Rata Smut

Claire answered the door without hesitation. She knew who it was without even needing to check. She didn't even bother getting fully dressed. The man smiled as the door opened.

"I got here earlier than expected, so I was wondering if maybe we could leave tonight."
"Well, I'm still packing, so if you're willing to wait..."
Alan nodded, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He threw off his blazer and had a seat at the desk table as Claire sat back down near the pile of clothes on the bed.

Her work was slow and meticulous, showing the utmost care for her belongings. This was the sort of behavior Alan had come to expect from her. She was seated so that Alan had an unobstructed view of her profile, watching her stretch and reach out to pick up a piece of clothing, take it back into her lap, and then fold it before packing it away in her bag. Alan couldn't help but notice that, with each stretch, her pert breasts made a slight jiggle. Just as he was growing used to this, though, Claire got down off the bed and walked closer to the pile of clothing. She must have grown tired of the stretching, as she now simply bent down to pick up some clothes, folded them in her hands, and then packed them away.
With this setup, Alan's view of her was now entirely blocked by her tail—that warm and inviting fluffiness that was the most prominent feature of the squirrel-like race Ratatoskr. He couldn't take his eyes off it. Every now and again, she would shake her backside just a bit, sending reverberations through her tail, and every time Claire did this, a certain thought grew stronger and stronger in Alan's mind. After a while, he stood up to try and get a better look. The air in the room seemed to shift as Alan watched Claire work. She felt it instinctively as only a monster of the present age could. It was rather fortunate they didn't need to check out until noon tomorrow.

Claire set the clothes she was holding back down on the bed and straightened herself slowly. With a sashay of her hips she sent her tail gently swaying side to side. Next, she stretched out one hand, letting her fingers dance about the air. With a single fluid motion, she reached behind her to grab her prized tail, wrapping the luxurious fluffiness around her before securing it with her other hand. Now she turned around to face her dear husband. Her actions were all designed to enflame his desires by accentuating the allure of her body—especially her magnificent tail. With its length and volume she could drape it over her front-side with ease. Her hands moved up and down its length as if embracing a lover, taking in every inch of softness. Her tiny fingers sinking in only further emphasized its great size. It was too much even for her sometimes. Succumbing to her own natural charms, Claire pressed her face against the gentle fluff, peeking out with one eye at Alan as her furred ears listened closely—evaluating his condition.

Alan was captivated, spellbound, and utterly transfixed. Claire knew the look well. Whenever he was overcome by countless conflicting emotions—whenever his carefully crafted personality collided with his base instincts and true desires—he seized up and went silent, save for steady, shallow breathes. Like a bottle of the sweetest champagne—or perhaps a revolver, primed and ready to fire—all it would take was a little push to set him off. And yet, it would not happen without deliberate effort.
Claire reveled in the power she held over him in these moments. Even back then, when their relationship was strictly professional, he would have these moments. The right questions, at the right times, could pierce or penetrate the outer shell of any interviewee. Knowing when and where to push, as well as when to let up, was an essential skill for a reporter. But Alan had the dual distinction of being not only incredibly susceptible to pushing, but also being very poor at hiding it. Maybe it was his youth and inexperience at keeping up a facade—especially compared to stuffy old statesmen—or perhaps it was that beautiful mind of his, always humming away beneath his handsome countenance. Perhaps, rather than drinks or firearms, he was better likened to a gourmet pastry, filled with delicious cream ready to seep out. The irony of her own name granted some levity to Claire in that analogy. There wouldn't be any harm in seeing just how far she could go.

She smirked and slowed her movements to a halt, as her tail fell back to its natural position behind her. With a few small steps, she halved the distance between them.

"Well? Aren't you going to get undressed?"

Her grin widened as she glided across the floor with a soft giggle. She was virtually pressed right up against him now—any closer and her ears would be tickling Alan's cheeks.

"Or perhaps," she pressed further, "you need some help." Her lithe fingers dipped between the folds of Alan's cream dress shirt, carefully undoing the buttons with as much skin-to-skin contact as Claire felt the young man could handle. Two buttons down, Claire gazed up at her lovers slackened expression before abruptly shoving her entire arm inside the shirt. At first, Alan could only shudder as the petite palm felt about under the restrained fabric, but in time he became aware of Claire's intentions. He regained control of his arms and began undoing the remaining buttons—the methodical work helping to wake him from his lustful stupor.

Claire increased the intensity of her movements, feeling Alan's chest all over. He wasn't a particularly rugged man—his chest had only the scantist bits of fuzz, and lacked any distinct musculature. This would be understandable for a scholarly type, but even then Alan was on the lankier side. Without those layers of fancy clothes and that padded blazer, he wasn't a very imposing figure. Perhaps this was why she felt so comfortable taking the lead in these situations.

Alan was nearly finished with the shirt. All that was left was the collar, but before he could act Claire moved her hand upwards and looped it through the fabric and the remaining button. With a bit of force she brought Alan down to her level, gazing long into his eyes before giving him a soft peck on the check and undoing the last button. From there, she gave him the slightest push on his exposed chest with her other hand, but even that was enough for Alan's knees to give way. He collapsed on to the ground, back pressed up against the wall with his legs splayed out on either side.
From this position, Claire easily towered over him, her luscious tail bobbing expectantly behind her back as her lips formed a devilish grin. She lifted a leg and gave the visible stiffness in Alan's pants a gentle prod with her footpaws. When he failed to comprehend at first, she gave him another two prods before he finally set about undoing his belt.

Alan had scarcely managed to free his length when Claire brought her paw down gently onto the head, rubbing it softly to get a feel of how firm he was so far. Satisfied, she then started slowly rubbing her feet against the shaft, swapping the side now and again, trying not to favor one over the other. All the while, Alan struggled to keep his composure, shifting about and sitting on his hands to try and prevent any interference. Claire's paws were soft and fluffy just like her tail, and her movements created a slight ticklish sensation along Alan's ever-hardening length. She began to tease him further, bringing her foot away, them moving it towards him only to miss his groin and instead rub against the side of his pants. Immediately, Alan responded by springing to his feet, dropping his drawers, and then returning to the ground in the same position as Claire struggled to form an even more smug expression. She began dragging her foot all around Alan's nether regions, tracing up and down the inside of his leg, and tickling his tool with the tufts of lighter fur around her ankles. Meanwhile, the ache between her own thighs only grew stronger, as her black-lace panties struggled to contain the spilling fluids. She maneuvered her foot further downards, prodding at Alan's sack with her fur-covered toes. After one particularly well aimed pat, she heard Alan shudder as his hips moved on their own just a tad. She withdrew her foot and walked to the far side of the room, quickly removing her soaked panties while keeping her back to her husband.

That last pat broke something in Alan. With little time to spare he stood back up and began making his way towards his wife. Claire's ears perked up at the sound of heavy, uneven footfalls on the carpeted floor. He was upon her in an instant, wrapping an arm about her chest and draping himself in her immense tail, but being sure to leave a suitable amount of fluff for him to play with. At last their hips joined, his mighty spear piercing deep into her folds. With his other hand he squeezed down on her tail as she clamped down on his length, and the two let out passionate sighs at the first of what would certainly be countless joyous eruptions on this night.

"Too long... it's been too long," Claire panted, ears twitching with delight. Work often kept her far from home—such was the life of an intrepid reporter—but her husband honestly wouldn't have her any other way. Such lengthy separations only made for more passionate reunions, and countless love letters helped ease the burden. Even so, the greatest pleasures could only be experienced in person.

Alan buried his face within her fluff and inhaled deeply, savoring the earthy scent he had committed to memory. The hand on the tail shifted about to her front, joining the other to crawl about Claire's chest before finding purchase on those beloved breasts. He slipped his fingers under her cups and teased the delicate nubs before fully encompassing the soft mounds. His wife was small in this area, no doubt, but he only loved her more for that.

As Alan continued to bask in fluff and afterglow, Claire set about shaking her hips, trying to guide her husband into a proper tempo for the second round. Eventually, possibly unconsciously, his hips began to follow along, thrusting with increasing intensity as a familar hardness returned once more. Then suddenly he slipped out. Claire was wracked by a wave of emptiness and uncertainty, till Alan spun her about to face him. With fire in his eyes he forced her down to lie on top of her tail. The thing was big enough for him to easily join her, but Alan had other plans. As he loomed over her, Claire couldn't help but shift her focus between those passionate eyes and his fully resurrected member. Her mouth opened and closed as she mulled over taking in the entire length in one go. Then her eyes snapped back to his, just in time to catch a sudden and wild spark. He bent down over her, planting his arms into the fluff on each side. In that moment he showed a ferocity one could never imagine from Alan's public face. Like a wild animal about to tear into it's prey, he poured over that twisted, delectable expression of lust and fear—no doubt Claire had taken a similar pleasure when their positions were reversed.

Then he struck.

He begun a deep and passionate kiss, entwining his tongue with hers, as his hands moved about, caressing her tail, hair, and ears—making note of the differences between each. He was rough, but not to the point were Claire was uncomfortable. Then he hilted himself all at once within Claire, whose eyes went wide, overwhelmed by all that was happening to her in this instant. Alan thrusted once, twice, three times, stronger and faster each time. Claire wanted to cry out, but she just couldn't pull away from his lips. The relationship between man and monster was entirely reversed. Here she stood as but a small animal, being devoured by an insatiable beast. She felt an intense heat spread from the point where their bodies were joined. Pleasure swept though her, consuming her. But through it all, she could hear—in a language not of words but actions—those three words.

"I love you!"

Claire struggled to withstand the onslaught. Her arms reached out to grasp Alan's head, and she began to caress his cheeks. From these actions, he received her heartfelt response.

"I love you too!"