Soviet Fluffy Tails: The Journalist

You are a journalist

After months of wading through red tape, you're finally being allowed past the fluffy curtain.

Your breath clouds the air before you. It's freezing here, even in spring, yet the kitsune guarding the border crossing seem untroubled by the weather in spite of their light, perhaps even scandalous, uniforms. You focus on the sloe-eyed one nearest to you. The image of her, with her rifle slung low, her sleeves cuffed up, relaxed though everyone around her is shivering, makes for a nice scene. You’re not sure exactly what you'll do with it, but you snap her picture. She turns to look at you head-on as the flash goes off and smiles, baring a mouthfull of dangerous-looking teeth. She's rather pretty even with those menacing bicuspids, and since she doesn’t seem bothered by your taking her picture, you decide to snap a few more. You're adjusting your focus for your next shot when you feel a hand come to rest on your shoulder

"Sir, I'm afraid I'm going to need you to come with us"

You are taken to a windowless room by a group of guards, who smirk and chuckle evilly at your protests. A pair of kitsune in officer's uniforms enter shortly and share a knowing look.

"You can't just keep me here I'm-"

The taller of the two immediately shoves one of her fluffy tails into your mouth. She folds her arms and tilts her head, acting as though she’s having trouble hearing you, a smug smile on her face. While her opposite number gags you, the shorter of the two strips you with practiced ease and cuffs you to your chair. Once you’re completely naked, the kitsune gagging you seats herself on your lap, her buttocks resting on your manhood.  She curls her free tails around you, tickling as much of your exposed skin as she can. Any areas that escape her teasing attack are quickly covered by her comrade, who sidles from behind to caress you while licking and nibbling at your ears and neck. You try not to laugh, but with every inch of your skin subject to the light, teasing, tickles of their velvet-soft tails it proves impossible. You reluctantly choke out a series of hysterical giggles around the fluffy appendage filling your mouth. Your panicked tittering only encourages the sadistic duo; the kitsune in your lap wraps a few of her tails around your genitals, devoting them exclusively to stimulating your sex, while the kitsune looming over your shoulder steps up from simple licking to making hickeys all over your neck. In spite of your resolve to not give them the satisfaction of seeing you react, you feel yourself hardening rapidly, prompting the kitsune in your lap to start wriggling and gyrating erotically. Her arousal has soaked through her panties, and as she moves she smears you with her hot, musky lubricant. She tickles the underside of your cockhead with one tail and uses another to stroke your shaft, gripping you with greater strength than you’d expect such a delicate appendage to be capable of. You feel a third cup your sack, squeezing as if hoping to wring your seed from it. You start to squirm under the intimate assault, whimpering openly, your dignity and defiance totally forgotten.

They both cackle at your increasingly degraded state. The kitsune sucking on your neck starts urging you to stop resisting, promising that your stay will be less painful if you just let them take their pleasure, while the girl in your lap calls out blunt commands to hurry up and cum. You grit your teeth and try to contain yourself, but her skillful attentions to your manhood overwhelm the last of your willpower and you explode into the soft sheath of her tails. She continues to stroke you as you cum, smearing her fur with your seed. She stands up as you finally finish, strings of semen hanging between your shaft and her cluster of tails. She seats herself in front of you and begins licking your release from her fur, eyes boring into yours. So transfixed are you by her gaze that you don’t notice the kitsune behind you stripping until she saunters around in front of you, twirling her passion-dampened underwear around her finger.

“My turn”

She stretches her panties over your face, smothering you with the smell of her desire, and takes her comrade’s place on your lap. You protest that you can’t possibly get it up again so soon, but even as you speak you feel a lance of arousal cutting to your loins from your nose as your every breath is saturated with her scent. You start to harden, in spite of the pain of doing so again after having just ejaculated. She curls her tails around your cock as her partner did and begins the work of forcing you to cum again. You merely struggled earlier, now you thrash, your restraints clacking and clattering as you desperately try to escape the painfully pleasurable grasp of the kitsune on top of you. She taunts you as you fight against your bonds, then shifts herself up and back, wedging your member between the soft globes of her ass. She bunches her tails up around your glans and begins sliding up and down, stroking your length with her tender behind and twirling her soft fur around your cockhead. The forcefully delivered orgasm her partner gave you only a few minutes ago left you extremely sensitive, and before long you feel another rush of heat building between your legs. You let out a stuttering breath as you cum again, smearing her with semen.

You sit quietly as she continues to rub at your abused penis, working your spunk deeper into her fur, fearing that anything you do might incense them to rape you again. When she stands up, you see that it was a wasted effort. The first kitsune has disrobed and is sashaying toward you, wearing the cruelest smile you’ve ever seen.

---

The two officers use you for hours, using their race’s unbelievable sexual prowess to keep you hard and force you to ejaculate far beyond the normal limits of the human body, until their fur is matted with sweat and semen. They share another smug look as they nibble and lick their tails, savoring their ill-gotten gains.

“Well, I’m convinced he doesn’t know anything.”

After a hazy shuffle of being redressed and dragged through the halls while trying to stay steady on your shaky legs, you’re given a last grope and booted into an alley. Your possessions aren’t far behind, clattering to the ground not far from where you land.

You lie face down for what feels like ages. You keep telling yourself that you just need a minute’s more rest, that you’ll pull yourself off the cold, gritty concrete soon, but you’re so tired that the minutes drag on into what must be an hour or more of lying breathless on the ground. You don’t find the will to force yourself from the ground until a shadow falls over you. You scramble up to your knees and look up to face a kitsune citizen standing at the mouth of the alley. She has the sun to her back, cloaking all of her in shadow save for her glinting yellow eyes. She smiles at you as you struggle to right yourself, her jagged mouthful of predatory teeth shining as brightly as her eyes.

“Tourist…”

She flits away before you can speak, chuckling and shaking her head. You stare numbly at the space where she stood, until your mind finally brings itself back up to speed and starts working out a course of action.

First things first: you need to take stock of your belongings. You gather your wallet, empty, and your pocket flask, drained, from the ground and then turn your attention to your camera bag. The camera itself survived its fall intact, but as you check through the bag’s pouches you realize that all your film has been confiscated. That’s your first task then. Find a store, buy fresh film, and most importantly, keep your mind off of your recent violation. You dust yourself off, sling your camera bag over your shoulder, and march out into the street.

As you meander through the streets in search of a store, you notice that all eyes seem to be on you. Every kitsune you pass by takes a moment from what they’re doing to look in your direction. Those in groups gesture in your direction and whisper to each other, some blushing at whatever their friends are saying. Rounding a corner, you nearly bump into a primly dressed kitsune with a pair of glasses balanced on her nose and her hair drawn back into a ponytail. You stare at her. She stares back. It occurs to you that you have no idea where you’re going, and that since you left the guard station you haven’t spoken to a single kitsune. There’s no reason to be afraid of them, especially not the orderly little office worker in front of you.

You start to ask her for directions, but before you can get two words out she’s leapt forward, dragged you to the ground, and forced her lengthy tongue into your mouth in a shockingly invasive kiss.

“You’re very brave to be wandering around here all by yourself, No-tail. Very brave or very foolish.”

You try to push her off of you, but she’s much stronger than she looks, and your struggling actually seems to arouse her more. You feel her slipping her tails into your clothing as she leans in for another kiss, tickling at sensitive areas and curling around you possessively. As you feel her soft fur dancing across your skin, your mind is assailed by you all-too-recent experience with the secret-police. You seize up into a fear-paralyzed fuck-doll, your body ignoring your mind as you lie still beneath the belligerent kitsune and allow her to violate you. She distractedly utters a few hollow words of praise as she senses your submission, most of her attention focused on sliding her hands up her thighs, under her charcoal-colored skirt, to slip her panties down around one ankle. Her own garment out of the way, she tugs viciously at your pants until she exposes your cock, stiffening on mechanical instinct rather than any genuine desire for the mating being forced on you.

“I’m going next!”

“The hell you are!”

You tear your eyes away from the kitsune straddling you to see that a circle of kitsune citizens has formed around you. They alternate between egging your attacker on and debating amongst themselves as to who has the most right to take her place once she finishes. The details are lost to you, as your rapist impales herself on you with no foreplay or pretense, and you become unable to focus on anything other than the preternatural tightness and warmth of her inner passage and the constant, paralyzing tickling of her tails. She rides you with reckless abandon, a wet slap accompanying every thrust of her hips, moaning louder and louder as she uses you to bring herself to climax.

It doesn’t take her long; she obviously hasn’t mated in a while. You feel her seize up as she lets out a yowl of ecstasy, spending a few seconds twitching and screeching on top of you before soaking you with her sticky release.  The pool of red-hot femcum she spreads across your body billows steam into the cold air. She plants her hands on your shoulders to steady herself as she pants and gasps, trying to regain her breath. As she does, you look into her eyes and see that she’s very much ready and willing to go again, but the various kitsune jostling her preclude another round.

As your first rapist reluctantly slides your member out of still-twitching pussy, you catch a glimpse of your second. A rather plump and full-figured kitsune moves toward you, pushing an underdeveloped kitsune, barely out of puberty, obviously her daughter, in front of her.

“Don’t be nervous, Honey. He won’t bite.”

The smaller kistune wrings her hands as she approaches you, her eyes darting between your face and her own feet, her cheeks and shoulders beet-red. Her tail twitches behind her like a separate being, flicking toward you eagerly then swishing back behind her back as shyness overcomes her. Her mother slowly slides up behind her, wrapping her arms around her daughter’s waste and offering her perverse encouragements as she approaches you. She attempts to lower herself onto your fem-slicked lap gently, but her trembling knees give out the moment she bends them, and she drops onto you with a startled cry, her plump vulva pressing your cock against your stomach, the soft lips squishing down around either side of your shaft. The young girl gasps as she feels her painfully erect clit press against your glans and begins sliding herself forward and back, shivering at the sensation of your length dragging across her sex.

The elder kitsune coos encouragingly to her daughter, patting her head and pinching her ears as she timidly explores the range of pleasurable sensations she can wring from you. She dips her hands down and positions them beneath her child’s butt, lifting her up to allow your dick to stand straight and then lowering her onto your stiff breeding rod. The tiny kitsune whines and whimpers as inch after inch of your pulsing cockflesh glides past her petals into her virgin interior. She loses the last of her composure as she bottoms out, letting out a loud cry. Her mother slips her finger into her child’s mouth, letting the younger kitsune sink her teeth into the delicate digit to silence her. She brings her mouth close to her child’s ear and starts whispering to her, dryly providing the girl with directions on how to make the “no-tail” cum quickest. The small kitsune’s tails start tickling at you clumsily, but the sensation is enough to get you squirming and whimpering; a small, fearful voice in the back of your head telling you that the touch of her tails will escalate into outright torture if you don’t give her what she wants soon. You feel her folds starting to clench in gentle, wavelike motions as she nears her edge. The extra stimulation is just enough to force another wash of semen from you. The young kitsune atop you lets her mother’s finger slip from between her lips with a wet pop and emits a feral wail at the feeling of being inseminated. Her screaming continues until she’s interrupted by a few gruff curses from somewhere in the crowd.

All eyes focus on a kitsune police officer as she shoulders her way in front of the throng of citizens surrounding you, demanding to know what’s going on. The flow of invectives dies on her lips as she sees you and the duo of kitsune assaulting you. For a few moments you feel a flicker of hope that she might do something to help you, but those hopes are dashed when a perverse smile breaks out on her face. She relaxes and adjusts her hat, her tails twisting around each other.

“Be sure to clean up after yourself, Citizen.”

She spins on her heel and struts off down the street, leaving you to the whims of the insatiable beastwomen surrounding you. The young kitsune stands up unsteadily, her knees shaking and her eyes glazed, drunk with the giddy pleasure of having mated to completion. She walks off hand-in-hand with her mother, trembling slightly and leaving a trail of sexual fluids in her wake. You groan as another kitsune presses her crotch against you. As she starts working toward getting her share of your semen, you notice a handful of kitsune with larger clusters of tails than the others gesturing authoritatively to the rest of the crowd, forming them into a neat queue. You suspect you’re going to be here a while.

---

After being used as a sextoy by the entire neighborhood, the last of the kitsune finally splashes her orgasm onto your already-soaked body and gets off of you. If her fine clothes and makeup are any indicator, she’s some kind of lesser noble or aristocrat, though clearly not above slumming it with the lower classes if there’s a male to be had. She stands over you and picks disinterestedly through her handbag, mixed clear and white fluid running down her legs. Eventually she pulls out a billfold and drops it to the ground next to you. She winks.

“Thanks for the good time sweetie.”

A chill wind blows over you and you shiver in your wet clothes. Your stomach growls. Though you left your dignity behind long ago, you still feel the need to check your surroundings before you reach over and snatch the money off the concrete. Film is now the furthest thing from your mind, you just want dry clothes and something to eat.

The sun is low in the sky as you finally get back on your feet and begin your search. The streets are nearly empty now, and most of the shops are either closed or closing. It hardly matters; you can’t read the kitsune alphabet and there isn’t a word of English to be seen on any of the signs. You don’t dare enter any of the structures you pass, you’d certainly be on your back before you could even finish asking them if they sold food. The glare from the slowly setting sun briefly blinds you as you round a corner, and it finally hits home that in addition to being cold, wet, and hungry, you have nowhere to stay tonight. Tears fog your vision as you shuffle aimlessly down the sidewalk, the knot in your stomach forgotten. You’re miserable and exhausted, but if you stop moving it’s only a matter of time until another gang of kitsune descends on you.

“Hot soup! Hot soup!”

You look up to find yourself in front of a humble church. A tired looking single-tailed kitsune in a habit stands amidst rough-hewn benches and chairs on the grass in front of it, stirring a steaming cauldron. She looks at you pointedly and repeats her call. You take a few wary steps forward, ready to bolt at the first sign of movement from her.

“Come and sit a while traveler. You look tired.”

You shuffle forward a little more boldly as the smell wafting off the cauldron hits your nose, the promise of food and warmth overpowering your fear of another pelvis-bruising rape session.

“Come on! I won’t bite!”

She pushes a bowl of kreplach soup into your hands as soon you get within arm’s reach of her. The sudden motion startles you so much that you nearly drop it and run. She gives you a moment to steady yourself before guiding you to a bench, carefully ignoring your tear-stained cheeks and the thick reek of sex surrounding you. She drapes a coarse blanket over your shoulders and returns to her cauldron.

You roll the bowl between your hands as you wait for your soup to cool, letting the warm vessel put some life back into your stiff fingers. As you take your first tentative sip, you hear lively chatter from behind you. A loose mob of kitsune is walking up the street toward the church. You very nearly leap from your seat and book it, but the thought of not getting to finish your meal holds you firmly in place until they’re too close for escape to be a realistic option. You find yourself trembling in expectation of more harassment as they get a good look at you, but they pay you no more mind than a look of sad sympathy as they gratefully accept a bowl from the Kitsunun.

The benches on the far side of the fire slowly fill up, and some of them come to sit by you. You notice that most of them have only one or two tails, and that they all bear some sort of religious iconography on their person. You shift your eyes back to your bowl, lest they catch you staring, and try to keep quiet as they continue to converse among themselves. Eventually however, one of them gives you a playful poke in the ribs and says,

“Shut up already human! You’re such a chatterbox!”

You find yourself laughing at her unexpected joke.

“He speaks at last!” says one of her fellows.

“I was starting think your were a mute.” Says another.

The ice broken, you manage to make smalltalk with the kitsune congregation with surprising ease, relieved to find that not everyone here regards humans as sex toys. As the sun disappears beneath the horizon, the kitsune start to drift off into the night, the next day’s obligations more pressing than their obvious fascination with you. Eventually it’s only you and the Kitsunun around the dying fire. You start to shiver again in spite of your blanket.

The Kitsunun heaves herself out of her chair with a grunt and douses the fire. She clips up the steps to her church and swings the door open, briefly leaving you wondering how to pass the night, before she turns around, eyeing you expectantly.

“Are you coming in or shall I let you freeze?”

You rise and follow her into the church. It’s rather long in the tooth, but it’s clean and clearly well cared for. The Kitsunun leads you to a washroom in the back and sets a hot bath running. She keeps her expression neutral as she helps you out of her clothes, but you notice her tail swishing back and forth with more enthusiasm than before. It brushes against you and you promptly freeze up and begin pitching a tent, trembling in conditioned anticipation of a merciless sexual assault. She snatches her hands away, a mixture of arousal and guilt written on her features. An awkward silence settles between you for a few seconds before she shakes her head and refocuses, relieving you of the rest of your attire while carefully keeping her tail to herself. She excuses herself once you’re in the tub, taking your soiled clothes and a box of detergent with her.

---

You spend far longer than you feel you have a right to letting the warm water sooth your battered body, until the feeling of taking advantage of your host finally makes you haul yourself out of the tub despite your sore muscles’ ardent demands for more rest. You towel off and wrap yourself in a frayed bathrobe; a bit small for you, but you have no alternatives. You find the Kitsunun in the adjoining bedroom, now dressed in plain pajamas, reading by candlelight. Your clothes hang on a rack behind her, drying.

She smiles as you enter and asks you if you’re feeling any better. You assure her that you are and that you can’t thank her enough for her kindness. She brushes off your promises of compensation and instead steers the conversation to you and where you came from. You talk with her for over an hour, find that she’s quite interested in life beyond the curtain, before you both yawn in unison. Your eyes stray back and forth between the room’s only bed and each other. She speaks first:

“Why don’t you take the bed? It won’t be the first time I’ve slept on the ground.”

You shoot the idea down as soon as she voices it. She’s done so much already; you can’t kick her out of her own bed. She’s equally unshakeable in her refusal to let you sleep on the floor after all you’ve been through. You dance around the obvious conclusion for a while before you climb onto the narrow mattress beside her and quickly fall asleep.

---

You’re half-awoken some time later by a rhythmic jostling of the bed. You roll over and try to ignore it, hoping to fall back asleep. The jostling starts up again, gentler this time. You remain in that irritable no-man’s-land between wakefulness and sleep as it slowly intensifies. Finally, you give up on sleeping through it and sit up to find the source of the disturbance.

The Kitsunun is lying beside you, pajamas bunched up around her extremities, desperately masturbating with both hands as she stares at you. She halts mid-stroke as she realizes she’s awoken you. She starts crying, curling up into a ball and apologizing profusely, sputtering about how hard it is for kitsune to control themselves. You’re tempted to flee in the interest of your own safety, but you just don’t have it in you to leave her all alone. You gently pull her into a hug, patting her back and assuring her that it’s okay. Her choking sobs taper off, but she continues to sniffle as you hold her. You slide your hand up her back to her ears and give them a gentle scratch at the base. Your dog liked it when you did that, why not her? Her crying is cut off by a low, soft cooing from her. She leans into your touch as you work your fingers into her fuzzy ears, sighing happily. Her tail begins to wag involuntarily at the stimulation, tickling at your belly and loins. You quickly develop a hard-on, which grows harder as it pokes against her back.

She wriggles out of your grasp as she feels it pressing against her, feral instinct compelling her to nestle her face between your legs. She takes a deep breath through her nose as your cock comes to rest on her face, eager to fill her lungs with your scent. She looks up at you past your shaft, eyes glazed over with need, silently pleading for permission to continue. You’re afraid to submit yourself to her passions after your previous experiences, but eager all the same to return her affections after how kind she’s been to you.

You swallow hard and make a motion of acquiescence. She immediately takes you into her mouth, sliding her soft lips down to your base, flicking along your entire length with her obscene, inhuman tongue.  Her attentions bring to an almost painful state of arousal, and you can feel your swollen member bobbing in time with your heartbeat. Deciding that you’re ready, she slides your manhood out of her mouth with a wet pop and presses herself against you. She plants a sloppy kiss on your lips as the soaked petals of her sex dribble her musky lubricant onto your cock. Your hands, free for a change, find their way to her chest, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, prompting her nipples to stiffen against your palms. She breaks the kiss with a delighted gasp and a cry for more before coiling her luxurious tail around you and pushing you onto your back. You focus on plucking her nipples, making them grow stiffer and stiffer while she lines herself up with you. She waits for you to give her bosoms one more flick before she slaps herself onto your lap with all the force she can muster. She gushes out an orgasm after only a few thrusts, an animalistic howl piercing the night as she climaxes, but she continues to ride you as her folds gulp greedily at you, intent on reaching that blissful apex at least once more. She wraps her arms around your torso and rests against you as her ability to focus on anything but her bucking hips wanes. A few thrusts later and she squirts another wave of musty sexual bliss into your lap. She tightens her grip as she continues her desperate grinding unabated, and you grit your teeth at the sensation of her nails cutting into your back, flinching forward into her chest, the sharp lances of pain adding to the pleasurable pressure growing at the base of your manhood. Her piping-hot passage begins moving inhumanly, rolling inwards toward her cervix in concentric waves, eager to drink in every drop of your release.

With a final, wet slap, she hilts herself as you paint her innards white. She sinks her jagged teeth into your shoulder to stifle her shrieks of ecstasy. Your consciousness fades away to the sound of her muffled cry bubbling out past the trickle of blood she’s drawn from you, but not before you feel her go limp on top of you, completely spent.