Work Text
You’ve got a mouthful of hot cheese when the sirens go off. You put a hand (greasy, damn it, you’re getting pizza grease on your shirt) on your chest, and you try not to get more cheese down your chin. “Congratulations,” says the voice up ahead. “You are our 69,420th customer!” You choke, and you take a swig of your soda, the sweetness exploding across your tongue, which feels the tiniest bit singed. “Excuse me?” You gasp out, and you hit yourself in the chest. “What?” “You are our 69,420th customer,” the voice repeats. “You have earned one (1) night with the Magitech of your choice.” A pause, then a quick rush of chatter. “Offer applies to any Magitech available, Fazcorp is not responsible for any damage done within your free night. One night equals to three (3) hours. Not guaranteed to be solo.” “Oh,” you manage to choke out, and you take another slug of soda, just to get the feeling in your mouth. “So I can…” The bot has you by the arm, and you’re already being dragged through the chairs and tables, nearly tripping, and your pizza is still there - you were in the middle of your dinner! “Our available talent of the night is; Roxy Wolf,” the mech tells you. You wait to hear the rest of the list, but; “our available talent of the night is: Roxy Wolf.” “Roxy Wolf,” you say, because… well, who else are you going to say? You’d been hoping to see the floor show - you’ve always been a fan of that, although it’s never a guarantee, at the price range that you’re at. You smooth your hands over your kilt, and you’re trying not to get pizza grease on it, but oh, now you’re being brought up the elevator, past the daycare, up towards the VIP lounge. “You will be allowed to do whatever you want,” the mech tells you. It squeezes your wrist, just hard enough to be a warning. “Any damage to the Magitech will be your responsibility, and you will need to make the payment however you see fit.” “Right,” you say distantly. “Right. I… right.” You’re in the Pleasureplex, and you’ve got a chance to do whatever you want to an actual real life Magitech, don’t look this gift horse in the mouth. Gift wolf in the mouth. Oh god. I’m so dead. Your heart is beating desperately in your ears, and your cheeks are so hot that you’re amazed they’re not catching fire. You let yourself be shoved in front of a dressing room door, and then the door opens up with a shunk noise, sliding up. You lick your lips, and you can hear Roxy mumbling to herself. “You’re beautiful,” you hear her say. “You’re gorgeous. You’r esexy. You’re smart. Everyone loves you. People want you. People need you.” “It’s your turn for the freebie, Roxy,” you hear through the radio on her mirror, and you try not to make a face. Freebie? Really? Thanks. You try to school your face into something appreciative, as Roxy swings around to see you. And then you don’t have to pretend, because she’s standing there in front of you, big eyes, soft fur, sharp teeth. She’s glowing a little bit purple, and the brightness of the glowing is making your head spin. You want to touch her more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life, and you shove your hands into the pockets of your kilt to keep from… what, doing something you shouldn't? “Hello,” she says, and she smiles at you. Her teeth are very bright and very sharp. They look like they could rip your throat out, and there’s something burning in the backs of your eyes that makes your knees lock up. “H-hello,” you say, and you swallow, your throat clicking. “Are you… are you Roxie?” No duh, she’s Roxie, you scold yourself. “I am,” she says. “And you were our lucky winner, weren’t you?” She smiles at you and licks her lips, and you feel like a fish looking upstream at a bear. It’d be worth it. “I am,” you say, and you take a step into the room, your shoes sinking into the thick carpet. The door closes behind you, and you look over one shoulder, your heart beating faster in your chest. Alone with a predator, some part of your mind gibbers. Alone with a Magitech, the other part of your mind scolds. She’s got safeguards in place. “Do you know what that entails?” Roxy runs her hands down her sides, pausing to gently cup her breasts, grasp her hips, wag her tail behind her. You can feel your own arousal start to pound through your head, and your mouth has gone dry, your palms sweaty. You shake your head. “I, uh. I wasn’t aware that you were up for, uh. For raffle.” Wait. is that rude? “Your, uh. Your experience. Your time.” You lick your lips again. “I appreciate the time,” you tell her. “That you’re giving me. As a, uh, as a less… less VIP customer.” “Oh, we appreciate the freebies,” Roxy says, as she takes a step closer to you. She’s taller than you, and your eyes are drawn straight down to her cleavage, where it stands out, as if she’s wearing a push up bra. You can see the ragged red fabric, and your hands itch to slide under it. You’ve seen enough videos of her getting fucked, of her fucking. You’ve paid Fazcorp an ungodly amount of money for all those videos, for every floor show, and Roxy is a favorite. You can see the faint purple shadow of her nipples, where they glow through the fabric. You want to touch them. You want to taste them. You can, some giddy part of your mind yells. You can do whatever you want, remember that, and you already gave your bio-data consent when you bought the ticket, so you don't’ even have to worry about signing anything! You’re flying a million miles outside of your own body, and you watch yourself hover a hand over Roxie’s side, where there’s a soft overflow of her belly, sagging over the waistband of her bikini bottoms. Her belly looks soft and warm, and you want to sink your fingers into it. “I want to… sit down,” you say thickly. Your knees are weak, and you’re a little afraid that she can tell that you’re turned on. As if you’d be able to hide it. As if you want to hide it. She guides you to a chair, and then you’re sitting down, staring up at her with wide eyes. You can see the hem of her shirt riding up over her belly, where the fur is paler, and you let your hands hover over her sides momentarily, then take handfuls of it. She’s soft. She’s so soft and warm, and you can see the purple runes glowing at her joints, but that doesn’t matter, because you’re pressing your face into her front, letting your hands slide along her sides, over her ribs. The hem of her shirt is ticklish against the back of your hands, and you can smell her - some kind of animal scent, mixed with soap, with pizza, with living skin. You hold on tight to her sides, and some of it squeezes between your fingers. You press your face into her belly, rubbing your cheek into the fur, and she squirms against you. Her hands cover yours, and they try to go around to her backside. You squeeze it once, gently, through the bikini bottoms, and then you’re holding on to her belly again, squeezing the softness, then giving it a jiggle. You mouth at the soft spot under her navel, bent nearly double, and you feel her squirm against you. She tries to pull your head up further, but you don’t want to move - she’s so soft, so warm. She smells so good, and you squirm, pressing your thighs together. Then she’s guiding your hands up, and her t-shirt is so thin, and so is her bra. You can feel her nipples against your palms, and you squeeze them roughly, flicking her nipples with your thumbs. She shivers against you, and her belly shakes against your cheek as you pinch her nipples and tug on them. You begin to kiss up between her breasts, and you shove her breasts together, and push your face into the tight, dark space between them. You can smell her, and her fur is like velvet against you. Her nipples are glowing brighter now, as you fumble down the cups of her bra, so that her breasts are forced up and forward. Her nipples are glowing through her shirt now, and you pinch them, tug on them, twist them like radio dials. She gasps again, and she growls, her teeth bared. When you nervously flick your tongue against her nipple, she shivers, and threads her fingers through your hair. She’s pushing your face into her breast, her nipple hard against your cheek. You open your mouth to suck on her nipple, and she moans (a little theatrically, you think), and straddles your leg. She’s warm and heavy, and her belly is soft under your hand, her breast just as soft. You flick her nipple with your thumb, with your tongue - the fabric is slippery under your tongue, and she’s still moaning, squirming against you. Your legs spread wider, as her knees presses up under kilt, against your underwear. You grind against her knee, and she circles it. You gasp, and you clutch at her. You suck harder at her nipple, kneading the soft flesh, the fur slipping between your fingers. She moans and rocks her hips forward, and her knee is right where you’re the most sensitive. You grind forward, and you suck on her nipple, harder, and the magic tingles on your tongue. She’s clutching at your shoulders and grinding against you, and you sob. Digging your teeth into her breast. The flesh dimples under the blunt pressure of your teeth, and it dimples under your hands too, as you squeeze her belly, squeeze her breast. She’s moaning, and even drunk on magic and arousal, it sounds a bit put on to you. You switch to her other nipple, as your hips hunch forward. You’re somehow on the edge of an orgasm already, and you’d be embarrassed if you could think, but she’s doing something, her fingers digging into the back of your neck. You bite her through her shirt, and you clutch at her as you come in your underwear. It’s a grinding, wet gusher of an orgasm, and your face is already getting pink with embarrassment as she smirks down at you, one eyebrow up. “Seriously?” Her voice is reverberating through her torso, right up against you. She shoves you back into the seat, her palms against your nipples, and she smirks. She’s still got you pinned with her knee, and you’re still twitching between your legs, your heart ragged, your nipples hard. “I'm usually…” You start to say, then trail off as she gives you a Look. “You’re usually what?” She flicks you on the nose. “You’re usually less of a pathetic loser, and you don’t come just like that?” She leans back, so that she’s resting all of her weight on your thighs. She makes a big show of grasping at the hem of her shirt, and she pulls it up, pulling her breasts with it. Then… something happens, you can’t process it, you just watch her breasts drop down like something out of a reddit camgirl’s gifset, and arousal throbs through you like pain. You stare, enraptured, at her purple nipples - they look like glowing candies, and your mouth is watering. Your tongue is probably already stained with it, and so are your fingertips, as if you’ve been finger painting with UV paint. She pulls you closer to her, and you take it into your mouth, moaning around the softness of her. Your fingers sink into her sides, and you can feel her ribs heaving beneath your hands, and the warmth of her skin. She’s trembling, her whole body flush against your own, and you let your shirt ride up a bit, so you can feel her fur against your bare human skin. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, to be a Magitech like her, you think, but that’s a pipe dream. You push her tits together, as she straddles you, her knees digging into your sides. She moans, as you slobber over her nipples, licking them both at once. You press wet, sloppy kisses along the wetness covering her cleavage, and the fur is slick and thin. She writhes against you, her nipple srubbing against your cheek, and she grabs your hand, shoving it down between her legs. She’s got a wet cunt, under those bikini bottoms. She doesn’t always, when you’ve seen the videos, but that’s okay. You can feel the hard nub of her clit against the heel of your hand, and you moan around her nipple, kneading her other breast. She’s trembling against you, and her cunt is so wet, wet enough to prune your fingers up. You switch between the different breasts, and you suck, with more slurping, dripping kisses. You’re drunk on the warmth of her body and the scent of her fur, the way her heart beats against your cheek and her soft belly is trembling against your own. You want to roll her over and fuck her, you want to feel her full length against you, you want her in your bed and beside you at your breakfast table and fucking into you, you want this magic to fill the entirety of your self. You hold on to her, rubbing her clit, then sinking two fingers into her cunt. She squeezes you tight, as you kiss and suck along her breasts. You squeeze the soft flesh that hangs over the waistband of her pants, and you swirl your tongue around the tip of her nipple. You can feel the magic buzzing up your teeth, across your tongue. You lap at her nipple, and you grind your hips forward, rubbing your thumb over the hard nub of her clit again and again, as she trembles against you, fingers grasping you tightly. Roxie growls, and you’re a little bit afraid, but the magic is too strong, the need too strong. You pull off of her nipple with a pop, and you move to the other one, curling your fingers and thrusting awkwardly. Against all odds, you’re already aroused again, and you want to come again, you want…. You rub her clit a little harder, letting your tongue pass over her nipple again, the gentle press of your teeth making her shiver against you. When you twist your fingers inside of her, she gasps, and she’s mumbling… something. You can’t keep track of it, because you’re taken in by her scent, by her sound, by the sucking heat of her cunt around your fingers. You feel the first trembles of her orgasm, and you let go of her nipple to lean back, staring up at her, enraptured. Roxy tilts her head back as she comes, and she’s pulling your fingers deeper inside of herself. She’s shaking as she pushes your hand away, and you lick your lips, glancing down at the purple sheen. “Well,” Roxy says, and she clears her throat. She looks embarrassed, as she stands up, stepping away from you and adjusting her shirt. She smooths her hands across her front, and then she frowns at you. “You haven’t come yet?” “I mean, um,” you mumble, wiping your fingers on your t-shirt, and the purple leeches in. You’re going to have stained skin, aren’t you? Glowing purple stains. “I… I can. Again. Probably.” You want to rub your face - you haven’t come by someone else in entirely too long, but… still. “I just need… a little more.” “A little more, huh?” She drops to her knees in front of you, and you can see her breasts dangling down, the glow of her nipples drunk into the shag carpet. Her breath is hot on the insides of your thighs, and you shiver at the first pass of her long, canine tongue through your underwear. You let your legs spread wider, and you lean back into the seat. Your fingers are already itching for the soft fur of her sides and belly, and you’re going to call her back up in a moment. You do, after all, only get three hours. You need to make them count.