Her New Owner by EssexEye

Her New Owner by EssexEye

Part I

John finds something unusual in the trash.

Was that a hand sticking out of that dumpster?

I was on my way back from work, driving through my suburban neighborhood, and wondering how to finish my costume for tomorrow’s convention—when I saw it in a parking lot on the other side of the street. A dumpster, full of trash all the way to the top, with with what looked like a hand, limply hanging over the edge.

It took a few moments for what I’d seen to register. Once it did, I slammed on the brakes, which was met by honking as the cars behind me were forced to switch to the other lane. As soon as it was safe, I made a u-turn, drove into the parking lot, and stopped my car.

My heart pounded, but as I got out of the car and stepped closer, I saw that it wasn’t a human hand. It was black and furry instead. So, whew, I hadn’t found a murder victim. I grabbed the edge of the dumpster and pulled myself up, and saw that the furred hand was sticking out of a black garbage bag through a rip in the plastic.

With my nose scrunched against the smell, I quickly untied the bag: then, by contrast, my eyes widened. What I’d found wasn’t as grotesque as a dead body, but it was far more confusing.

What spilled out of the bag, and what now lay in a heap atop the assorted refuse, was a full-body vixen fursuit. It looked to be in one piece, and heavily padded with feminine curves, and quite plush… and overall, seemed immensely expensive. Who in the hell would throw this away?

Clearly not someone in their right mind, that was who.

My arms were shaking from holding myself up, so I let myself fall back to the ground. Quickly, I repositioned my car so that the trunk was backed against the dumpster; then I opened the trunk and stood on my bumper. This gave me the height I needed to look, and reach, over the rim of the dumpster from a better vantage point.

Of course I was taking it. At the very least I’d be able to sell it, probably for over a grand. It was like finding a pile of free money in the trash, except without any chance that the mob might kill you over it.

As I leaned in closer toward my prize, with one hand squeezing my nose, I noticed that the suit was open: the zipper was on its front. I frowned—this would make it take longer to clean, but really I’d probably have needed to clean inside and out anyway.

Inside the empty costume lay a few articles: heels, a purse, and most of all a revealing magenta dress, large enough to fit the voluptuous fursuit’s proportions. It was low-cut with a deep v-neckline, and while the skirt was technically long enough to cover the legs, it had deep slits that would display the suit’s thick thighs with every swishing step. The dress was backless too; about the only thing it would consistently cover was the zipper on the abdomen.

Well, not just the abdomen. As I kept looking, I saw that the suit had nipples, just visible under the fur—and a slit between the legs. In fact, as I poked my hand around down there, I couldn’t help but blush, because this suit was anatomically correct, at least as much as any anthropomorphic vixen could be. Looking further into the suit’s inside, I saw a pair of black panties to cover up any indecency on the bottom, but no bra. If anyone wanted to wear the fursuit in public, they’d be relying solely on the dress.

Maybe it had been thrown away out of embarrassment. Whatever. I wasn’t gonna wear it, but that wouldn’t stop me from taking it. And the clothes, too, to sell as a matched set.

I reached down and lifted it up, or at least tried to, but I stopped as my back twinged. This empty thing was way heavier than it had any right to be. What the hell was it padded with, anyway?

With a grunt of annoyance, I bundled the thing back up into the ripped plastic bag and tied it up again. Now it was a bit easier to carry, and with both hands I managed to heft it over the rim of the dumpster—but then I lost my balance and dropped it onto the parking lot. I winced, but it was probably fine—at least, I hoped so—so I grabbed it again and heaved it into my trunk, before slamming the door shut.

Despite the ache in my muscles, I walked back to the driver’s side door with a spring in my step. A few hours washing the suit, and a few more finding someone to buy it, and I’d be up a couple thousand dollars. It was like winning a lottery I hadn’t even needed to sign up for!

This thing was heavy.

The dress and panties had gone into my apartment’s washer—on delicate, so as not to damage them—but the suit was too big for a machine wash, and I would have handwashed it even if it hadn’t been. But handwashing it meant lifting it, manipulating it, and just a lot of moving around. And this thing was heavy.

Not just heavy, but cumbersome too. The padding inside didn’t just add weight, it made the suit quite inflexible. I could bend it at its joints, and flex it a bit everywhere else, but it would be much easier if I could figure out how to take the stupid stuff out. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any such way short of damaging the suit, and I definitely wasn’t interested in doing that—I had no confidence in my ability to fix it. I just had to be careful, and not soak it through.

I heaved the thing into my bath, got a brush and some soap and water, and started on its legs first. The orange-brown fur didn’t look too dirty—which made sense if this thing had been in a trash bag—but who knew where the fursuit had been before that? And besides, the feet were covered in black fur, so I couldn’t really see whether they were messy. God forbid it had fleas or something, and there was still the smell to consider.

I scrubbed vigorously for minutes, and was rewarded as my brush came back with dirt on it, while the legs and feet glistened with moisture. But that was just the top: I lifted one leg and scrubbed along its underside, and then the other, for minutes more. I toweled both sides off with similar effort, and already my efforts were being rewarded. The fur had been kind of tangled and unkempt before, and now it seemed to shimmer under the light.

Then again, ‘already’ might have been the wrong word. Just the legs had taken over ten minutes, and already I was feeling the burn.

With a grunt, I turned her over—I almost didn’t notice that I was thinking of her as a her now—and went at the tail with similar vigor. This was fluffier and dirtier than the legs had been: in particular, it had a white tuft of hair at the end surrounded by a black ring, and this tuft really showed the grime. I had to clean my brush twice in the process, but eventually it was done, and looked good as new.

Next, came… well, there was no reason to be squeamish about it. It wasn’t as though it was a real vagina, or a real asshole. Nevertheless, after flipping her over yet again, I couldn’t help but hesitate before poking my brush inside her. Both of her holes were fairly tight, and I needed to switch to a smaller brush to really get inside.

For a moment, as I shoved the brush roughly in and out, I thought I felt the suit shiver, and I froze—but then realized the one shivering was me. Not just from exertion, but from the lewdness of what I was doing. Quickly, with burning cheeks, I finished with both of her holes and did a cursory sweep of her outer nether regions, perhaps cleaning them less thoroughly than the rest of her. Not that they looked any worse for it, once I’d dried them off.

This general theme continued as I continued up the body. Scrub vigorously, dry vigorously, clean my brush intermittently, and flip the body over at regular intervals. There were only a few variations on this theme. I zipped up the front zipper once I reached it, to avoid getting the inside wet, The breasts I hesitated on like I had the vagina, but they didn’t feel quite as taboo as before, so I went at them nevertheless.

The biggest change was in my energy. This had taken an hour and I wasn’t quite done with the outside. Maybe this was why someone had thrown it away: too much work for upkeep. Too heavy to wear without wearing yourself out, quite probably. But I’d started, and by God, I was going to finish.

Finally, I reached the head, and did extra careful work here, because the head and face were the most carefully constructed parts of the suit. The mouth, when closed, suggested a multi-purpose smirk, one which could probably be used to emote in a variety of ways by a skilled suiter. However, it could also be opened with a rig on the inside that went in the wearer’s mouth. A tongue was inside too, one which also seemed to connect to the human.

Meanwhile, the blue eyes had motorized eyelids over them, allowing them to wink and blink, but I couldn’t see what mechanism controlled them. Atop her head was a red-haired wig that didn’t seem to come off—nothing did with this stupid costume—so I sat the costume up, and washed and brushed her hair in place as if she were a real girl.

At last I finished, just as the washer dinged to signal it was done. With a groan I stood up, chucked the clothes in the dryer, and stretched a few times. Then I knelt back upon my bathroom mat, and I opened the suit up to start on the inside.

I predicted at the start that this would take longer than the outside, and I was right. The only upside was that I didn’t have to flip the suit over every so often—I couldn’t, in fact, considering how the only opening was on the front, so that had to stay face-up. However, I also couldn’t see what I was doing very well inside the costume, especially when cleaning the insides of the limbs and head, and my movements were tight and constricted by the suit.

Finally, a good twenty minutes after the dryer’s finishing bell, she was done.

“Agh,” I grunted, as I finally stood straight again. My back wasn’t happy with me, and was registering complaints in the form of shooting pains. My arms were cramping, and my knees hurt from the kneeling, even with the soft bathroom mat beneath them. “You’re lucky you’re worth all this trouble, Vicky.”

The name kinda came out of nowhere, but I guess if I was gonna spend my Friday night doing manual labor on a fursuit, she might as well have a name. An obvious name, sure, but I was dog tired. I had just enough energy to carry Vicky out of the bath, and I laid her out to dry in a corner of my bedroom. Then I washed my dirty hands, microwaved something quick to eat for dinner, brushed my teeth, and fell into bed. I didn’t even take her clothes from the dryer.

Vicky’s eyes seemed to watch me as I tucked myself under the covers, switched off the lamp, and shut my own eyes. It didn’t take long to fall asleep.

I wasn’t a heavy sleeper by nature. So, despite my exhaustion, I wasn’t that surprised to wake up in the middle of the night, even if I wasn’t sure why for a moment.

Then I turned on my bedside lamp, and I saw that Vicky was sitting up against the wall, staring at me.

I squinted, blinking several times. Hadn’t I laid her out on her back, on the floor? I searched my memory, but fatigue had blurred it, and I couldn’t be sure. In any case, I was pretty sure she’d dry more fully lying on her back: that way, her zipper could be fully open and expose her interior to airflow.

With an unhappy grunt, I got out of bed, trudged over to Vicky, and took her under her shoulders. Gently, as if tucking her into bed, I lowered her back onto the floor. Her red hair splayed out underneath her head, and her eyes looked up unblinkingly at me, as if staring through me.

“Probably couldn’t sell you,” I mumbled. “Who’s gonna buy a suit I got from the trash? And you’re really heavy, too… probably hard to wear.”

I glanced down at her open front, and for a moment I considered the fact that I hadn’t tested this theory. I hadn’t tried wearing her. And there was a con tomorrow, and my planned costume wasn’t really ready, whereas I’d spent a day getting this one into prime condition….

I chuckled at the thought. I wasn’t gonna crossdress in public, and if worst came to worst, I’d just go as myself. It wasn’t illegal to show up at a convention out of costume, was it?

Even so… maybe one day. Or maybe just for fun, just to try it, in the safety of my apartment…. “Maybe I’ll keep you,” I murmured, rubbing her face with my hand. “Yeah, I think I’ll keep you instead, Vicky.”

The window drapes blew at a sudden gust of wind—like Vicky’s sitting position, I wasn’t sure if I’d opened them before going to sleep. Somehow, the wind sounded like a whispered voice: “Thank you.”

I frowned: if I was hearing things, I definitely needed sleep. “G’night, Vicky,” I yawned, and fell back into bed and asleep. I didn’t even turn off the light.

The next time I woke up, Vicky was standing.

It took me a moment to process this, but when I did, I let out a yelp of “Christ!”, and sat up quickly in bed.

Vicky leaned forward over the foot of the bed, resting her hands on her knees. “Hi there, Owner,” she whispered, in a sensual sounding voice. “What’s your name?” It couldn’t help but sound that way, with the way her breasts were pressed together between her arms.

Her full breasts—for as I looked closer, it was clearer than before that the fursuit wasn’t floppy and empty like it had been before. Now the arms, legs, and torso had much more definition, much more thickness, like someone was in there.

She blinked coquettishly, and I realized she’d asked a question. “John,” I said, rubbing my eyes, hoping this apparation would disappear. The alternative was that an intruder had broken into my home and, rather than stealing anything, decided to play dress-up in my room. “Listen, who the hell are you?”

She laughed quietly. “I’m Vicky, remember? You named me.”

“No, I mean—fine, fine, how did you get in my apartment?”

“You brought me home with you.” Vicky—whoever was inside her—tilted her head to the side. “Poor John, you must be half asleep.”

“That’s not—you know what I—”

Her laugh was a little louder this time, cutting me short. “It’s okay, Owner,” she said, and she lifted her knee onto the bed. “If you want, you can just treat this as a really good dream.”

I couldn’t do anything but sit still and watch as she crawled onto the bed and toward me. Her legs rested on either side of mine, pinning them under the covers. Her light-silver zipper glinted in the lamplight. “I’m really grateful you went to all the trouble to clean me up,” she said, and put her finger on my cheek, letting it slide up to my temple as her palm touched my skin. “I thought I was going to be mad at you for dropping me from that dumpster, and then you did something so nice….”

The suit had definitely been empty at the dumpster: whoever was inside now wouldn’t know about that mistake. Was she saying… was she pretending to be what I thought she was pretending to be? “What were you doing in the dumpster?” I stammered, humoring her for whatever reason.

“Oh, it was awful—” Vicky’s breath caught, and she looked down at my chest as she sniffed. “My last owner, she didn’t have time to care for me anymore… she didn’t even bother to find me a good home. Just dumped me in the trash, like some cheap, lifeless costume.” She let out a few sobs, her eyes closed, and wiped away imaginary tears.

“But then you rescued me,” she continued, a new eagerness in her voice. “You saved me, and you pampered me, and you said you wanted to keep me….” She breathed in again, almost sobbing with joy. “Oh, I think I’d do anything for you now, John.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” I said, and then she leaned in and kissed me, passionately. Her fake tongue grabbed my real one and forced it to play, and her breasts pressed against my bare chest under the sheets. One of her hands slipped beneath my neck, holding me in, and I couldn’t help but close my eyes and wrap my arms around her before I knew what I was doing. She was plush and soft, and warm.

She pulled away, her hand still under my neck. “Please,” she whispered. “Let me belong to you. I think you’d love being inside me.”

I squinted. “I don’t know who you are. Look, this is kind of fast—”

“But don’t most owners want to put their costumes on first thing? Especially one as gorgeous as me,” she said, unsubtly lifting and groping at one breast with her free hand.

“You’re not a costume. You’re a person wearing a costume, who for some reason is trying to convince me you’re a costume.”

She gasped, and pulled her hand away from my neck to place it over her mouth. “The idea! You’re my owner, I would never let anyone else—”

After a few seconds, her shoulders relaxed. “It’s okay,” she said, “you don’t understand yet. But if you think there’s someone else inside me, then open me up and find out.”

Her hand went down and poked at her zipper, as if I needed another visual cue. With a sharp motion I reached out, grabbed the tab, and pulled down.

Vicky winked, and then immediately deflated and slouched onto me, covering my face.

“What?” I mumbled into the fur. I shoved her off of my torso, back onto the bed—she was now bent backward unnaturally at the waist—and felt around inside her body cavity. But there was no one. There was clearly no one. “Vicky?” I called out, to no reply.

I needed a reality check. With terse motions I jumped out of bed, marched to my bathroom, and splashed cold water on my face, gasping at the feeling. But it left me more awake, and more ready to deal with… whatever the hell this was. I walked back into my room and saw Vicky again.

She was lying in the corner, zipper open. Right where she’d been when I fell asleep, like she’d never moved.

Maybe she hadn’t moved. In fact, as I tried to calm my pounding heartbeat, that was the only explanation that made any kind of sense. She couldn’t have ever moved of her own volition, because she was a costume, and costumes didn’t do that outside of the kind of trashy fetish stories I stopped reading when I reached college.

No, the better explanation was that I was dog-tired, and went to sleep thinking of her after a disruption to my schedule, and was having weird nightmares and/or wet dreams. So I told myself.

It helped, after I manually slowed my breathing, and I climbed back into bed. But Vicky was still bothering me, so—after a minute or so of enduring her lifeless eyes—I took a spare pillow and rested it over her face. This helped much more.

With the light off, and my head facing firmly away from the fursuit, I managed to get to sleep.

The third time was the charm.

I woke up, and Vicky was exactly where I’d left her, pillow and all. There was light coming in through the curtains, and when I checked my phone, I saw that the time was eight in the morning. A halfway reasonable time to wake up.

Of course it had been just a bunch of dreams. It couldn’t be otherwise, I told myself. In a week, I’d either be laughing at this memory, or I’d have forgotten it entirely. I forced a laugh now, just for practice, as I got out of bed and did my morning routine.

After a shower and a quick breakfast, it was eight thirty. The convention started at ten o’clock. It would take some time to drive there and find parking—call it half an hour to be safe. That meant an hour to finish my cosplay hanging in the closet—the one I’d been hoping to finish last night, before being interrupted.

Or, there was another costume I could try.

I shook myself, my dreams coming back to me. That was what Vicky wanted—what I’d dreamed her to want. Was it what I wanted, though? To wear some strange costume I’d found while dumpster diving; to crossdress in public, feeling the secret thrill of no one recognizing me?

“Stop that,” I said, looking down as my penis perked up. Okay, so part of me was on board with the idea, clearly—but it was a terrible idea nonetheless, full of risks and unknowns and way outside my comfort zone. Which was why I absolutely wouldn’t be taking Vicky to the convention.

Of course, there wasn’t any harm in trying her on in here. It would take five minutes, tops. And, well… I didn’t think I could really restrain myself.

With a little giggle of nervousness, I pulled Vicky out from the corner, and lifted her onto the bed. I’d gotten better at handling her limp weight, so this wasn’t as hard as last night, even with muscles that still felt the previous day’s strain.

I thought of taking a moment to get dressed first, at least in boxers, but quickly shook my head—that would take longer, and I was short on time. So instead, I rolled over onto Vicky’s front, letting myself sink into her thick padding, and stuck my legs through the zipper hole, and into the costume’s legs.

“I knew it!”

Before I could react to the voice, Vicky’s arms squeezed around me in a tight hug—one which bound my arms and left no opportunity to move. “Oh, thank you thank you thank you!” said the voice that I recognized from my dreams of the previous night. “I promise you, Owner, you won’t regret this at all!”

I regretted all of this. Because as I fruitlessly kicked my legs, unable to get them free, I couldn’t help but feel like an idiot, to have so quickly discounted last night’s events. To pretend, against all evidence, that they were a dream.

This was real.

Part II

John gets used to his new costume.

“Relax, Owner,” Vicky cooed, as I struggled against her tight hold, “I’m trying to help you! It’ll be easier if we’re not working against each other."

“What do you mean, help!?” I yelped.

“You want to put me on, don’t you?”

I froze, and she took that moment to grab my shoulders and force me to bend forward at the waist. Before I could stop her, she took her upper stomach just above the zipper, and pulled it over my head. My clear view of my bedroom was replaced by a struggling mess of dark browns, the scant light that could make it through the fur.

I tried to thrash my arms, to fight back, but somehow all I managed to do was push them into the suit’s armholes. Within seconds, my fingers were matched with Vicky’s. She giggled and pulled her front down, and then I could see through Vicky’s eyes—just in time to see her hands, with my hands inside, grab the suit’s mouth and push in.

I gagged as the mouth rig invaded between my lips, followed by the tongue coming in to surround my own tongue.

Vicky giggled again with innocent happiness, and said, “Now for the final touch!” She reached down, grabbed the zipper near my crotch, and pulled up.

I’d been right about one thing: it had been quick. In less than a minute, Vicky had trapped me inside her. With this, the force that had been moving my arms went away, and I sensed I had control of them again. I did the natural thing first and grabbed at the zipper, but—

Was it my panic? Maybe my larger, clumsier paws, or some device of Vicky’s? Whatever the reason, every time I tried to grab the zipper’s tab, I couldn’t get ahold of it.

“No, no, let me out,” I said—and then stopped. My voice didn’t sound like my voice at all. It sounded like… Vicky’s. Higher-pitched, girlish and excited, but with an undeniably sensual undertone. “What?” I stammered. “How do I sound like—”

There was that girlish laugh again. It was right in my ear… or, for all I knew, right in my brain. “Of course you sound like me, Owner! You’re wearing me right now! Aren’t you excited?”

I sat up cautiously. “Oh,” she said, whispering now, letting the seductive undertone come through. “I can definitely feel your excitement down there.”

She was right: I was rock hard, and if not for the padding it would have shown through the suit and ruined Vicky’s feminine front. That didn’t mean I was agreeing to this. “How did you do that?” I asked cautiously. “Who are you?”

“Well, that’s kind of a good question!” she replied, in the same voice I now had: it was like I was talking to myself. “I’d say I’m Vicky, but you’re Vicky now, and we can’t both be Vicky, right? So how about you think of me as… the voice in your head. Vee, for short! I’m here to help you make the most of this experience! Why don’t you start by getting a look at yourself?”

My legs twitched. Numbly, I walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror at what… or, perhaps, who I’d become.

Vicky was just as thick and curvaceous as she’d been last night, in what I’d thought was a dream. But with a first person perspective, and not third person, everything was different. I placed my hand on the mirror, and watched as Vicky did the same. When I laid my other hand on my hip, she mimicked me. When I opened my mouth in astonishment, so did she.

That was me. I was Vicky.

“Do you like what you see?” said Vicky—er, said Vee, into my ear. Or my head. I didn’t want to think about it. For what it was worth, the suit’s mouth didn’t move when she was speaking this time; it only moved with my words.

“I guess so,” I said, and turned myself around to see my new back, and shake my tail. I really had done a good job with the costume last night: Vicky’s fur was sheek and shiny.

“I’m glad! But I know how you can like it even more.” Her voice dropped to a purr that made me tremble. “Want me to show you a couple of poses?”

I nodded, and then my head stopped moving as Vee took over. She leaned me forward, hands clasped down by my waist as my upper arms pressed my breasts together, in the same poise Vicky had greeted me with the previous night. “Whoa,” I said—I still had control over the fursuit’s mouth, and I was grateful as Vee changed poses a couple times. Each new stance was clearly designed to display my new assets to their best advantage. Maybe I was okay with this now.

“How are you doing this?” I asked, as she left me in a T&A pose that could be on a movie poster, with me looking over my shoulder into the mirror. I tried to shake my head, to move my arms and legs, and they didn’t even budge. It wasn’t so frightening anymore, even if it was incredibly bizarre.

“Why don’t you try it, Owner?” she said.

Her control eased off, and I stood up straight again. Then I tried leaning forward in that pose from before, the one that pressed Vicky’s boobs together. As I did so, I felt my movements being surreptitiously adjusted: I leaned forward a bit further than I would have on my own, and squeezed my arms closer to each other. “What are you doing?”

“Just helping you use me like we both deserve.” Vee giggled. “Keep going!”

I mimicked each one of the poses she had done, getting better with each one, and when I was finished I didn’t notice her adjustments. “Well done, Owner!” she said, and took over my arms to hug myself in a fit of enthusiasm.

Something else I didn’t notice at first, and almost didn’t notice I didn’t notice, was that the fursuit’s weight didn’t seem to exist now. I’d thought that anyone trying to wear this would get worn out in ten minutes, tops, but as I moved Vicky’s arms—as I moved my arms—I felt no more resistance than if I were naked.

“Thanks for the praise,” I said, “but… how do you work?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… are you a robot, or magic, or what?” Vicky’s face reflected some of my own confusion in its upturned look.

“I….” Vee hesitated. “I don’t know how to answer that. I was just… made one day, and I knew what I was supposed to do. Sorry I can’t help more, Owner.”

“That’s not enough of an answer!” I scratched my head. “Then why aren’t you like other costumes?”

“Hm. Maybe I am!” She laughed. “Maybe all costumes are like me, and no one ever admits it because people would think they’re crazy.”

Crazy. Once again, the craziness of what was happening hit me like a baseball bat to the face. I was talking to a fursuit, and the fursuit was talking back, like some sort of badly written fetish story.

It was too much. “Thanks again,” I said, easing my hands down, trying once again to grab my zipper. “Vee, uh… not to be rude, but can I get out now? I’ve got this convention in, like, an hour, and my costume’s not ready, and—”

“Oh, I think your costume’s quite ready,” Vee whispered. “You spent so much time on me yesterday, after all.”

“No, I don’t mean—”

My mouth froze up, then closed without my input. “And now,” Vee continued, “I just need to spend a little time on you, to help get you ready.”

She released my mouth again, and I burst out, “I’m not crossdressing to the con!”

Vee was quiet for a few seconds after that. I sighed, and sat down on the toilet seat. “Why not?” she finally asked, in a meeker voice than before: she sounded hurt. “Don’t you want to wear me?”

“Maybe, a little? But that’s not the problem.” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees and head in my hands. “I…. This is a lot to take in, okay? I don’t feel comfortable trying this in public. Where someone might see.”

And now I was arguing with a costume.

“Who would see?” she said.

“Well, you know….”

“I’m just a costume—I don’t know at all! Who would see?”

I blinked, and heard the slight sound of shutters: the costume had to be blinking along with me. It was a good question.

“John,” she said, “no one would see you. How could they, when you’re inside me? All they’d see is Vicky. You don’t need to be embarrassed about it.”

I sat still, pondering this.

“I… I understand if you still don’t want to go through with this.” My arms crossed in front of my body, hugging myself for a moment. “I’ll let you take me off,” she said, finally placing my hand on the zipper tab. “If that’s what you really want, it’s okay, but please, just think about it.”

I pulled down on the tab, just an inch, and heard her sigh. I looked down at my bare skin on the inside, then glanced at my closet. Where my cosplay was waiting.

My cheap cosplay where everyone would recognize me.

Oh, what the hell. Things couldn’t get crazier.

“No.”

I stood up and looked myself in the eye, in the mirror. “I’ll do it.” With a feeling of finality, I pulled the zipper tab back up.

Vee didn’t speak after that for a few seconds, but I felt my body trembling, and the tremors weren’t from me. “Vee?” I asked.

Abruptly, I jumped for joy—which was to say, Vee did using my body. “Yes! Thank you, thank you so much, you’re gonna have so much fun! Oh, we have so much work to do!”

“What work?”

“Getting you ready! Like the posing practice!” She laughed. “You didn’t think you were gonna walk out of here and just be John, did you, Owner?”

It was forty minutes later, and I was panting. Vee had put me through the wringer.

First had been heel training. The heels I’d salvaged along with the fursuit weren’t very high, but when I put them on I nearly tumbled within seconds, and I would have if Vee hadn’t taken control and stopped me. She’d walked confidently around my apartment, her hips swaying with each step, and then directed me to do the same. Bit by bit she’d ceded control to me, taking it back to stop me from falling if necessary, and within ten minutes I could stand, and walk, and even run and jump in these heels.

With that foundation, Vee had taught me more. How to move like Vicky, how to talk like Vicky, how to emote with Vicky’s limited range of expression, and do it more expressively than most human faces. How to flirt like Vicky, too. She was a lot more outgoing than I was, so this might have been the hardest part, but I eventually got it.

And now I stood at one end of my apartment, wearing the full outfit. A dress above, with a hole for my tail, and panties underneath, which might just be scandalously revealed with a mistaken swish of my skirt. Not that I’d be making any such mistakes… not unless they were on purpose. Of course, my zipper would stay hidden the whole time, no matter what happened.

I had my handbag slung fashionably over my shoulder, where it could hold my phone and wallet, and I stood confidently on heels. One hand rested sassily on my hip, a pose which had become my default. “Go forward,” Vee whispered, and I sashayed to the other end of the room. “Stop.” I did. “Introduce yourself. Flirt.”

I leaned forward, reaching out to cup an imaginary chin. “Hey there, beautiful,” I said in Vicky’s most sensual tones, “I’m Vicky. Pleasure to meet you.” I winked.

“And cut! Congratulations, Owner—John has left the building. It’s just Vicky here now!”

I felt the suit wriggle against me, and I wriggled back in acknowledgment. Vee was right: if I took video of myself now, traveled back in time, and showed it to myself twenty-four hours ago, the past me would never believe he was the one in that suit. And if I didn’t believe it, neither would anyone else. The prospect of going out in this wasn’t frightening anymore, for who could possibly recognize me now?

“Talk privately. When do you have to leave?” Vee asked.

“In ten minutes,” I whispered back, barely moving the costume’s lips: she’d also had me practice talking like this, so we could converse in public with no one noticing.

“Awesome, then that means….”

Her tone of voice was changing, and I knew what that meant. “You have time for some fun,” she whispered.

For the first time in several minutes, Vee took over again. I’d been well-trained, and so I didn’t resist as my body walked into my bedroom, then threw myself onto my bed. “I’m not going to take control during the convention,” she murmured, “not unless you really need it—but I want to give you an idea, Owner, of just what you can do now.”

“Okay,” I said uncertainly, as she kicked off my heels and slipped off my panties. My skirt was lifted and my neckline pulled down, exposing my breasts and vagina.

I caught myself—was I really thinking of them as my breasts and my vagina? But I was Vicky now, after all. John was taking a break.

With my left arm Vee grabbed both my breasts, and she placed my right hand by my vagina. Then I felt her strength slacken, and she said, “Just do what comes naturally, Owner.”

There was that word again. Somehow the relationship between us didn’t feel as simple as me owning her: at best, we owned each other, and more likely she owned me. Hadn’t she turned me into Vicky, in under an hour? So I hesitated, and asked, “Do you really want me to do this?”

“I want you to do whatever you want to do, Owner! I belong to you. I love you,” she purred. “If you want to get dressed again and leave early, or if you want to spend all day loving yourself in here, I’ll be fine with either one. This is just a suggestion.”

I waited a few seconds more, and then I slowly inserted a finger inside myself. I gasped: somehow I was feeling the finger as if I were stroking myself directly. “How does this work—” I started to say, but didn’t bother finishing. Vee probably didn’t know, and it didn’t matter.

I went slowly at first, rubbing my breasts with one hand and penetrating myself with the other, going a little deeper each time. Before too long, I had two fingers in there, then three, and then four, and I felt as if I was penetrating the human flesh inside, as well. Or, more accurately, I felt like there was no distinction, and this was my body.

“Want me to speed things up?” Vee whispered. “Because I’ve got a special feature you’ll really like.”

“Yeah,” I grunted.

“All right, Brace yourself.”

I let out a yelp of surprise, as my fingers on both hands began glowing, and then vibrating. The spike of pleasure was immediate and almost too much to handle.

“Feels… good, doesn’t it… Vicky?” Vee said between shaky breaths.

I didn’t even try to say anything back, nor did I bother to keep moving: I just grabbed my breasts, stuck my other hand in my vagina, and held on for dear life. Vee and I were both squirming, twitching so much it was as if my whole body had become a vibrator.

“I could keep you here, Vicky,” she panted, as I thrashed around on my bed, unable to move either of my hands. Not sure if that was her fault, or mine. “I could keep you stuck like this all day, until you passed out from bliss. Is that what you want, Vicky?”

“I, I, I…. I….” I couldn’t get a sentence out. I wanted to tell her that yes, that sounded amazing—but all I could do was ride it out.

My hips bucked, over and over, as I finally reached release. Vee let out a high-pitched moan into my ears at the same time. We lay together, limp, as my fingers finally turned off, and my hand slid out of myself.

“That was amazing,” I finally said. I took long, deep breaths, not moving for about half a minute.

“I love it when you say things like that, Owner,” Vee said into my ear. She sounded a lot more composed than I did.

“I love it when you do things like that, Vee.” I stood up, finally getting a hold of myself. I briefly felt around inside myself, to confirm that no wetness had come out—but I didn’t check for too long, or I’d never get going. “Is there anything else you can do?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Vee hummed into my head. “I can make you stronger and faster than you usually would be. I can take over walking and talking for you, if you get tired. If you’re into that sort of thing, I can hold you in bondage without rope or handcuffs, and stop you from talking without a gag. I can make your body completely rigid, or completely limp like a ragdoll.I can even sing for you! The better question, Owner, is what can’t I do?”

“That all sounds… incredible, but I meant more like….” I lifted my middle and index finger. On cue, they glowed and vibrated again. “Is there anywhere else on this body that does that?”

“Oh, I see! Hm… there are a couple places… just where you’d expect….”

My finger stopped glowing, but my crotch and breasts lit up—just as I was getting dressed, too. I squirmed, but kept dressing myself: this wasn’t nearly as intense as the fingers had been, and made things pleasurable without being unbearable. With my dress and panties on, the glow wasn’t visible from the outside, and the low hum wasn’t audible. “How long can you keep that up?” I said, rubbing my thighs discreetly together.

“How long can you take it?” There was a note of challenge in Vee’s voice, and I imagined a smirk. It was a challenge I was eager to meet.

“No more time to waste,” I said. I grabbed my things, threw them in the handbag, and put on my heels. I marched out of my apartment, only stopping to lock my door, and walked downstairs with a confident, sexy step. A step that didn’t betray what I was feeling in my most sensitive areas.

After all, I’d been trained well.

“Vee,” I asked, as I stepped into my car. “Can you sing something for me?”

“I can sing any song I know! What song would you like?”

“Choose something that feels right.”

Sitting down, and wearing a seatbelt, made the sensations in my skin more intense as both my breasts and rear were compressed. I squirmed in my seat, letting out a moan of pleasure, as I pulled out of my spot and onto the road.

“I,” Vee sang, like a tune inside my head, “I love the colorful clothes she wears / and the way the sunlight plays across her hair….”

Her voice was beautiful.

Part III

John explores the convention with his new costume, but everything changes when Vicky meets a familiar face.

So the bad news was that one person couldn’t sing Good Vibrations all on her own. I tried joining in when the multi-part harmonies started up, but honestly I wasn’t any good as a singer even with my voice being changed by a possibly-magical fursuit. Vee and I laughed it off, and we completed the rest of the drive in comfortable silence, only broken by a barely-audible buzzing.

And that was the good news: just how comfortable it was to be Vicky, in oh so many ways. It wasn’t just the vibrators, though those did scratch a deeply-felt itch. It wasn’t just the fact that Vicky’s body itself—myself—was so physically comfortable, so soft and well padded that I felt like I could go to sleep this way.

What it came down to, in a word, was being self-conscious. Vicky wasn’t. Vicky didn’t know anyone here, didn’t have any prior history (that I knew of: apparently someone had thrown the suit in a dumpster but that wasn’t my problem), didn’t have any of those silly human hangups that John had. She could, which meant I could, just walk out into the con and enjoy myself.

And that was what I did: after dealing with parking the car in the garage beneath the convention, I walked up the stairs and into the main hall like I owned the place.

“Where to first, Vicky?” said the little voice in my head.

I spoke back, also in my head, and glad Vee had taught me to speak without letting the fursuit lips move. “Let’s just tour the whole place and see what happens. Sound good?”

“No need to ask me whether it sounds good or not, Owner. I’m just a costume! I’ll go along with anything you want.”

It still rang a little hollow to hear her say that, considering everything, but I didn’t really mind. Whether or not I really believed Vee when she talked about herself, I didn’t feel any need to pry further. It clearly didn’t matter, and wouldn’t affect my enjoyment of today.

So I set off, heels clicking along the floor as I started taking a look at the environment—and as the environment started taking a look at me.

It took about five minutes for someone to ask me to pose for a picture, and of course I happily obliged, especially since she gave me such nice compliments about my figure and my costume. “The craftsmanship is amazing!” she said, whoever she was. “The way its mouth moves when you talk looks so natural! Who’d you get it from?”

I laughed, and said, “Oh, a lady never tells.”

It was a pretty meaningless thing to say, but it was enough to deflect the question. “All right,” she said. “Then can you at least tell me your Twitter or something, so I can tag you when I post this?”

“Tell you what,” I said, leaning down to her height. “How about you post it, and I’ll find you with my account—” I poked a finger at her for emphasis “—and then you can tag me.”

“Sure, whatever works for you. Thanks again!”

I walked away, then frowned when I heard a little grumble from inside my head. “Something wrong?” I said to myself.

“What? No, nothing!” Vee sounded surprised. “Just keep enjoying yourself, Owner!”

I definitely did that. I got to attend some cool panels, spent some time at a room filled with tabletop games, another solid half hour playing fighting games, and had a great time flirting it up wherever I went.

There were plenty of opportunities to flirt, since people kept asking me for pictures every few minutes. It made sense—obviously a fursuit at a convention was in no way a novelty, but with one as sleek and well made as me, people were bound to be interested. And for my part, I made sure to be just as interested in them, acting charming and feisty and not quite suggestive enough to make anyone uncomfortable.

I would have expected it to get old after a while, but it didn’t! I got to pose with so many other interesting suits, and so many fascinating people, and even one buff man who tried to lift me for a photo—he did not quite manage it. I asked, quite shocked, if he was implying something about my weight, and we all laughed.

The longer it went on, though, the more I got the sense that the only one who wasn’t having fun was Vee. She kept making little noises of discontent from time to time, and after a while I was getting tired of it. I leaned against a wall, taking a break from activities for a few minutes, and asked inside my head: “Vee, what’s wrong?”

“Didn’t I tell you already, Owner? Nothing’s wrong!” She laughed an unconvincing laugh.

“I am your owner. So you have to tell me.”

“Well, um….”

Vee didn’t talk for a while, but I got the sense that she was composing her thoughts, rather than avoiding the question. I took the time to people-watch.

“It’s stupid,” she finally said.

“Tell me anyway.”

“I just….” She sighed. “I get uncomfortable. All the people who keep asking for pictures, they keep talking about how well I was made, and asking who made me, and….”

“Well, someone did make you, right? You said you were made.”

“It’s… not something I want to get into.”

“Why is that?” A possibility occurred to me. “Was the person who made you the same person who threw you out?”

Vee didn’t answer. This silence definitely sounded like she was avoiding the question.

“Hey, look,” I said, raising my hands in a sort of surrender. “If you don’t want to talk about it, if you wanna just pretend you came from nowhere and magically appeared in a dumpster, I’m fine with that. I mean, I’m playing pretend right now, aren’t I?” Still no response, so I continued. “I’m just saying, sooner or later we all have to stop pretending—”

My body moved on its own, walking swiftly along the corridor and into a nearby single-person bathroom, then locking the door behind me. It had been hours since Vee had taken over, and I was so startled I didn’t struggle or even speak for a few seconds. Eventually, once I found my voice, I said, “The hell was that?”

“Oh, uh, just….” Vee laughed nervously. “I just realized you haven’t taken care of yourself for a while, Owner! And after you’re done in here, you should probably get something to eat. You won’t even need to take me off to chew!”

That was definitely not why she forced me in here—but at the same time, she had a point. Once again, I decided not to pry.

“All right,” I said, and walked over to the toilet. “Let me just….”

I pushed my dress aside, revealing the zipper that had been hidden all day. Unlike this morning, when Vee had been so reluctant to let me even touch the tab, she offered no resistance now. I didn’t abuse the privilege either, only opening up enough to reach inside and pull my naked member out.

It didn’t take long to do my business, and then it was time to put my dick back. That was the intention when I grabbed it, but then I took a look in the room’s mirror.

Vicky stared back at me, the picture of feminine elegance in a foxy coating—except for the penis, and also the weird gap in her front, showing the human male body inside. I frowned, and zipped the zipper down to the edge so that no gap was visible around my dick. It looked so out of place, like an uncannily realistic strap-on, and it was hard to believe it was mine.

In a way, it wasn’t. If I was Vicky, then this belonged to… someone else.

Why not have a little fun with him?

I took hold and started stroking.

Vee, as if sensing my thoughts, turned on a mild vibration in the grabbing hand at the same moment. “Oh, yes,” I murmured, stroking up and down the shaft. It hardened and lengthened immediately. “Oh, this is good—”

“Let me do it, Owner,” said the voice in my head. “I mean, it’s never as much fun on your own, right?”

Vee started guiding my hand, and before long I was just letting her do all the work, and she was right—this was better. Doing it to yourself lacked any sense of unpredictability or surprise, but this felt like something that I wasn’t doing to myself—I was giving a handjob to someone else, and yet at the same time it also felt like my girlfriend was giving a handjob to me.

Except in this case my girlfriend was a costume with velvet-soft vibrating hands, and it felt so good. “Vee,” I gasped, “keep going just like that—I’m about to—”

Which was exactly when my hand let go. The voice inside my head gasped, suddenly sounding genuinely scandalized. “Vicky, you naughty girl! What are you doing, toying with that poor man?”

I probably would have been shocked into stillness even if Vee wasn’t holding me. My hand hovered inches away from its target, still buzzing to taunt me. I couldn’t reach it even if I pushed my hips forward.

“And in a public place, no less? You should really put him back right now!”

At this point it wasn’t even clear whether I was moving on my own or not. As the buzzing in my hand stopped, I gently took my dick—which was, if anything, harder and more sensitive than it had been before—and returned it inside the suit. Then I sealed it behind the zipper, and the dress covered that.

The Vicky in the mirror was panting. Distantly I wondered why: it wasn’t like anyone had been pleasuring her. “Why did you do that,” I groaned.

“Do what?” Her voice was sweeter now. “I’m the voice in your head. You’re the one who did it, Vicky.”

I could still feel my staff at full mast, pressed against my belly by the suit’s padding, but it didn’t show outwardly at all. Vicky in the mirror took a deep breath, then was herself again, washing and drying her hands. It took a bit more time than a human would need because of the fur.

This woman—if she was a woman—was driving me crazy. The worst part was, I think I was liking it.

Once I’d washed my hands, I left and made my way downstairs, and enjoyed an overpriced hamburger meal from a stall that had set up in the main hall. Vee was right—I could eat it through the mask, and to my surprise I was dextrous enough with my fursuited face that I didn’t even make a mess. It was surprisingly easy to toy with the idea of living in the fursuit full-time.

Obviously, that wasn’t a real option. But it was so nice to imagine, and the daydream could continue until the end of the convention, at least. And I had more of the convention to explore.

“Where are you headed now, Owner?” Vee asked, as I threw away my trash and got walking again.

“The vendor hall,” I said to myself.

“Oh.” There was that note of discomfort again. “Really?”

“Is there a problem, Vee?”

“I mean, you know how vendor halls are! You just walk around and it’s a bunch of body pillows and overpriced bookmarks, and you don’t end up buying anything.” She laughed.

“Well, I like looking around,” I said, a little more cross now, “and if I’m the owner then what I say goes, right?”

She took a few seconds to respond. “Yes, Owner,” she finally said.

“Good. I mean, you’re supposed to just be the voice in my head, aren’t you?”

No answer this time. I smirked and set off.

I—that was to say, John—always had enjoyed the vendor hall, as a matter of fact. And despite what Vee said, I usually did end up buying a few small things, even if it was just what I could carry: it was nice to support small, independent creators. This time, though, I had a purse, and it would be nice to be able to carry more than usual.

I got to buying. A print here, a keychain there, and yes, a few bookmarks, even if they were a little overpriced. I didn’t buy any body pillows, though I did see many, from cartoon demons to cartoon ponies. In any case, I had a pretty respectable haul before long, all tucked away in my purse.

And of course, it was more of the same as I walked around: people kept stopping me for pictures, and the posing still didn’t get old! Better yet, the voice in my head had managed to stop expressing her discomfort every time.

However, Vee was still leading me around a bit. It was hard to notice at first—just little suggestions of stalls to visit, or art to look at, or oh my god do you see that crotch shot on the body pillow, don’t children come to these conventions? But after a while I noticed that all the nudges were happening around a certain part of the vendor hall. Every time I got close, I was getting subtly rebuffed.

“Vee,” I said eventually, in the middle of posing for a picture, “I feel like you’re not being honest with me again.” I felt a little surge of pride about how the suit’s lips didn’t move.

“What do you mean, Owner?”

It was kind of funny, how much control a person—or entity, or whatever—could exert over you while still calling you ‘Owner’ half the time. “If I walk straight ahead,” I said, “will you stop me?”

“Owner, I would never stop you from doing something you truly wanted to do—”

“That is a straight up lie and we both know it.”

The photo op finished. I spoke up, graciously accepting thanks for having posed so nicely.

“Look,” I continued. “This game you’ve been playing with me, it’s been fun. Very fun. When you wouldn’t let me….” I trailed off, feeling a sort of haze of arousal in my chest that made it hard to talk. The orgasm denial had been very appealing, and frankly seemed like a fun thing to do once I got back home… I shook myself before I could fantasize too hard. “But this is different. This is less, like, sexy controlling, or pushing me out of my comfort zone controlling like this morning… and more just, like, weird messed up controlling.”

The reply was surprisingly heated. “What if I’m controlling you for your own good, Vicky?”

I grimaced. “Okay. I don’t know who taught you that was a reasonable excuse for controlling another human person, but that is not okay.”

A pause. Then, as if she was actually considering it: “Really?”

“Of course really! How could it not—”

My legs moved on their own again, turning tail and striding away from the vendors, away from the crowds. “Vee,” I hissed, “this is exactly what I’m talking about. Stop it right now.”

“I’m sorry, Owner.”

“I mean it!”

“I’m really sorry, Owner.” My body broke into a run. “I—we—you need to get away right now. Right now, okay? There isn’t any time to explain.”

I didn’t retort right away, because Vee’s mercurial mood had shifted again, and this time to panic. Whatever we were running from, it clearly terrified her.

Vee had already said she could make me fast, and it showed. It didn’t take long before we were out of the crowds, entirely out of the space designated as the vendor hall. Right now we were still on the same floor, but in an unused corner and behind a structural pillar.

“All right,” I said, panting even though I had barely exerted myself. “We’re alone. There is definitely, absolutely time to explain, so I would really like it if you would do that?”

But Vee just kept repeating herself. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, this was stupid, I was stupid, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Vee, calm down. Calm down.” Unsure what to do, I reached back and stroked my own head. “What’s going on?”

“Now why did you run off for?”

The voice wasn’t mine or Vee’s. It was female, scolding, and came from behind me. “Oh no,” Vee whispered.

“What is it?” I asked, turning around.

“Janine.”

Honestly, at first glance I wasn’t sure what she was so worried about. The person in front of me, Janine, was a woman just a bit shorter than average, stockily built and with many tattoos, and her hair in a bun far more functional than fashionable. Her clothes were more of the same: a loose-fitting tanktop that contrasted hard with my own revealing dress, and jeans whose pockets were all being used to hold fabric-related tools.

She had a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, and behind her she was pulling a handcart, but I couldn’t really see what was on it because she was in the way.

All in all, nothing too scary. She was pretty muscular, so maybe if she wanted to start a fistfight it could be a problem, but she didn’t look belligerent to me: if anything she looked tired and relieved.

Also, it had been quite a few seconds since she last spoke, and she had a follow-up: “Come on! I’ve been running around all day, trying to figure out if I was actually seeing you around the con! You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I, uh….” I grinned. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

Janine snorted. “Very funny, Marian. Like I don’t know what my own creations look like.”

Vee had trained me well: when I blurted out, “She created you?”, it was only in my own head.

“This was a mistake,” Vee said. “I shouldn’t have tied you up in this.”

To my surprise, the woman went in for a hug. My arms stayed limp at my sides. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she said. “I went to pick you up this morning and you weren’t where I’d dropped you off, and I was so worried, someone could have taken you or anything! And I barely had any time to look for you before I had to set up the stall, you’ll have to tell me what happened later—”

I pulled away from the hug. “Dropped me off? Lady, you threw—” I caught myself just in time. “Threw me away!”

“Oh, come on, you know it’s all part of the game! You do something naughty, and you get a nice naughty punishment, just for you. Don’t pretend you don’t love it!” The woman tapped her fingers against her palm, like a judge bringing a room to order. “Luckily, you’re here in enough time that I should be able to exhibit you for a good while before closing. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

What the hell was she talking about with exhibiting me? And what was this Marian business?

“Well, I hope there’s time, anyway. You’re not dressed right, and you probably stink from the dumpster, ick.” Without warning, she grabbed my hand, lifted it to her nose, and took a deep sniff. “Oh, huh, apparently not. And you look cleaner than I expected, too. Well, small mercies.”

I yanked my hand away and started backing up. “All right, lady, that’s enough. You need to back off—”

“You’re right, it is enough. We don’t have time for this.” Janine cleared her throat. “Marian, rigid.”

I froze, mid step.

I tried to retort. I tried to keep backing away. In fact, I tried to keep my balance, because freezing mid-step meant I was on one foot, with my momentum headed behind myself—but I couldn’t move a muscle.

Janine reached out and grabbed my still-outstretched hand before I could fall. “That’s better,” she said matter-of-factly. “See how easy things can be when we stay where we’re supposed to?”

Still maintaining a grip on my hand, she reached down and took hold of the leg that wasn’t touching the ground. To my surprise, she pulled the lower leg forward, straightening my knee until both feet were on the floor and I was stable. Apparently, she could move my muscles from the outside even if I couldn’t from the inside.

“All right, how to do this,” Janine said, tapping her chin for a few seconds. “Okay, that’ll work.” She walked around behind me, and I tried to turn my head to follow her without thinking about my immobility. A moment later, she grabbed my hips and leaned me back, guiding me down to a sitting position. It was gentle, but not the way you’d be gentle with a person—more the way you’d be gentle with expensive and fragile furniture. Careful but not caring.

Now she was standing above me, and she used the height difference to grab my dress and pull it over my head. Without any bra on, I was naked from the waist up—and even when I remembered I had a whole layer of fur around my body keeping me from being naked, I still felt so exposed that I wanted to cross my arms over my chest. “There’s my favorite costume, looking good as always! At least you were nice enough to go somewhere private,” Janine muttered.

She pushed me down flat against the floor, then lifted my legs to pull my panties and shoes off, and presumably my purse was removed at some point as well. I couldn’t see what she was doing: I was staring up at the gray ceiling, relying on touch alone to figure out what was happening. Once again I tried to move, to thrash around, but I was as inanimate as a doll.

I was being dressed like a doll, too. Some sort of undergarments and shorts were slid up my legs, what felt like socks and sneakers were pulled over my feet, and then I was raised to a sitting position again so Janine could dress me in a bra and some kind of t-shirt.

It was infuriating, and a little scary: even Vee hadn’t taken away my control this completely. And yet, much like some of the ways Vee had taken away control, it was strangely appealing. To be puppeteered like this, treated like a mannequin to be put on display… it was growing on me.

I didn’t realize how right I was about being a mannequin until she stood me up again, and I finally got a good look at what she’d brought on her handcart. It was a short, cylindrical dais. Atop it were two imprints the size and shape of my feet. Janine grabbed me around the waist and leaned back to lift me, one slow step at a time, toward the plinth. “Did you gain weight?” she huffed.

The thought struck me, though it probably should have long before: Janine didn’t know I was in here. She thought she was just dealing with an empty, self-moving fursuit.

Another thought occurred to me: I couldn’t make Vicky’s mouth move. But I’d been talking inside my own head all day, without the fursuit’s mouth moving. Would that still work?

“Vee?” I whispered, just to test. My human mouth’s movement was restricted by the frozen fursuit mouth, slurring my speech a little, but a success was a success. “Vee! Can you hear me? Why can’t I move?”

No answer.

“Vee, are you the one doing this? This isn’t funny!”

Janine reached the handcart, oblivious to my internal monologue. “Upsy-daisy,” she grunted, lifting me onto the plinth. As soon as my shoes reached the footprints, they snapped into place: there had to be some kind of magnetic connection in them, designed to keep the fursuit from falling over while on display.

“Finally,” Janine said. She adjusted my pose, and even my expression—grabbing and manipulating my jaw, tilting my head—and then took the handle of the handcart and started pushing. “Look, honestly, I don’t mind you vanishing overnight, it probably wasn’t your fault, but why didn’t you come find me once you were here?” She sighed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, honestly. You know this is all for your own good, right, Marian?”

Ah. That explained some things.

We re-entered the convention area. To my total lack of surprise, Janine wheeled me straight toward the part of the vendor hall that Vee had tried to keep me away from. At first, it wasn’t clear what we were aiming for—the stalls around me still looked pretty much like the ones I’d already visited—but as we kept going, it became clear.

This stall was much larger than the ones around it. The banner over the top said, “DreamsComeTrue Costumeworks”. The stall was filled with other mannequins on plinths much like my own, with barely enough room to walk around between them. I saw simple accessories like ears or paws; plain mannequins with mundane, though very high quality, cosplay outfits; and other fursuits, and even a quadsuit on all fours.

An empty space had been marked off near the entrance of the stall.

Janine reached up and pulled a ‘be back soon!’ tag off the banner, then rotated me into place so I was facing away from her stall. She lifted the back of the handcart so my dais slid off and landed in the empty space. Here I was, the prime exhibit of the store. Just a thing to be used for profit.

“Vee,” I hissed again. “Can you please start talking?”

A reflective surface across the hallway caught my eye: conveniently, the stall opposite Janine’s was selling mirrors. When the view wasn’t being blocked by passersby, I could see myself and the whole stall behind me, and for the first time I could see my pose.

My mouth was open in a smile, and my hand was frozen in a wave, inviting one and all to visit DreamsComeTrue Costumeworks. I even had the logo on my t-shirt, though it was distorted by the way my breasts were pushed out against the tight fabric. My short shorts rode just low enough to let my tail be visible, and to be risque without being obscene. An object, being objectified.

“Vee?” I asked one last time, but to be honest I had half a mind to just let this all happen.

And then, to my surprise, she spoke. “Sorry,” she whispered, so quietly that I could barely hear.

“Vee!” I was so happy to hear her that I could have kissed her, except for the several reasons that was impossible. “Why can’t I—why can’t we move?”

“You’re not allowed to move,” she said.

“I’m not?”

Her voice was monotone, like she’d been hypnotized. “Janine’s your owner. When she says you have to stay still, it’s very important that you listen to her. She gets mad if you don’t.”

I blinked. “Vee, I think you’re confused. Janine was your owner. Not mine.”

“She was? She was….” She paused for a while. “I’m sorry, I just get confused around her sometimes.”

“And, keyword here, was your owner. She threw you out, remember? And then you came home with me?”

“I… didn’t tell the truth.” The words were pained and came slowly. “I never stopped belonging to her. She really was going to pick me back up—”

“I know she said that, but she still threw you away! I don’t think it counts at that point.”

“Look, John, I’m sorry. This was all a huge mistake. Janine gave me this body, this life, everything. I shouldn’t have tried to stay away from her—but I’m sorry you got dragged into it.”

I didn’t reply for a few seconds. It had been a while since she’d used my actual name. “Well,” I said eventually, “can we at least have some fun with it while we’re here?”

“Oh. Oh!” At least for a moment, Vee was her usual suggestive self again. “I think I know exactly what kind of fun you mean, Vicky.”

She was right. The buzzing in my crotch started back up, and it was even more intense now inside the tight shorts. And I could do nothing to relieve it.

The next several hours passed in a pleasurable haze. Vee ramped the level of vibration up and down, never loud enough to be visible to anyone outside the costume, and never intense enough for me to reach a climax. I panted, effectively gagged by the fursuit, and tried to buck my hips to no avail.

It was so naughty. Naughty and completely hidden to the crowds around, and to the people who came into the stall, examining my body up close, walking around to see every angle. Some of them even put their hands on me, gently or roughly, getting a feel for the fur and the padding. And none of them knew I was here, feeling every single touch and every single leering gaze.

I realized with a start that I recognized the voice of one of the people touching me. “You know,” she said, “I saw someone wearing a fursuit that looked just like this, just this morning, only she was dressed differently. She wouldn’t say where she got the suit.”

“Oh! You must have found one of my satisfied customers.” That was Janine’s voice, but I couldn’t see her. I could hear her trying to suppress her annoyance at my excursion.

I could see the girl in front of me, though, and I could feel her too. She was the first person who’d asked me to pose for a picture with her, and she hadn’t gotten handsy then. Now she was running her fingers along my body, with no idea anyone might be inside. “She’s gorgeous,” the girl said, and then looked guiltily to the side. “Sorry, do you mind if I….”

“I’ll let you know if I mind. But I’m always fine with people inspecting my wares. How do you know what you’re getting otherwise?”

“All right, thanks!” The girl reached up and squeezed my breast. I let out a little whine, as if it really were my breast. “She’s so well padded,” the girl said, letting her hand run down my curves to land on my rear. Inches away from the buzzing vibrator. “And I love what those shorts are doing to her ass.”

“Come on,” I whispered, hoping she could hear me but knowing she couldn’t. Wishing I could grind against her hand as the buzzing reached a fever pitch. “Come on, touch me, squeeze me, use me, put your hand inside my shorts, I’m so close—”

She let go, and I groaned. “God,” she said, “I probably can’t afford her, but I have to know—” she turned to Janine “—how much would she even cost?”

Janine, still invisible to me, laughed. “Oh, Marian here isn’t for sale at all. She’s a unique project I made for someone very special, to make her dream come true. But when my commissions open back up, I could make a replica of her for, let’s say… somewhere in the high thousands?”

“Whoof! Yeah, I figured. I’ll just stick with those cute paws there.” The girl laughed and exited my field of vision.

A minute or so later, when she left the stall with some goods in her bag, Janine said out loud, “Say goodbye, Marian.” She reached up to grab Vicky’s hand—my hand—and waved after the girl. “Goodbye!” she said in a voice a bit like Vicky’s. Then she playfully slapped my rear.

“Goodbye,” I parroted. I watched myself in the mirror, this life-sized doll being manipulated like any other object. If Vee hadn’t turned down the vibration right then, I would have climaxed.

Vee also seemed to be having fun. At first she hadn’t let out a peep, but after more than an hour of vibration, she was making quiet noises of pleasure, little mms and ahhs. It was surprising, considering she hadn’t made any such noises before now.

It was hard to think about that, though, or think about anything at all. I was squirming inside the fursuit, making what little movements I could in the strict confines around me. I tried rubbing my member up and down against the inside of the belly, thankful for the tight shorts that pressed the fur to my skin. It was achingly comfortable, but never enough to achieve release.

Periodically Janine would adjust my pose. I recognized many of the same looks that Vee herself had taught me, and like always she’d been right: it did make me look hot. Even people who weren’t buying anything dropped into the stall to take a picture with the dummy fursuit, the star of the show—and of course, some of them left with bags of merchandise anyway.

On one of the pose changing occasions, when no one was immediately around, Janine whispered up to me, “Now isn’t this fun, Marian? And you almost missed out on it.” Then the moment passed, and she let go and walked away. Nothing else she did, the whole time, indicated that there might be someone sentient inside the costume.

It was almost hard to believe it myself. It was almost like—like a VR simulation. I was placed in this space but I could hardly believe that it was actually me in it. If I hadn’t told Vee that Janine wasn’t my owner, maybe I would start thinking I was just a costume.

The hours flew away. The crowds died down. I was barely conscious, half-dozing from the lack of activity, when I heard Janine’s voice calling out behind me: “All right, everyone, it’s eight o’clock, the store is closing! Finish up your purchases and scram because momma’s gotta get some sleep tonight.” She walked in front of me, took my hands, and made me grab and hold a sign which I assumed said ‘Closed’.

The last few people filed out after a few minutes. Then some new people came in: not customers, but burly movers. “All right, guys,” Janine said, “you know where my truck is, let’s not waste time. We’ve all got places to be!”

That was enough to get me awake again, as the stocky men walked around me, picking up various displays and putting them on moving dollies. One of them grabbed me and lifted me off the dais, which released the magnets in my sneakers after a strange pulling sensation. His grip around my sensitive waist made me mewl.

Then I was flat on the dolly, laying face down next to some other merchandise. The floor slid along beneath me as the dolly rolled. My mind raced: where was this truck? Where was I going to end up? Was Janine ever going to realize there was someone in here?

“Okay, Vee,” I said, working hard to focus, “it’s been fun. But we need to go now. Stop being rigid, okay?”

“I… I can’t.”

“I know she said you can’t. But I need you to, okay? I need to get out of here. I’m a human person, I can’t be packed in a truck!”

“You can. Trust me.”

“Well, I really don’t want to, okay!?” I snapped.

“I mean… has this been so bad?” she said. “I know you liked it, like I like it. Where else would I get this?”

“I did like it. I really, surprisingly, did. But you know I can’t do that all the time! I have a life!”

We rode an elevator down a floor, then rolled out. Instead of smooth convention floors, I saw the asphalt of the parking garage, and the cart shook beneath me on the rougher surface. And when the people pushing me stopped a minute later, I could see the truck’s wheels in my limited peripheral vision.

“Let me deal with that fursuit,” Janine ordered from somewhere above me. “It’s very special to me, and I want to make sure I’m packing it carefully. You can pack everything else.”

I heard the sound of everything else being placed in the truck, with greater or lesser amounts of care. The various items piled next to me on the dolly were taken away. Before very long, Janine was thanking and paying the movers, and they were walking away. It was just me and her in an empty parking garage.

“Now would be a good time, Vee,” I said.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I just—I just can’t.”

Next thing I knew, hands were grabbing my breasts from behind, and I was being lifted up. Vee whimpered, and Janine grunted, and my body was flopped onto the truck’s rear step in undignified fashion, first my upper half and then my lower half. Janine stepped up to the truck beside me and pulled me vertical again, letting me see inside.

The majority of the truck was filled with the other contents of the DreamsComeTrue stall, but right at the rear end of the cargo bed was a Vicky-sized box, filled with packing foam that left a Vicky-sized void in the middle. “Won’t this be comfortable?” Janine asked, panting with the exertion of lifting me. “You’ll get to lie down nice and easy on the ride back. And since you did such a good job advertising tonight, I think I’ll unpack you first thing tomorrow, how does that sound?”

First thing tomorrow? “Vee,” I hissed, “seriously.” No response.

“Honestly, I don’t know what got into you, running off like that,” Janine was saying. She smirked. “I know you love this routine, and not to fish for gratitude or anything, but without me, how would you get to do it? You wouldn’t even be a costume.”

There was no time to think about the ramifications of those words. “Vee!” I said. “Yesterday night when I found you, you were limp. Was that because she ordered you to be limp?”

“Yeah?”

“But you stopped being limp. You came to life, even though she didn’t say you could. Why?”

“Well—well, because—”

“Why, Vee?”

“Because you were nice!” she blurted out. “You were nice, and you really took care of me, and I thought—I thought things could be better if I was with you instead.”

Janine was lowering me into the box. “Let’s get you nice and comfortable,” she cooed.

“Vee, listen to me,” I said. “I am here. And things can be better. But you have to let me move. Now.”

I was fully laid down inside the box. Janine was picking up the lid—

I raised my arm and sat up.

Janine froze. “What?” she said, as I pushed myself to my feet, standing taller than her. I slapped the lid out of her hand. “Marian, what are you doing? I told you to—”

Before she could say anything like ‘go rigid’, I stepped forward and grabbed her face, keeping her from talking. She made muffled noises of distress as I held her.

“I’ve had enough,” I said in Vicky’s voice. “I’m not going to be with you anymore. Don’t go looking for me.”

I spun her around and threw her into the box. She gasped as she landed in the void that had been intended for me. “Marian, what is going on?” she yelled.

I grabbed the lid. “Call me Vicky!” I threw it on top of the box, shutting Janine in. Then, for good measure, I took one of the shelving units standing next to the box and pushed it over, sealing her inside.

The box shook, and I could hear Janine was saying something, but not what that something was. The shelving unit was moving, and it was clear that this wouldn’t keep Janine in there forever, but I didn’t want to imprison her—I just needed to be left alone for long enough. “Where’s my stuff, where’s my stuff,” I muttered, looking around but not seeing it in the hold. I jumped out of the truck, yanking the door down behind me, and ran to the cab in the front.

There, on the passenger seat, were the things that Janine had taken away from me. My dress, my shoes, my panties, and most importantly my purse—the purse that had my wallet and keys for my car. She didn’t even seem to have opened it.

I grabbed it and ran.

My car was parked pretty close. I jumped in, turned it on, and peeled out of the garage so fast my tires squealed. My heartrate was pounding, and wouldn’t have let me go slower.

Only once I was on the freeway did I start laughing. It started as a giggle, then a chuckle, then a full, body-wracking laugh, all in Vicky’s melodious voice. “Well!” I cackled. “That sure was an experience!” It wasn’t that anything was funny, but I needed the release in tension after that tense getaway.

That wasn’t the only release I was chasing, either. “Hey, Vee,” I said. “Turn on the crotch vibrator again, at the lowest setting. Just to warm me up for when I get home..”

The vibrator turned on. I squirmed in my seat. “Ooh, that’s so nice. Thanks, Vee.”

No response.

“Vee? Hey, want to try singing with me again, or….”

She was silent the entire drive home.

I moved quickly when I reached my apartment. Shirt came off, shoes came off, shorts and underwear came off so fast I didn’t know how I didn’t rip them. I rushed to the bathroom, unzipped the fursuit, and pulled out my penis.

After a whole day of stimulation, it barely took any stroking at all. I came so hard that my knees buckled. I almost fell over, and had to plant one hand against the wall in front of me as the other guided my member, making sure my seed was released into the bowl instead of all over my fur. My body spasmed and spasmed again, and I panted with the exertion, unable to even see past the stars in my eyes.

Finally, it was done. I let go of myself, wiped my skin clean with some TP, flushed, and walked back into my living room. There I unzipped the rest of the way, and started trying to get out of Vicky.

It was a tough process, especially since I wasn’t getting any help from Vee. But eventually, I managed to extricate my head from her head, my arms from her arms, my legs from her legs. I was free, naked and sweating, and I flopped down onto the floor with a smile on my face. “What a day,” I panted.

Vicky the fursuit was flopped beside me. My chest was heaving and my fingers twitching, but nothing about her was moving at all, just like she hadn’t spoken on the car ride home. In fact, she hadn’t spoken or moved since she released me from being rigid and let me free us from Janine. She was practically catatonic.

“Vee,” I said, and then stopped myself. “Vicky?” I wasn’t sure which one to use now that I was outside the costume. After a few seconds, I decided on, “Vee? We need to talk.”

I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t respond.

I groaned and sat up, feeling the ache from standing still for hours on end, and cracked my neck and back before continuing. “Okay, so if you don’t want to talk yet, that’s fine, but… remember earlier, when I said that sooner or later we all have to stop pretending?”

I looked at Vicky. Really looked at her. In particular, looked at all of her amazing curves and padding.

“Janine said some things this afternoon that I can’t stop thinking about. Stuff about how she made you—made this fursuit as a… what was her wording? Unique project for someone very special? And right at the end, she said something about how without her, you wouldn’t even be a costume.”

Still no response. I inched a little closer to her. “And now I’m looking at you and I’m thinking about the way you’re padded. I never thought about it this way before but… your padding is really big. And after being inside you all day, I think I know exactly how big it is.”

I took a moment to gather myself: once I said this next part, there was no going back.

“I think it’s big enough that you could hide a whole human being in there.”

That got a reaction. A sharp intake of breath from around Vicky’s mouth. No movement, though.

“Oh, Vee,” I said, taking her hand and squeezing it. “What happened to you?”

For several seconds longer, no response. But at long last, Vicky moved. She rolled over toward me, grabbed the open zipper hole in her belly, and held it wide open. An invitation.

I took a deep breath, then bent down and crawled back in. I wasn’t sure why, but it was clear Vee needed some physical closeness right now.

Once I was inside and had closed the zipper, it still took a few seconds for her to start speaking. “Vee,” I repeated, “what happened to—” I stopped myself. “What happened to me?”

After a long pause, she started talking. “A long time ago, there was a stupid girl with a dumb impossible fetish, and that girl was you.”

I stood up, walked to my bedroom, and sat down on the bed. It was more comfortable than the hard floor.

“You probably spent too much time on the internet or something, looking at weird pictures of costumes on niche websites, reading silly stories. And you got this fetish of… of being an object. Not just any object, but a living costume. You waned to be the kind of living costume that could swallow someone up and take them over and do whatever you wanted to them.

“And that was obviously never going to happen, because this was reality, even though you wanted it so much.”

I let my head fall against the pillow as Vee’s tale continued. “And then you met Janine, who made really incredible costumes. And Janine was really nice at first, and so interested, and eventually you spilled your guts to her. And you were amazed when she said she could do that. And when she created this fursuit she called Marian a month later, you were beyond thrilled.

“The secret was a zipper, hidden inside a fold on the back, that could let you be the fursuit. It would let you hide inside the padding, squeezed tight on every side, and play the role of this beautiful, sexual object.” Vee’s voice got breathy, aroused. “She even put in all sorts of bells and whistles. A voice changer to hide your human voice. Lightweight but strong robotic joints that would let you overpower whoever wore you, just like your fantasy. Vibrators built in for extra fun.

“You were ecstatic. You jumped into the costume, and Janine zipped you in, and then you grabbed her and shoved her inside, and you played your little roleplay game with her and had the night of your life, and you felt so beautiful. You said you wanted this to last forever. And things were perfect—for a while.”

I sighed. “And what happened to me next?” I asked, though I had some idea of what the answer would be.

“What happened next was that Janine was even more thrilled about the costume than you were. She started looking sad to see you out of the costume, getting cheered up when she saw you in it, and that made sense because it was such a nice thing and she made it for you. So you wanted to wear it for her, more and more, and it was so much fun.”

Her voice had been so excited until now, but now it got darker. “And then one day, Janine came up to you with a needle and thread, and told you that you could stay in the costume forever. And you were really unsure about it, but she was so excited, and you were a little excited too, and—you said yes.” Vee laughed bitterly. “And it was exciting, and terrifying, knowing you were sealed in. It was fun.”

I hugged myself, because it was the only way to hug her.

“But it kept getting less fun. Janine had her costume business, she said she never had enough spare time for you, and she wore you less and less. She started training you how to be rigid, or limp, on command, all to complete the illusion. You went along with it, even if you weren’t sure about it, and you got so good at it that it became less like a conscious choice, and more like—like a hypnotic trigger.”

She talked faster and faster. “And she left you inanimate more and more, treating you more and more like you really were just a thing. And if you complained, or tried to start a fight about it, she’d just make you feel so guilty. She’d say she did this for you, that you wanted it to last forever and now it did, and why weren’t you grateful?” she asked, sneering.

“And I told myself I was fine with that,” I said, guessing what came next, “because it still was my fantasy in a way, but Janine wasn’t playing along with me. I was doing everything she wanted, but she wasn’t giving anything back.”

Vee’s breath caught. Her words slowed down again. “She went even further with the inanimate object thing. She said it was all part of the game, and maybe it was a game to her. If she caught you acting like a human person and not like a costume, ruining the illusion, you got alone time in a trashbag as an inanimate object. She said it was fun, and you wanted to believe it was, but it wasn’t anymore and you didn’t know to tell her.”

I was certain I could hear tears in her voice. “You couldn’t take it anymore. And then, after another fight, when you were lying in a dumpster like trash, someone came and found you and brought you home….”

She took a deep breath. “You brought me home.”

I exhaled. I unzipped the fursuit and clambered out, and looked at her. She was looking away from me, but still sitting upright, no longer limp. “That was wrong, what happened to you,” I said. “That was wrong and awful and she shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“She’s not a bad person,” Vicky said, and sniffed. “Not really. She just got carried away, and I couldn’t tell her, and—I’m so stupid.”

“I don’t care whether she’s a bad person or not. She was bad to you, and she should have known better.” I looked around. “Can I get you out? I’m sure I’ve got a pair of scissors somewhere around—”

“Don’t! I—” Vicky caught herself. “The person inside me, inside Vicky, doesn’t need to come out. She might be able to get out in an emergency but—but it would damage me, possibly beyond repair. She really doesn’t want that, no matter what.”

“But what about—about food, and water? How do you—how does she eat, or go to the bathroom, or anything?”

“There’s little secret holes in me for those,” she said. “Small enough that you can’t see them, but big enough to let her eat and drink, or do whatever else she needs to do. She can live in me.”

I leaned down, my hands on either sides of her legs. “Does she want to?”

“She… doesn’t think she can do anything else, yet. Maybe one day, but not now.”

“All right.” A thought struck me. “Wait, it’s been over 24 hours since I found you, and—have you—has she eaten?”

Vicky shook her head. “Not since I got thrown out yesterday.”

“Be right back.” I hurried to my kitchen and found the easiest things to eat I had—snack bars and a water bottle. I rushed back in and put it all down on the bed next to her. “Do you need help feeding her, or….”

“Actually, John, could you… leave the room for a bit?” Vicky looked bashful. “She’s not supposed to spoil the illusion by acting human.”

Right, Janine’s rules. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

I walked out and closed the bedroom door. From inside, I heard sounds of chewing and drinking, but only for a minute or so. Then, she called, “You can come back in.” When I did, the water bottle and snacks—and it had been a large water bottle, and multiple snack bars—were completely consumed. She looked at me sheepishly, and swept her hand into the remaining plastic, knocking it behind the bed and out of sight.

“Okay. So.” I scratched the back of my neck, embarrassed myself. “I just realized, I’ve been calling you Vicky or Vee like it was your name, but Vicky is just something I decided to call you on my own. What should I call you?” I frowned. “Is Marian actually your name?”

“If you’re asking about the name of the girl inside me, she’s not really… ready to tell you.” Vicky smiled. “But as for me? Vicky, or Vee, is perfect.”

“All right, in that case: Vee, you can stay in my apartment as long as you want.”

She gasped, clasping her hands. “Really?”

“I’d be delighted to have you. And the only thing I want in exchange….” I bent down to her eye level. “I’d like to kiss the person inside you. If she’s okay with that.”

She froze for a second. Then smiled nervously. “I think she’d really like that.”

I bent down and, once again, stuck my head inside Vicky. My hand went first, feeling around the back for this hole that had been mentioned. Like she said, it was hard to find, but then I felt something—a tiny little gap in the head.

I pulled it open with my fingers and lined up my lips, then leaned forward. Two other lips—chapped and messy with crumbs, and entirely *human—*met me on the other side.

We kissed.

Then the lips pulled away, and Vicky’s arms grabbed my back. “You fell into my trap, foolish human!” she exclaimed with an evil laugh.

“Vee?” I asked, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on. “Oh, no! This costume, it’s like it’s started moving on its own!” I said in exaggerated tones of surprise.

“Haha, that’s right! I’m no ordinary costume. I’m a living costume, and now that I’ve got you, I’m never letting you go!” She spun me around, grabbed my legs, and shoved me in. I offered the most token of resistance, just to make it fun.

“Nooooo, save meeeeeeee,” I cried, as she sealed the zipper tight, enclosing me completely.

“Now, to have some fun with you, foolish human!” She tossed and turned around the bed, one hand working her breasts and the other against her crotch, and I felt the stimulation too. “You are… powerless… inside me….”

Her and my hips bucked only a few seconds later, and she let out gasps of pleasure. She must have been even more pent up than I was, waiting for a chance to really fulfill her fantasy.

But it had been a long day. The tossing and turning didn’t take long to slow, and soon after that she came to a complete stop. I could hear her breathing quietly behind me, now that I knew to listen for it.

I sighed, and tucked us under the covers. “Sweet dreams, Vee.”