“Stop freaking out, Jacinda.”
“For the last time,” I growl, “I am NOT freaking out. And if I was freaking out, telling me to stop freaking out would make me freak out more!”
“Okay, well, do you think you could at least remove your claws?”
I look down at my paw, which is hanging on to Chris’ wrist so tight that my claws are leaving marks, and his hand is turning purple. I really need to stop doing that…
We both report our attention to my laptop’s screen. The both of us are seated at a table in one of the campus’ study rooms. I refresh the page once again, but the results are still displayed as “pending”. A grunt of frustration erupts from the depth of my throat. What the fuck is taking so long?! I grab my boyfriend’s milkshake and take a big gulp through the straw, hoping the sugar will grant me patience.
Wait, what the… Something feels very wrong as the liquid pours over my taste buds. A few drops spill between my lips as I gag on it.
“What is that? That’s not chocolate.”
“That… is mine,” Chris sighs. “Was mine. But that’s fine, I guess.”
“Right, sorry. But seriously, what is that thing? It tastes… wrong!”
“It’s a bubble tea milkshake.”
Oh Gods. The very idea makes me want to hurl. Or maybe it’s the stress? No, it’s definitely the notion that somebody was wicked enough to mix all the goodness that is a milkshake with the crime against sentience that is bubble tea in order to create such an unnatural, foul-tasting abomination.
“Well, you can have it,” I say, dropping it back in his hand.
“Really? I can?” he snarks. “I can have the milkshake I paid for? Thank you, furball.”
I jab a claw into his side.
“Hey, hey, careful! You already cost me one of my jerseys.”
“What? I thought it was just the seams that came undone around the shoulders.”
“I don’t mean the one you keep stealing from me because you get chilly everytime the temperature drops below seventy. I mean the one you destroyed. Remember? Six Flags?”
Aaah, right. Six Flags. I don’t try to hide the darkness coloring my cheeks or the large smile adorning my lips as I recall that fun day. What happened was, I invited Chris to the park for his twentieth birthday, and insisted on paying for both the tickets and lunch. Predictably, he got pissy about not wanting my “charity”, and argued that he should at least pay for the food. I reminded him that, even though Toulouse’s had given him another raise, he was still a broke college student. The debate got heated, and one thing led to another, and soon we were locked up in a changing room to settle our argument.
Given that it was his birthday, and how crazy horny I was, we seized that opportunity to… well… try something new. Without going into details, let’s just say I wanted to have another of my firsts with Chris. It was actually a first for him too.
Anyway, this particular experiment turned out to be even better than I thought, turning me on to the point where I got… err… clawy. The walls of that particular changing room will forever bear memories of my presence, as will Chris’ jersey -what’s left of it.
He pinches my ass, making me straighten up in surprise. My chair creaks.
“That being said,” he says, “I wouldn’t mind sacrificing another jersey for such a noble endeavor.”
“Oh, I bet,” I say, bumping my butt against his. “Hell, I bet I could make you burn down your entire wardrobe and come to class naked for the entire next semester if I let you-AUGH! Come on, is this a joke?!?”
I’ve just refreshed the page, for like the hundredth time in ten minutes. This time, the page has changed. But instead of displaying the results, it shows a message: “Due to excess traffic, the website is undergoing some technical issues. Our technicians are currently working on bringing service back. Thank you for your patience.”
“There’s got to be hundreds, if not thousands of people checking the website right now,” Chris says in a conciliatory tone.
““Our technicians” my ass,” I seethe. “Everybody knows they use some basic, shitty AI to handle their website.”
“It’s probably just going to be a few minutes.”
A few minutes! I can’t wait anymore. I barely even slept last night. Chris places his hands over my shoulders and begins massaging them. It’s not nearly enough to assuage my tension, but I appreciate the gesture.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about, Jacinda,” he says, kissing my ear. “You aced that exam, You know you did.”
“You aced that exam,” I retort. “I almost had a nervous breakdown doing it.”
“It’s going to be fine. I promise you.”
Oh Gods, I hope he’s right. I don’t even want to think about what would happen if I didn’t get a passing grade. That thing was worth a big percentage of my final grade. Would I still have enough to validate my semester? And if I don’t, can I retake the exam? Or do I have to retake the entire fucking semester? Damn, I hope not. I don’t think I’ll have the courage.
Chris starts working my shoulders harder, meaning he’s sensed that I just got more stressed. I need to stop overthinking. Or maybe I should think more…? I mean, if I did flunk that exam, do I have to-
“It’s fine, Jacinda,” my man repeats, putting his hand over my paw and delicately raising it before my claws can leave nasty scratch marks on the table.
“What if it’s not?” I say, sounding unbearably whiny.
“It is,” he insists. “But even if it’s not, it won’t be the end of the world. Okay?”
My quivering index claw looms over the keyboard, as I am torn: to refresh or not to refresh? I can’t stand not knowing, but I’m not sure I can bear knowing. Argh, fuck this! I slam the key.
“Holy fucking shit.”
I jump about three feet in the air, and throw my paws in the air. A victorious howl resonates throughout the -thankfully empty- room, and the windows shake in awe.
One. Goddamn. Hundred. Mother. Fucking. Percent. BITCH!
UP YOURS, MATHEMATICS! I RULE!
As I get back down, I bear-hug Chris and kiss the shit out of him. He doesn’t even stiffen in surprise; after months of this kind of treatment, it barely even fazes him anymore. Well, there’s still a part of his body that stiffens, the same part he assures me will never grow tired of anything I do.
“I told you,” he says as I let him breathe for a second.
“One hundred percent!” I squeal.
I kiss him again and again, until his lips are swollen and he’s panting. We peer into each other’s eyes, and I immediately know he’s read my mind: let’s celebrate -now. I don’t wait for him to take the initiative, I all but carry him to the nearest bathroom -I think this one’s unisex, but I’m too engrossed in my boyfriend to really pay attention.
The door slams behind us, propelled by my foot. Chris absent-mindedly locks it, his other hand already way up in my shirt. Not that I’m complaining, but that boy is seriously obsessed with my boobs. I grab his trousers’ zipper and pull it down, hard enough that I feel the little metal thing twist between my claws. Chris unhooks my bra at the front, then gets my crop top out of the way. It takes me a few tries with how much my paw shakes, but I manage to get rid of his underwear without destroying it, freeing his erect dick. My pants fall down to the floor, followed by my panties. Before Chris can react to the sight of my pussy, I push him, and he falls back on the toilet. I sit on him and make out with him some more.
“You have no idea what it does to me when I see you wearing my jersey with nothing else under it,” Chris says.
I peek down at my girls, who are indeed looking damn fine. The open jersey gives my boyfriend a good look, while hiding the nipples. Just the right amount of boob to draw him in.
“I think I have some idea,” I say, grabbing his iron-hard cock. Call me a weirdo, but sensing his heartbeat through his erection is to me one of the finest pleasures in life.
“That? If anything, that’s an underreaction.”
“Then let’s make you react properly.”
I shove his face between my tits so he can have his fun, then direct his dick to my already drenched pussy to take care of my fun. No rush, though: I start by simply running my snatch along his length, his tip bumping into my clit. He groans with delight, his teeth tightening around my nipple and his hand massaging my other tit. I slide again, and again, my hips moving back and forth in a slow, enthralling dance. It’s not long before the underneath of his dick is coated in my juices… and before he gets impatient.
“Come on, this is supposed to be a quickie,” he says. “Put it in already.”
“This is my celebration,” I retort. “I’ll set the pace. Now shut up before I decide to turn this quickie into an eternitie.”
Hearing him grumble makes me chuckle. Getting frustrated, hun? Here, let me slide your boner along my wet, hot puss once more. Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it. I know you do. Sure, you’re not going to cum anytime soon, but oh well. Slide, slide, slide… His heart is beating faster, his breath becomes heavier. He tries to grab my tail, to incentivize me to move this party along. But this time, I don’t let him.
No, Chris. This time, you’re my bitch. But be a good boy and I might let you dominate me again.
I start gyrating my hips, drawing a lemniscate over his cock. Fitting since, not only are we celebrating my math exam, he’s gonna be here forever. I curb down my tail, until the soft, fluffy tip pokes his balls. He buckles against me, grunting in protest.
“I’m not begging this time,” he murmurs.
I let out a throaty laugh, and ruffle his hair. Yes you are, Chris, yes you are.
After another tickle, he buckles again with desperate strength, trying to throw me off him, but he barely moves me an inch. His hands don’t make it halfway to my tail before getting caught under my arms. I grab his hair and twist his head slightly to the left.
“A wild horse, uh?” I say in his ear. “Guess I have to break you…”
My tongue licks the side of his neck, from just above the collarbone all the way to the ear. Yes, Chris. Struggle some more. Resist as much as you can. It’s not fun if you just let me have my way with you. And meanwhile, with every move of my hips and every roll of my tongue, I break your defenses some more.
… Okay, maybe don’t resist that much. I’m getting really antsy too, over here.
Come on, just beg nicely so we can get to the fun part. Not that this isn’t fun, but… Ah, just beg already!
Ah, fuck it. I can’t wait anymore, but I’m not giving up. Time for plan B. I suddenly stand up, and mash my pussy in his face so I can get some release. A shudder goes through my body when his lips meet my labia.
“Tongue,” I growl, because I’ve once again gotten aroused to the point where me brain feral no can full sentence.
His mouth organ darts out, engulfing itself in my aching folds. Usually, he prefers to enter me slower, so as to savor my taste -and also to tease. Guess I’m not the only one at the end of my patience. Good. He begins lapping me like a thirsty dog, wanton and eager. I bite my lower lip, my body stiffening in pleasure. His technique has gotten much better; practice truly does make perfect. I angle my pussy so that the tip of his tongue reaches my G-spot while the base rubs my clit at the same time. My boyfriend’s skills have turned me into a glutton.
It’s actually been like that for a while now. Losing my virginity was like a dam bursting. Ever since my first time, my sexual drive has increased a hundredfold, to the point where it’s more like a sexual overdrive. In the beginning, I managed to get by with about half a dozen times a week, but it quickly got to the point where I can’t go half a day without sexing up my boyfriend. And now, it somehow got even worse/better. Seriously, there are times when just being in contact with, or even in near proximity to, Chris is sufficient to set me on fire.
I asked my Mom for advice -after a lot of consideration, and not without feeling super embarrassed about the whole thing. At the time, I was beginning to think something might genuinely be wrong with me. My mother’s answer was: “That’s love, honey bunny. Welcome to being a Hellhound”. Guess that makes sense.
Again, I’m not complaining. Being horny for the man you love feels great, being that way almost 24/7 feels even greater, and Chris is very good at boning down -and getting better, as I mentioned. Same goes for me, according to him.
I mean, there’s been one drawback. Same one as before: lack of opportunity, borne out of lack of proper location. And the Gods know we have been very imaginative when it comes to locations for fucking. Every single bathroom we’ve found on campus, for starters -the ones with actual doors, not the stalls, we’re not animals. One of the library study rooms, which we’ve booked first of course. I wanted to find out if the risk of getting caught would up the thrill, and, well, I wasn’t disappointed. I mean, Chris had locked the door beforehand, but I didn’t know, so it still worked. Oh, and we made sure to clean up every surface afterward. Like I said, we’re not animals.
A couple of cleaning closets have witnessed our frolicking as well. Well, “frolicking” doesn’t really do it justice, it makes it sound too restrained and gentle. Let’s say “wall-banging, shelves-shaking nookie” instead. If I were to leave those closets a review, I’d say they’re not exactly comfortable, but they’ll do in a pinch. Three stars out of five, would probably bone again but only if I’m super backed up and there are no better places available. They’re the Applebee’s of fuck-locations, is what I’m saying.
Let’s see, where else… Oh yeah, I blew Chris behind a tree in a park, once. What happened was, I pissed him off about something, so he forced me down on my knees and shut me up the best way he knew. Joke’s on him: that just made me want to piss him off more.
We did it in my car, of course. Multiple times, in fact. Mostly in the back, but sometimes also in the passenger seat, and once in the trunk. Well, I was just bending over inside the trunk, with my legs hanging out, but that counts. It was as uncomfortable as you’d think, but it wasn’t my idea. Once again, I had pissed off Chris, and he took it out on me. And once again, that did not deter me from pissing him off.
Oh, and once, we did it in an empty classroom. This time, Chris had pissed me off, so I wrestled him down on the floor and sat on his face for, like, an hour or so. Hah. He definitely learned not to throw my keyring-bracelet and say “fetch!” again. Definitely.
But the reason we keep trying new places is not curiosity -or rather: not just curiosity-, but rather that we can’t find one reliable place where we can fuck with some regularity. It’s annoying, but manageable. So far at least. But if the trend continues, we-
Oh. Oooh, yes. Deeper. Yes, yes, move that tongue sideways. I said move it, boytoy! Haaa… Fuuuck!
I tighten my grip on my boyfriend’s hair and pull him closer. He grunts as his nose gets squished against my pubis, but I don’t let go. For one thing, because I’m seconds away from cuming. For another thing, because we have long since established that a little pain does not mar our pleasure.
Ah, fuck, here I go again. Still stradling my boyfriend’s face, I quiver like a one-woman earthquake and howl. I then lean back against the wall, my breath leaving me in a “oooof”.
“Holy Niagara, Batman,” Chris says, licking his lips. “You may want to down a couple of pints of water after that, to stay hydrated.”
“There’s more where that came from. Speaking of…” With my index claw, I gesture for him to get off his ass, because we’re not done here.
He stands up, his pants still around his ankles, and ensnares my waist with his arms before kissing me. Is it weird that I like tasting myself on his lips? I mean, it’s not the actual taste, which I still find kinda bland, more the fact that it’s on him. Kind of a possessive thing, I guess.
Chris gently rubs the small of my back and my butt. I break the kiss to nibble on his neck until he gets a hickey; I make sure to do so in a place that his collar can’t hide. At first, I use my fangs just hard enough to elicit labored moans from him, but then, I chomp just a smidge harder. He yelps, and pins me against the wall.
“Guess it’s my turn to break you,” he spits out.
“Good luck with that!” I say, smirking.
He grabs me by the shoulder and “forces” me to face the wall. My tail reflexively goes up, and I wave it before him, taunting him, teasing him. Come on, big boy. You know you want to. And, like the properly domesticated boyfriend he is, he wraps his hand around the birth of my tail, and rubs it roughly. I lean forward, and back my butt until it not-so-gently bumps into his boner. Our gazes meet above my shoulder, and I smirk again. I’m waitiiiiing…
Not for long I’m not. With one powerful stroke, he’s inside me again. Fuck, I’ll never get tired of that feeling. To be thoroughly filled by my man… Like a reflex, he starts thrusting into me. I immediately arch my back and buck my heeps to meet his thrusts. But as his cock comes in and out of me, I get the feeling that something’s off.
“Something -huh!- got you frustrated -ah!-, sweetie?” I ask.
“Not. Frustrated,” he grunts, punctuating each word with a thrust.
“I, hmm, I smell adrenaline -oh yes- all over you. By the w-way, I wouldn’t -fuck!- mind if you’d give me maaah!… my usual.”
“Right, my bad.” His hand stings my ass with a clapping sound. Aaah, much better.
From the way he’s thrusting into me, I realize that his issue is indeed not frustration. And yes, our relationship has grown to the point where I can sense his emotional state from the way he bones me. It’s the cadence, mostly.
No, it’s not frustration -I mean, what does he have to be frustrated about, dating me? It’s more like… anxiety? Hmm, no. Anticipation? Yes, that’s it. My man is anticipating something. He’s fucking me the same way he did before that big game.
By the way, whoever came up with that stupid “never before the big game” rule was an idiot. That was one of our best times. Definitely top five. He totally ruled that game, too. Gods, and it was such a turn-on to see him win. We nearly destroyed that bench in the locker room after the game.
But, seriously, his mind seems to be elsewhere today. He’s barely called me any names while fucking me. What is he thinking about?
“Hey!” I call out. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh? Nothing’s wrong.”
“Well, focus, then. I feel like I’m being fucked by a zombie.”
“How many zombies have you been fucked by?” he retorts.
“So far, one. Should I have brought one of my toys to help you along?”
My taunt achieves the desired effect. Incensed, my man flips me over again, grabs me by the throat, and finally starts fucking me in earnest. I lift one of my legs and wrap it around his hips, while my paws hold on to his shoulders. Aaah, at last my pussy is getting the pounding she deserves. Damn, and he bites, too! He chomps down on my bottom lip until I moan, then pulls on my hair so he can get to my neck too.
“Yeah!” I howl. “Give it to me!”
“Take it, bitch!” he grunts, slamming into me. His hands grab my ass, hard enough to make me feel it.
“Fuck! Oh, fuck meeee… Yes!”
The orgasm storms through me, making me lose my balance. I keep from falling by tightening my hold on Chris, who winces from the added weight. From his breathing and his pulse, I can tell he’s very close too.
“Inside,” I whisper in his ear.
Oh Gods, that’s another thing I won’t soon tire of: feeling the stream of his lust filling me. When he’s finished, I release him, and he sits back down on the toilet. He grabs about a dozen squares of toilet paper and hands me half of them. We clean ourselves quietly for a minute and put our clothes back on.
“So what’s up your butt?” I ask as I pull up my panties.
“Let me catch my breath first.”
His chest expands as he takes a lungful of air, then another. He wipes his brow with his sleeve, then suddenly stands up once more and makes for the exit. I bar his way with my leg.
“Hey, hey. Where are you going?”
“To wash my hands.”
“Answer my question first.”
Chris sighs, rolling his eyes. “Not exactly the best scenery for this announcement, but fine,” he says. “So, my mom finally found a place of her own.”
“Yeah, Mom told me. Only took a little over a year, which is nothing short of a miracle around here.”
“Right. Meanwhile, things have gotten crappier with my roommate.”
“Is he still sneaking booze in your room?” I ask.
“And getting drunk of it every other night, yeah.” Chris shakes his head. “Except now, he’s switched to vodka. Apparently, vodka makes him a noisy drunk.”
“The RA still doesn’t give a shit?”
“Apparently, he can’t do anything without proof, and Connor is at least smart enough to hide the evidence. I tried going over his head, but it didn’t achieve much either. Ultimately, I’ve put in for a room change, but they told me it’s gonna take a while.”
“I’m really sorry,” I say. “But, hey, since our guest room is available now, you can crash there anytime you want.”
“I appreciate the offer, and I might take it, but I had another idea.”
I finish cleaning up my puss, and throw the used paper down the toilet. Chris throws his, then flushes. After using the sink, we make our way out. A couple of students watch us leave the bathroom together, and it’s pretty clear from their expression that they know we weren’t playing phone games in there. One of them -a male Minotaur- gives Chris a discreet thumb up. That kind of thing happens from time to time, and it bothers me. I mean, not the compliment itself; I know I’m a catch. It’s just… Why don’t I ever get a thumb up? Chris is one hell of a pull too.
Bah, whatever. I’m meeting with Judith later; she’ll congratulate me.
“So what’s this other idea?” I say as we leave the building.
“I was thinking of getting a place of my own,” Chris says.
“Around here? That won’t be cheap.”
“I know, but, uh… I was thinking of getting a roommate there too.”
My eyes shoot wide open. “What are you saying?”
We push past the exit door, and are greeted by the spring wind and the floral, earthly scents it carries. Chris turns to me and cups my cheek. He’s smelling of anticipation again. I must be too.
“Look, I know we’ve only been dating for over a year, and it’s kinda crazy, but… then again, we are kind of crazy. So…”
“Do you want to move in with me?” I abruptly say.
He chuckles. “Actually, I want you to move in with me, but… Yeah, sure, what the hell.”
“Oh my Gods!”
I jump in his arms, giddy like a schoolgirl, and pepper kisses all over his face.
“Okay, okay,” he says, cowering a little under my love assaults. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, though. I don’t actually have my own place yet, and it could be a long while before I do. I mean, your uncle Gordie says he knows some people, but…”
“I don’t care!” I scream happily. “We’re moving in together. Oh my Gods, I’m going to fuck you to sleep every night!”
That declaration of intent earns me a bemused/shocked glance from a female Kobold teacher passing by.
“Not gonna lie,” Chris says, “that factored in my decision to make you that offer.”
He gets more kisses, because I’m on a roll.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you too,” I say. “Wait. You’re not about to have another syrupy sweet speech like in Six Flags, are you?”
Ah, another nice memory we’ve made in that place. Some time after lunch -and after we had some more fun-, he seemingly got worried he might have gone overboard with our D/s thing, namely the parts where he called me his bitch and said he was going to domesticate me. He went on a mini-speech about how he truly loved me, how I was the greatest, sexiest, smartest, strongest creature on Earth.
Well, I’m paraphrasing a little, but the idea’s there. It was lovely; the fact that my ass was still sore from earlier didn’t even undercut how romantic it was. After he was done, I tenderly held his head, told him I felt the same way about him, that I knew he didn’t really mean it when he called me names during our trysts… then informed him he had better be rougher next time, because this wasn’t grade school anymore.
“No speech, brat,” he says, pinching my ass -which I barely feel through my jeans. “Just making sure I tell you that enough.”
“You do,” I say. “But more is never a bad thing.”
I’m floating on clouds the entire rest of the day, even after my classes are over and as I head to my last destination: the Departments of Integrative Biology & Cell Biology, to make an appointment with a faculty advisor. The time has come for another important step. Yeah, I know I can make appointments online, but I’m trying to be symbolic here. My confidence holds until I meet with the elderly woman in charge of bookings, at which point I get a little shaky. The fact that my boyfriend is by my side and that the aforementioned woman looks like a sweet old grandma helps, though.
“I would like to book an appointment to declare my major,” I say.
The woman opines, takes my information, then finds me an available slot.
“Very well,” she says after staring off in her smart glasses for a few minutes. “I have put you with professor Lim, Wednesday at twenty past eleven.”
I thank her and leave.
“Holy shit, this is it,” I say as we head back to my car. “I’m going to pick my major.”
“Congrats, honey,” Chris says, slapping my butt.
“Holy shit,” I repeat.
It’s almost hard to believe. After months and months of dithering, I finally did it. I picked a major, and made the call. I feel so decisive right now. I’m gonna be a veterinarian! No, a zoologist. Or maybe some kind of researcher? No, no, I don’t want to spend my life in a lab. But maybe I could do some field study? That could be very cool, traveling the world to study all kinds of critters. Or, wait, I read an article some time ago, about veterinarian psychology. That sounded really…
Err… Well, baby steps.
As we get into the car, I try to focus on my future bunking-and-boinking situation with Chris in an effort to not stress too much about my upcoming appointment, unfortunately my brain has put itself in overthinking mode and I can’t find the off switch. Shouldn’t I know what I want to do later? I mean, the advisor is bound to ask me about that. Maybe I should tell her I’m not sure yet. Or maybe I should lie and tell her I’ve got it all figured out. Ha! Yeah, right. Like I’m that good at bluffing.
Fuck. Can the advisor deny my major? No, I don’t think they can. So long as I have the requirements, they can’t say no, right? And I do have them. I mean, I’m fairly sure I do. No, no, I do. I checked the list of requirements like a thousand times. For fuck’s sake, Jacinda, get it together. You always do this. Whenever you have every reason to be happy, you start making up reasons to get anxious. Just… don’t get anxious! Okay?
As my brain wages war against itself, Chris suddenly leans down on me, and unbutton my pants. I notice he’s put my car on self-drive; I registered his iris in my onboard computer a few weeks ago, in case he needs to use it.
“What’s going on?” I ask as I feel his breath on my bare lower stomach.
“What’s going on is you’re freaking out again,” he says, making me raise my hips so he can slide my pants down, before kissing the bare skin just above the hem of my panties.
Right. Thankfully, I have a cure at hand. And a very effective one, at that. It keeps me stress-free until we make it to my home, and for forty-eight hours after that -although it has to be applied several times. It is at peace -and a little disheveled- that I appear before professor Lim later that week. Arlene Marilou Lim (I looked her up on the university website beforehand) is an Owl woman in her late thirties, rather overweight, who strongly smells of freshly burned incense. Light brown feathers cover most of her skin up to the top of her head where they mix with fluff. She’s sitting in that strange cross-legged way many bird people favor because of the unique shape of their legs. The desk in front of her is cluttered with all sorts of oddities: fossils, various stones and rocks, hand drawings, and something that looks like a very old egg.
“Good morning, Miss Abercromby. Please sit down,” she says. Her voice is surprisingly high-pitched.
I drop down in one of the rigid chairs she offered, mentally reviewing the speech I prepared.
“So, I understand you’ve chosen your major.”
“Yes, ma’am. I want to be an Integrative Biology major.” Did I put enough gusto in my voice?
“An excellent choice.” She nods.
A holographic keyboard and screen appear in front of her, responding to her brain implant’s command, and she starts punching keys for some time. She doesn’t say anything for a while, which kicks my nervosity up a notch.
“I really like animals,” I blurt.
“Err, okay?” Lim raises a fluffy eyebrow.
“I don’t mean that I just like pets, or that I only like animals because they’re cute and fuzzy. It’s not… I’m not like that. I really, really like animals. I love learning about them, even the less savory stuff. I mean, I prefer mammals, but I also love learning about birds, bugs, fish… I’ve read books and manuals on ichthyology and entomology.”
“Well, that’s-” the professor says, seemingly a little stunned. I don’t blame her. Double-you tee eff, Jacinda? This is not the speech we prepared. Hell, that’s not even a speech, you’re just vomiting words.
“What I’m trying to say is, this isn’t just a phase, or a hobby. I genuinely love everything about biology. Well, maybe not everything. Microbiology is fine, but I don’t think I’ll make that my career. Also, genetics I can coast, but it’s not my cup of tea. But I’ll work hard at those too! And, and, all the rest I’ll work doubly hard.”
I finally manage to stop talking, and the room gets very quiet.
Well! This is deeply embarrassing.
Professor Lim blinks, then says:
“All I needed to know was whether you’ve completed the necessary classes to qualify for this major.” She glances at her holographic screen. “And you have. Congratulations on graduating chemistry early, by the way.”
“Ah, err, yeah,” I mutter, blood rushing to my cheeks. “I, I took some classes back in high school so I could, uh, well…”
“You’ve also enrolled in Integrative Humanoid Biology.”
“Right. I’m not much for Humanoid biology, but it’s a requirement, so… Which, err, which makes sense, because Humanoids are animals.”
Seriously, I need to shut up. My inner dork is showing.
“I just- I love biology,” I conclude, my voice croaking embarrassingly.
“Well, that much is obvious,” Lim says with a kind smile. “Now, have you given some thought as to your emphasis?”
“Err, oh yeah. I was thinking Ecology, Evolution, and Organismal Biology.”
“That makes sense from what you’ve told me. Have you looked into the cursus?”
“A little.” Inside and out over the course of the last few weeks. I may also have low-key harassed other bio majors into letting me look at their notes to get an idea of what the classes were like.
“That’s good. And you are aware of the general guidelines?”
I refrain from reciting them and just answer: “Yes.”
The professor nods again, then gives me a quick speech about the four-year plan for my particular emphasis, the learning goals, and the teachers I’m likely to have. It’s nothing I don’t already know, but I force myself to listen attentively.
“Is professor Gibbons still teaching the animal behavior course?” I ask as she pauses to take a sip from a Thermos bottle she took out of her desk.
“The Ecology and Evolution of Animal Behavior course? Technically yes, but she’s announced her retirement at the end of this year. And, unfortunately, this Summer session is already booked full.”
The corners of my mouth drop along with my ears. Camille Laureen Gibbons is one of the reasons I applied to Berkeley, and one of the reasons why I’m seeking to make Integrative Biology my major. In fact, she’s one of the reasons I’m so interested in zoology in the first place. Camille Gibbons is a biology rockstar. A Berkeley alumni (summa cum laude, natch), she’s published a lot of influential papers on various subjects such as animal psychology and the evolutionary biology of reptilians in Central America, wrote seven books -all of which I’ve read from cover to cover-, and even starred in a few documentaries. She was actually nominated for a Nobel prize about seven years ago, but ultimately didn’t get it -total gimp.
I guess it’s no surprise that her class is full. Still, though…
Full disclosure, I may or may not have had this whole mental film where I would sit at many of her lectures. Said film may or may not have involved me eventually getting noticed by her and becoming her TA, and later even joining her on some field research in some remote jungle somewhere. Might as well dream big, right?
“I can put you on the waiting list,” Lim says.
“Yeah, okay,” I say, trying to sound enthusiastic.
“Maybe someone in the class will drop out,” she says encouragingly. “It happens every year, especially in the early classes.”
Yeah… Or maybe someone in the class will mysteriously disappear. I’m sure Nova would help me dispose of a body. And I bet Judith knows someone back in her home state who owns a pig farm. Chris might help too, although probably not without rolling his eyes and shaking his head at me. And counting it as a favor, of course.
What? Just keeping my options open, is all.
“Okay, you’re all set,” the professor says a few minutes later. “Congratulations, and welcome to our department! I hope you enjoy your time here.”
“Thanks! I’m sure I will.”
Well, overall, this went better than expected. Even my nervousness didn’t manage to fuck this up. I call my boyfriend on my way out.
“Hey, Chris! Guess what?”
“You got your major.”
“YES!” My scream scares away a couple of birds resting in a nearby tree. “We need to celebrate me again. Where are you right now?”
“Working at Toulouse’s until noon.”
“Perfect, we haven’t done it at your workplace yet. Have you taken your break already?”
He chuckles lightly. “I’m actually on my break right now, which is why I picked up the phone.”
“Damn. How long do you have left?”
“Let’s just say that even if you teleport here right now, it won’t be a quickie so much as an instantie.”
I tut. “Meh, nevermind. How about over lunch?”
“I’m hanging out with Manny. Wanna come with? Highlights will include fatty kebabs with too much sauce, and listening to Manny talk about how student-teacher relationships are the hottest thing ever.”
“Is he still shtupping his Philosophy teacher?”
“She’s not his teacher anymore. But yes.”
“Still pretty dicey,” I say.
“Yeah, he doesn’t care.”
“Well, that sounds fun. I’ll see if Nova can join us too.”
I quickly text her. Nine minutes later, I get an answer:
Nova: Can’t make it, I’m leaving town soon. I gotta go see about a girl.
Jacinda: Was that a reference to something? Gods, I swear you’re worse than Uncle Gordie.
Nova: It was. In layman’s terms, I have to do something stupid and romantic in order to get the girl.
I stare at her last text for some time. Something has been going on in Nova’s life over the course of the past year. I don’t know what exactly, as Nova has been very reluctant to talk about it, and I have elected to respect privacy. All I know is that it involves Viviana somehow. From what little I gathered, mostly from Manny, the two lovebirds have gone through some kind of bad breakup.
Whatever it was, Nova’s been brooding over it for a while now. It’s been some pretty discrete brooding, and mostly confined to her bedroom, but it was still sad to witness. This would have been the perfect opportunity for me to repay her for all the relationship advice she gave me, but given the fact that I knew jack about her situation, and that she didn’t ask for it in the first place, I kept quiet, and merely offered her a shoulder to mope on -an offer which she didn’t take me up on.
But now, it seems she’s decided to get things moving. Good for her.
Jacinda: I have no idea what that’s going to involve, and not gonna lie I’m suspecting the worst, but I wish you good luck, sis.
Nova: Thanks, but you don’t need to worry. If all goes to plan, nothing I’ll do will rise above the level of a misdemeanor.
Jacinda: Not exactly reassuring, but okay. See you soon.
Nova: Probably not. I’ll be off for all of spring break.
Jacinda: Going on vacation somewhere?
Nova: Don’t ask. Plausible deniability, sis.
Yeah, that’s not suspicious or anything. I really hope everything works out for her. As to me, it looks like I’m having college drama as a side with my lunch today.
On my way to the kebab place, I exchange a little with Judith via text. She once again offers to switch partners on our next double date, and I once again shoot her down. I don’t mind her being open minded, and there’s nothing wrong with trying new things, but I’ll never allow any bitches to so much as touch my boyfriend; not even if said bitch is my BFF. At least she’s not trying get it on with me anymore, like she did three times after I told her I was a Hellhound (apparently, even though she’s straight, “college is a time for experiments”). She texts back to offer me a “compromise” in the form of a foursome. I roll my eyes until I get vertigo, then simply text back “no”.
Christopher and Manny are engaged in a lively conversation when I join them, in the waiting line at Kabylia Kebabs.
“Seriously, she could have gotten fired for this,” Chris says, shaking his head.
“But I wasn’t in her class anymore the first time we actually did it!” Manny says.
“Technically, you were!” my boyfriend retorts. “You were still enrolled.”
“Yeah, but, like, the actual classes were over.”
“Couldn’t you have at least waited for the session to be officially done? It was just a couple weeks.”
“No way, bro,” Manny says. “Love can’t wait.”
“Love? Are you serious?” Chris says, his jaw going slack.
“Hell yeah, I am! Dude, you don’t get it: she can take both of my balls in her mouth at the same time!”
I was about to greet my boyfriend by stealthily grabbing his ass and smooching him when that last sentence hit me. An unbecoming, uncontrolled laughter escapes my mouth, ruining the surprise.
“Good, you’re here,” Chris says. “Please help me reason with this idiot.”
“Oh, I can’t,” I say, snort-laughing. “Indeed, what can reason do in the face of true love?”
My boyfriend throws his hands in the air with a weary sigh. Manny joins me in laughter and fist-bump me.
We order our food (classic kebab for Chris, royal kebab for Manny, two royals kebabs and two maxi kebabs with extra meat for me), and wait for it to be made. Manny goes on a monologue about Chausiku -the aforementioned Philosophy teacher- and how she’s the best thing that ever happened to him, hell, the best thing that ever happened to any student ever. I can’t help but notice that most of her alleged qualities pertain to how good she is in the sack.
“Dude, you would not believe how good she looks in leather. She’s got the perfect skin for it. Also, did you know they make leather lingerie? Holy shit, bro! And they make vegan leather that looks and feels exactly like the real thing. Yeah, Chausiku’s vegan, but that’s okay, I’m willing to overlook that. She’s definitely getting enough protein, anyway!”
And with that, he raises his hand for a high five.
“I really regret ordering my kebab with white sauce all of a sudden,” Chris says, his gaze distant.
Left hanging, his friend turns to me with an expectant smile.
“Yeah, no, sorry buddy,” I say.
His smile fades, and he drops this gem: “You guys are such prudes.”
That gets me laughing again, and earns Manny an expression of mock pity, courtesy of his best friend. My boyfriend and I share a look, and we both smirk. Let’s show him “prude”.
“Oh, that reminds me!” I exclaim. “I know how I’m going to use that favor you owe me from that time with the ice cream.”
Aaaah, the ice cream experiment. Another fond memory I and Chris crafted the last time we found an available bed and had some free time on our hands. The short version is, Chris wanted to see if my body temperature was high enough when aroused to sublimate ice cream poured all over my skin. It wasn’t, so he had to lick me clean instead. The cold had made my nerves a lot more sensitive… Hmmm. That experiment was such a failure. Such a shame, really.
I still counted that as a favor because I had to wash up afterwards, and I smelled of chocolate for a couple of days after. Again.
“Do tell,” Chris says.
“I want an orgasm,” I say.
“That’s it? We can do it right now, if you want. Like an appetizer or something.”
“No, no. I don’t want just any old orgasm. I want a special kind of orgasm, one we haven’t tried so far.”
“Is there one?” he asks, lifting his left eyebrow.
Manny’s eyes glance alternatively at me and Chris. He doesn’t look like he’s rethinking his life choices yet, so let’s carry on.
“There just might be. It’s an idea I got from Judith.”
“Oh?” There’s an understandable hint of apprehension in his gaze. I’m quick to reassure him:
“Apparently, it’s possible to get an orgasm from a foot massage.”
“Really?” Chris says. “I thought that was just some kind of porn myth.”
“I admit I’m on the fence myself. But…”
“You’re dying to find out.”
“Hm-mm. We’ll be doing this for research.”
“You are a bioscience major after all,” he points out. “So, when are we doing this?”
“Instead of date night, then?”
“No, during date night. But it’ll be a special kind of date, this time.”
“How special?” Chris asks, leaning toward me.
“Special as in I’ll be having a bubble bath, and you’ll be tending to me while I’m soaking.”
“Meaning I’ll be at your beck and call while I’m also rubbing your foot.”
“Feet,” I correct. “And you had better work them hard. I’ve got some very thick skin down there.”
“Okay, I think I-” Manny mutters, but too late.
“Granted,” Chris says. “Assuming your feet are clean first.”
“Oh, they will be, because you’ll be washing me before the massage. That’s part of the favor.”
He nods. “And what if that feet orgasm thing is just a myth after all? Gonna be honest, it sounds like one.”
I push a bent finger under my chin.
“Hmmm. Let’s make it a gamble, then. You promise to try your hardest at making me cum by rubbing my feet, and if it’s only a myth, you get to have me any way you want.”
“And if it’s real, you get to have me any way you want?”
I nod sharply, my tongue rolling over my upper lip.
“Guys, you’ve made your-” Manny tries again.
“Careful there, furball,” Chris says. “I have some very creative ideas. And by “creative”, I mean “degrading”.”
“It’s cute when you think you can measure up,” I say, chuckling condescendingly. “If I win, I’m not just going to make you beg this time, I’m going to make you cry.”
“All right!” Manny says. “I’m sorry I said you were-”
“Cry with laughter, maybe,” Chris says. “Unless you mean you’re gonna bore me to tears.”
“Oh, I definitely see you laughing once I finally break you. You’re gonna go crazy for me, Harley Quinn style.”
Manny is thankfully saved by the bell, or more exactly by the buzzer indicating that our orders are ready to be picked up.
Friday rolls by, and Chris gets invited to stay the weekend at my house. Mom had precisely zero illusions as to why I want him to spend the night, but between my top-notch grades and my promise to keep it quiet, she eventually agreed. Much harder was negotiating to have the bathroom all to ourselves for an hour. I had to agree to a whole bunch of extra chores to do over the weekend in order to seal that deal.
Chris insists on drawing me a bath, and all but demands that I stay in my bedroom until he calls me. When he does, about twenty minutes later, I let out a gasp as I come into the bathroom.
Lit candles ornate almost every ceramic surface, lighting the room in an yellow-orange hue. The bubble bath is covered in foam, which looks to be about three inches thick. And just because my boyfriend just had to go the whole nine yards, there are blue petals -I’d say they’re from lilacs, by the smell- surrounding the tub and covering its edges.
“Oh my gods ! Why?” I ask, excitedly. Yeah, kind of a stupid question, but I’m a bit emotional.
He shrugs. “Why not? It’s date night.”
Chris gestures to the bath, bowing a little like I’m nobility and he’s my servant. Gods, I love that dork. I get naked in the blink of an eye, and enter my bubbly bath. The temperature is just right. I let the liquid warmth engulf me until I’m neck deep, then rest my head back down. I glance at Chris with one eye open, and say:
“You know, your clothes could get wet.”
He smirks, and takes off his top. As always, I take my time to stare at his muscly chest. He’s got so many tattoos, now. There’s still some room left, but it definitely feels like I’m doing it with a samurai when we fuck. Which may or may not be another old wet dream of mine.
I soak for a little while, enjoying that moment when my mind goes blank from the pleasure. Usually, I need Chris to pound my pussy or spank my ass raw to get there. Every inch of my skin relaxes under the hot water’s wonderfully soothing action, while my muscles turn into jelly. Chris plunges his hands in the water, and begins rubbing every inch of my skin, insisting on the furry parts… and the bouncy parts. I kindly remind him that my tits are not the parts he’s supposed to be massaging, and he replies that he’s just making sure I’m perfectly clean. A valid concern indeed. After I’ve decided that I’m sufficiently relaxed, I slide my legs over the edge, feet pointing at Chris.
After a bit more washing, he puts his strong hands to work, starting with Leftie. His thumbs knead into my arch, and I groan with delight. Ooh, if that’s how it feels right at the start, I’m one thousand percent certain this massage will have a happy ending. And a happy epilogue. I wonder what I’ll make him do once I win my bet. Hmm, how long he can hold his breath while eating my pussy? Can I also get an orgasm from having my feet licked? Guess we’ll find out.
“Aaaaah…” I exhale, so chill I might faint.
“Is this working for you?”
“Mmmmmh, yes. Don’t hesitate to put more strength in there.”
“You weren’t kidding when you said you had thick skin,” he says. “Do you ever wear shoes?”
“Not if I can help it.”
Chris is clearly learning how to give a foot massage as he goes, but he’s motivated, and very attentive to my reactions. As he moves to my heel, I moan so softly it sounds like a breath. I start losing control over my body as the pleasure puts me in a near-hypnotic state. Ironically, even though Chris is servicing me, he’s basically the one in charge now. He could make me do anything right now. I close my eyes and let him do his thing. Hmmm, this feels so damn good…
I jump up. My boyfriend has just pinched the back of my paw… which had moved down between my thighs, without my notice.
“No cheating,” he says.
I groan, lay back down, and silently order him to resume his work. I cross my paws beneath my head to make sure I don’t accidentally try to touch myself again. It’s very tempting, too: even though the massage is fucking great, I’m beginning to doubt that it’s going to get me to cum. Maybe it was a myth after all, or maybe I’m… Ah…
My mind is fleeting, and my eyelids refuse to open again -not that I’m trying very hard. Stars pop up in my mind, floating around in a lazy dance. And speaking of floating, I can barely even sense the bathtub around me. I hear a voice singing to me. I think it’s Chris’.
Wait. Yes, it is Chris’ voice. But he’s not singing. It sounds more like he’s complaining. What about? Bah, I don’t care right now. I… Hey, where did the warmth go? Why is the water so cold suddenly? And why are all the bubbles gone? Damn, I’m hungry too. Wait.
“You fell asleep,” Chris points out, not that he needs to.
“Mmgrrrm.” I stretch. “Why did you stop?”
“Because there’s no point. You’re going to pass out any second.”
Eh, he’s right. I extract myself from the near freezing water -that’s how it feels anyway- and grab a towel.
“Guess the bet is forfeit, then,” he says.
“Guess so, but only for now. We’re trying this again tomorrow.”
“Will your Mom let us use the bathroom again?”
“I made some calculations. If they’re correct, she’ll be on her period tomorrow.”
He grimaces. “Ah, come on…”
“Which means she won’t get in the way,” I continue, disregarding his discomfort. “Neither will Dad. As for Nova, she’ll be gone for all of spring break. Apparently, she booked some kind of vacation, or she’s got a secret mission or something. So we’re good.”
I glance at Chris as he helps me dry my fur, and I start to think. About him, about me. About us. About how there’s going to be a tomorrow. And a day after tomorrow. And a day after the day after tomorrow. My mind goes on to the farther future. Next week, next month, next year… That’s when I finally come to the realization that not only do I want what we have to last -to really last, I mean-, I can have it.
Used to be that projecting myself in the future would achieve nothing but increase my anxiety. I thought of it as a dark, uncertain place. It scared me for how empty it was, as I couldn’t think of anything I wanted there.
But now, the days to come seem so bright, so full of potential. There’s going to be joy, and laughs, and smiles enough to fill them all. There’s going to be snarks, and sarcasms, and wisecracks aplenty, too.
Oh, and favors, of course. Most of them sexual. Very sexual. I am a Hellhound after all, it’s what we do.
And I know that, no matter what, I’ll always be able to count on Chris to get even.487 Views