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* Hunting Vixens 2 * -- (c)2020 Kevin Foxboy. All rights reserved

At sixteen I was allowed to be caught and decide if I wanted to go to the winner's

cabin in the evening, to present him my tail as a trophy. We'd eat dinner and drink

a little wine, and at eighteen I was allowed to show him my furry bikini up close.

I almost always allowed him to remove the tied-on fur runners as if he was undres-

sing me, one fur trim at a time, slowly and sensuously.

If you just came here for the furry costumes, or the healthy

mountain air, or even the running of a hunt, please skip ahead a tilde.

~

I had grown up in a clothing-optional pagan coven, and at the MLHC I chose to go

about my days nude in the adult section, or just in a bikini on the rest of the property.

That's if it was warm enough, and most days even in spring or autumn I was working

enough keeping cabins clean that I could strip down to the bikini and relax.

I was better at running the paths than the guests were at guiding the horses, so even

though their longer legs let them gallop faster, the rough patches made the hunters

slow down every once in a while. I was only caught a few times, sometimes because

I wanted to meet a well-muscled man, and show him what a good evening he could

have with a consenting young woman in a furry vixen costume.

Even without adult behavior. The dinner and concurrent conversation kept me familiar

with the world outside the MLHC, and most men were civilised enough to keep their

interaction to that. It was up to me to suggest something more, and we both knew

I was consenting if I did.

I'll admit there were a few men who decided that catching me was all the consent

they needed; and I'll also admit that during solstices and equinoxes my body was

fertile and female enough that my pheromones muddled my thinking. One man in

particular wanted to watch me undress by removing my costume's furry trim, and

once I was down to the two-piece tan-through (but not quite see-through) bikini,

he wanted to take control of me.

At first I resisted his sudden hug and forceful kiss, but I do actually enjoy a bit of

roughness, and I had implicitly consented to the evening's activities by agreeing

to come with him to his cabin. He held me, and his strong grip didn't actually hurt.

I relaxed and stopped trying to push him away.

He may have decided that my acquiescence to his demands meant my submission,

but he still didn't try to hurt me, just held me helpless as he backed me up against a

cinderblock wall. He even held a hand in my human hair, at first just to control me,

but also to prevent me from hurting myself.

When I realised my position I squirmed weakly. It would insult his dominant power

over me if I were too easy to control, and he chuckled as he gripped my hair and

pulled, actually rather gently. It was enough to teach me he could hurt me, and my

brief resistance faded.

I accepted his kiss, and as our tongues dueled, he gained the advantage. Still keeping

me compliant, he reached his arms around me and hugged, forcing me to obey as he

untied my bikini top at my chest, and as it released my breasts, he bent down and

began to lick.

As I gasped in pleasure at his skill, he untied my top at my neck and completely

exposed my breasts. As I've mentioned, my natural C size mammaries were sup-

plemented in the vixen suit with a pair each of B's and A's, as well as nipples, and

I'm pretty sure my additional endowments were what attracted him and encouraged

his hunting efforts.

I just hope he realised the bulges and curves were part of the fake fur suit, and wasn't

too disappointed when he found I don't have six breasts and eight nipples on my real

human body. Maybe when DNA science catches up, I can have a sexier body.

Giggle, maybe even real fur all over, and a big bushy tail to swat people with. Yes I do

giggle sometimes, to tease the men hunters; and ok the women too once in awhile. I

repeat that I don't believe that scanty clothing and teasing have to necessarily mean

I want adult intimacy.

I mentioned my friends Cindy and Steve, and we just hang around the trees in fur, or

in the changing rooms in less; although it's skimpy swimsuits in the lounge areas,

we're all adults, and we've seen each other completely nude. No one gets offended

or embarrassed, and no one teases the males for showing their interest in the females.

I know I like a bit of male interest, and Cindy does too; I've admitted my interest in

bare-chested men, yum and yip. In the lounge we can see each others' skimpy swim-

suits and bare skin out of fur; and since we all role-play hunt animals, we run, jump

and climb quite regularly.

The men get quite pleasantly muscled, even ones like Kevin, who has to keep working

on his shape. We do have rooms with gymnastic equipment, and since I live full-time

at the Main Line Hunt Club now, I can work on my pecs and glutes (yes women have

muscles to get firm even without the bodybuilder look) anytime I want.

I really enjoy when men and other women, whether guests, staff or owners, show their

appreciation for all my hard body work. I can work up a healthy sweat, then grab my

bikini and go to the showers, wash all over, and walk through the lounge area to the

enema room to clean inside too.

Then I dry off and put on the bikini. Nobody's ever complained if I walk around nude

in the lounge, and we don't allow minors in anyway. They have their own showers in

the cabins so the prudes don't bother them or us. Ok, most times I don't bother to

dry off completely, just stop dripping.

With the bikini I have enough covering my sensitive areas so the fur doesn't itch.

Nothing ruins the bipedal-animal look quicker than lifting the costume to rub the

skin. Real animals scratch themselves, sure; but we make sure we don't bring in

parasites on our costumes.

~

Ok, I promised a tilde, and here it is. One Monday recently I was hanging out in the

lower apple orchard (the MLHC has several spread around for the guests) with Cindy

and Steve, and as usual they wore the gray fox fursuits the club provided. They're

tight enough with the support suits we could see the shapeliness of Cindy's curves

and Steve's muscles.

I was sitting in the grass, idly flipping my red fox vixen tail and enjoying the thrill of

the tail anchor squirming about inside me. I'm pretty sure Kevin told you all about

the anchors, so I won't be redundant. I think both gray foxes were enjoying their own

tails, watching mine and enjoying the fact that the guests didn't realise what the sly

grins meant.

As usual, Cindy had left her tail alone long enough to flick it about, and climbed up

an apple tree to pick some fresh fruit. It had just stopped being tinged green Saturday,

and was now becoming juicy and red all over. All eighteen of her costume claws were

dull like all canid claws, but hers were supplemented by steel blades she could flick

out.

They were controlled by simply pushing out or pulling back on linkage under her four

costume paws, over her feet and hands but hidden under the fur. The two foxes liked

to say they did Marvel's Wolverine two better, and the steel was sharp and strong

enough that Cindy and Steve could haul themselves up the soft wood easily.

I rather envied the two foxes, but reds don't climb so I don't get steel claws. I've cert-

ainly been by the supply space in the costume room, and all the Hunt Club costumes

come with fiberglass claws with paint primer. We just put on a color coat according

to which animal the costume's for, and then a clear coat on top.

Come on over, and if you're interested we can get Barry the badger accountant to show

you more about the costumes. He's willing to go digging around the supplies and our

acounts.

Anyway, the grays kept their claws out so they could stay in the trees, Steve climbing

a different one than his vixen, and called me over to drop an apple. I thanked him and

since foxes are omnivores, I was still in role. Steve reached for another apple, but

almost dropped it, and slipped when he reached to grab it. Those eighteen steel

claws certainly showed their usefulness as he hung from them before scrambling

back onto his branch.

We all heard the howls as Rudy and Ethel ran up in their timber wolf costumes. Both

big bulky Africans, they were part of the Hunt Club's safety patrol. They gathered under

Steve's branch and wanted him to drop down so they could check him out. I'm pretty

sure Steve was willing to let the wolves check his body, especially Rudy.

He made sure the steel claws were still in place under his todsuit before climbing

down. He wasn't as sure-footed coming down, and he complained that some claws

had gotten bent. He knew enough to appreciate the two wolves' help.

Now of course I'd seen Rudy and Ethel as humans without the wolf costumes, and

they'd seen us without the foxes. I'd enjoyed seeing them in the showers, and I liked

seeing Rudy's muscular body as he helped Ethel soap and rinse herself. It's easier

for someone else to reach the upper back anyway, and Ethel leaned back into Rudy's

strong arms to let him rub.

Ahem. I'm letting myself get distracted again. As I've said, I grew up with casual nudity,

and we get plenty of time to watch each others' bodies move sensuously in the skimpy

swimsuits and fur trim. Anyway, the safety patrol furrs helped Steve walk with them to

the aid room with the registered nurse, and Cindy and I tagged along because we were

concerned. The bent steel footpaw blades wouldn't retract, and made Steve walk

clumsily.

The first thing I noticed in the aid room was the tang of alcohol disinfectant, and it

was strong enough to clear my sinuses. The second thing I noticed was Jinny's chip-

munk fursuit with the stripes running down the back over the tail. I remembered sev-

eral hunts with chipmunks milling around the edges, and big beefy wolves at some

of the rest spots. I appreciate the MLHC's concern for our safety as well as the way

they fit in unobtrusively.

I noticed Cindy eyeing the chipmunk fur and asked if she wanted to try a different

species sometime. She said she wouldn't mind learning new behaviors, and I remin-

ded her that animal foxes eat chipmunks. She got closer to me and spoke in a low

volume that she wouldn't mind me biting her a little.

We were talking about maybe interacting in public in the fursuits as fox and chipmunk;

she could run past a group of guests and I could chase her. The idea intrigued me,

and we waited for Jinny to finish examining Steve. There seemed to be some mutual

amusement in checking over the gray fox, presumably to make sure he wasn't hurt. I'd

gotten so used to seeing Hunt Club staff in role-play fursuits that it seemed strange

to see Steve's human arms outside of the lounge.

~

Today I'd like to take a break, but I promise I'll get back to Jinny and us role-play

foxies. I just wanted to write a bit about women's bodies, 'cause I've been reading

the clinic's pamphlets about health. I'll let Steve write about men if he wants.

Anyway, all us employees are adults here at the Main Line Hunt Club, 'cause of federal,

state and local labor laws. Any children of employees have to stay out of the adult part,

and we do have professionals minding their play. They can use the kiddie pool if they're

young, or the adolescents' pool if they're old enough.

I grew up casually nude, using bikinis for coverup. I decided back in my early teens to

have most of my body hair removed, because I didn't like how thick and black it grew.

I know, it's not exactly natural, and went against my pagan beliefs; but I've seen coven

members, even men, without body hair and frankly it looks good smooth.

So I started with the coven way, with herbs mixed and heated, then rubbed all over my

bare skin. Aunt Wilma saw how I got upset and showed me how to be careful with the

hair-remover herbs, and since I can't reach my upper back, and have a little trouble with

the back of my shoulders and lower back, I was glad to let her touch me like a massage.

As I stood next to the stove and the stewpot with the heated herbs, I held myself up by

leaning over the countertop. I offered my bare flesh to the application of the herbs and

enjoyed the relaxation the warmth offered.

Mmmm, her strong hands felt good rubbing over my shoulders, her fingers squeezing

me and working the herb mixture into the skin. She worked it down my back, making

sure to rub the body hair off, down to my rump and forward around my hips and up

my belly.

She made sure to get my consent before working her way up to my ribs and along my

budding breasts. Oh it felt good as she rubbed over my areoles and nipples! I was just

starting to develop bulges, and I wanted them touched and stroked. Yum and yip.

Now I'm adult and I've asked for stroking from the MLHC coven members. It means a

bit more from adults, even when sex isn't involved. I do enjoy the physical closeness,

and I'm quite willing to rub the other coven members, even the teenagers.

Anyway, Aunt Wilma taught me about allowing 'good touch', and it did feel good as she

moved her hands over my nude body. All over my chest and shoulders, joining the herbs

from my back and slipping up my neck. I held my head hair up out of the way as she did

my throat and the back of my neck, making the border between the long hair I kept and

the short hair to remove that much more obvious.

And then my aunt's wonderful hands rubbed over the skin of my rump, the hair-removal

herbs following my gluteal curves and giving me more thrills. She left my thickening

groin hair alone for now, keeping my coin slot hidden for a future lover to explore,

and that was as low on me as she could easily reach, so she helped me balance

as I stepped up on a chair.

Aunt Wilma reached over to the pot and got another handful of herbs. I could already

feel them working me over, a gentle tingling as my body hair loosened, and enjoyed

her moving under my rump and down the backs of my thighs.

~

I was standing up on the chair when I happened to look out the kitchen window, and

got a giggle out of the fact that since I could see out, folks outside could see in. This

is about the first time I stood nude while Aunt Wilma rubbed pagan herbs all over my

young female body to remove body hair, so my breast mounds were barely formed.

I really didn't mind people seeing my nudity; after all Aunt Wilma was nude too, so I

could see the effect of repeated herb rubbings. Her adult body was quite smooth and

looked good without body hair except for her head and groin. She gave me a sly grin

as she noted my reaction to the element symbols trimmed into her groin hair.

As my body was just starting to become fertile, I was also chopping up herbs to drink

tea so I wouldn't have to bleed every month. I can see why mundanes made up an invis-

ible supreme being, so they can blame him when things go wrong. Pagans just take it

in stride, using herbs to relax the uterus and ovaries.

Ok, now I wanna talk about ovaries and uteri. Usually a girl is born with two sleeping

ovaries and an unused uterus which just kinda hang out together with their ligaments

at the girl's pelvis and hips. When she enters puberty, maybe as young as thirteen, her

oves begin to wake up and take a look around.

This is when a pagan young woman starts drinking the tea that keeps her uterus (one

per woman usually) sleepy so it doesn't try to make a placenta, because the angio-

genesis is wasteful and just drains her body energy. I mean, she's becoming fertile,

so the body thinks it's doing the right thing, getting ready to nourish a fetus 'n all;

but she's not living in a primitive tribe, and it's not the Stone Age anymore.

So the ovaries wake up, and play dice or something (kidding!) to decide who kicks out

an egg first, so they can alternate every 28 days or so. Women's bodies are not clocks.

The young woman doesn't want a baby, because men are still icky and have cooties.

Ok, she's grown out of those stages, but she agrees with her parents she's not ready

yet to get pregnant. So she sits out this cycle, and the placenta breaks down and

bleeds out. Yes it's yucky, and the cramps are too. At least the pagans have tea that

keeps the woman parts sleepy.

It's also about this time a young woman learns about ovary massage. Just having

someone older who knows what the biologically mature new woman's going through

is very relaxing and prevents getting upset at the new feelings and urges. That was

my experience anyway.

Both ovaries and the uterus between them can just chill and enjoy the feel of some-

one's hands gently rubbing oil into the skin covering them. A nice increase in blood-

flow keeps them happy, and the relaxation from the herb tea lets them wait a few

years until the woman's mental maturity catches up.

After all, nobody wants to have to deal with unhappy ovaries or uteri.

~

I may have had a goofy grin on my face as I wandered down Memory Lane. I was

leaning against a tray table with the brakes on, watching Jinny the Main Line Hunt

Club nurse lady and remembered seeing her in her chipmunk fursuit. The tail is

nicely bushy, although not as much as my red fox vixen suit.

I watched Rudy and Ethel in their timber wolf suits; they were both a bit taller and

more muscled than I am, but not as much bigger as the dumb animals are. Cindy

was being looked over by one of Jinny's assistants, and I do mean the young man

was checking the young woman, running his paws, I mean human hands up and

down her fursuit arms, around her shoulders, down her back and rump.

Cindy wasn't actually injured, just worried for Steve, and her arms were a bit strained

from reaching over to his apple-tree branch to steady him. Her exercises and role-

play hunt running kept her muscles firm, and although I preferred looking at Steve as

Jinny carefully removed his bent claws, I got to hold each of his arms down as Ethel

watched him for signs of shock from hanging onto the branch just by his hand-claws.

I'd like to divert a bit to mention that once Rudy saw Steve was being helped, I was

able to get his attention to check me out. There's something about casually wearing

the fur, and seeing each other nude in the showers or scantily-clad in the lounge, that

makes us feel friendly and willing to be handled.

Or maybe it's the skimpy tan-thru swimsuits that pique our interest. At any rate, Rudy

and I went into an unused patient room for some mutual petting, stroking over each

others' fur and checking out the firm muscles under it. Of course Rudy, being strongly

male, has more muscle than I do, being female.

I was also enduring the part of my monthly fertility cycle when I'm particularly attracted

to muscular men and their firm bodies. Rudy and Ethel often run in the hunts, mostly as

wolves looking out for foxes' safety, but also keeping an eye on the hunt club's horses

from the ground, while the Huntmaster and his assistants keep the guests safe.

I was rather interested in Ethel as well, since the African woman was quite nicely

muscled as well as wearing a sports bra under her wolfsuit to support her lovely

breasts. You may not know that some of the exercises to keep the pectoral muscles

strong also have an effect on keeping a woman's breasts held firmly.

I was with Rudy, and slowly running my hands over the seam surrounding his hips. The

suit is technically made in several pieces sewn together inside so it's like a jumpsuit.

It's solid in the back from the ankle cuffs up the legs - mmm, Rudy's muscled legs,

yumm - and around the rump, with a slot opening to mount the tail to the anchor. The

jumpsuit fur continues up the back, over the shoulders and down the arms to the wrists.

The fur is long enough in the front to cover up the long zip going from the groinal area

up the abdomen and chest. The zip is actually offset, to hide in the seam between the

fur color from the back, and the lighter - often white or cream - fur color of the chest

down below the waist.

Rudy's left-handed, and it's easier for him to grip the zip across his chest on the right.

That meant I was using my left hand as I faced him, rather fondling his chest as I

unzipped him. The fursuit chest I mean. I do rather enjoy unzipping men to reveal

the stretchy undersuit that helps hold up the fursuit, and the part of a man that we

teach him to use to please women.

You may have noticed I said the fursuit has ankle and wrist cuffs. Please take a few

minutes to get your mind off the unzipping, and the mutual pleasure parts to appre-

ciate the craftpersonship.

Then there's the thin slippers with plastic soles which cover the fursuit wearer's feet

and go up the ankles. Actually the cuffs are Velcro, the soft material part that doesn't

stick to anything, and the slippers have risers with the sticky part. Roll that part over

and insert feet all the way down into the slipper, then roll the Velcro up over the fur-

suit's ankle cuffs.

Pat the parts smooth and it looks like the fur comes down the thighs, over the knees

(the fur and undersuit have material to cover your knees even when you kneel down,

without going baggy when you stand), down the legs, ankles and feet. As an American

Red Fox, my fursuit has rather colorful red fur down to black partway up my lower legs

just under the calf muscle bulge.

And of course my slippers are black, too, including the soles. There's also black fur

over the slippers on my foot arches, around and under my toes, along my soles back

to my ankles and the black fursuit cuffs. Sometimes I lounge around without the full

suit, just the slippers making my human feet look furry and ready for rubbing.

I'd been with the MLHC as a guest since I was six, shuttled between parents at eleven

until I came back when I was sixteen. I was allowed to wear fuzzy slippers the first five

years without the suit, but I saw the older kids walking around with various stages of

furriness.

I just thought it was because of the club's nature education for children. When I came

back and saw the kids now adult wearing full fursuits and acting like the animals the

suit represented, of course I wanted to join, and until I earned my own fursuit I tried

on several different species till I found I liked the red fox a lot.

As an adult, I get to run as prey in the hunt. I'm not always a vixen; I've been other

canids such as coyotes, dholes, dingoes, housedogs, jackals and wolves. Since

it's the fur suit that's modeled after a furry species, I could be various felids too,

such as tiger, lion, jaguar, leopard, snow leopard, clouded leopard, cougar, cheetah,

eurasian lynx, Iberian lynx, Canada lynx, bobcat, ocelot, serval, caracal, jaguarundi

or margay.

Whew! How come the felids get to have so many different fur patterns for over a

dozen species? Maybe they have to keep trying, to get as good as us canids! There's

also badgers, skunks, weasels, ermines (the white fur type), martens, ferrets, mon-

gooses, beavers, and suricates.

Sorry if I forget all the carnivore species; I'm not a taxonomist. And of course there

are plenty of prey species like rabbits, hares, pikas, various mice and rats, any other

rodents...

~

Before my breasts grew up, I got a giggle out of fitting into the fursuits for male

animals too; sometimes I'd wear a suit for a shorter male, then a female, then

another male at different times during the day. Since we all have our own under-

suits, we can just add a fursuit later.

We can even run around the marked hunt paths for an hour or so, then meet another

roleplayer and switch fursuits! The guests are just looking for a human dressed as

an animal anyway, so it doesn't matter who's actually running from them.

I think most of the guests are just enjoying the horserides and the pretend hunts.

The fursuits are far too expensive to use paintguns to mark a pretend kill, and we're

supposed to avoid running through mud as well. Sometimes when the women just

wear the skimpy panties and bra, or the men the bikini briefs, we get to run thru mud

and then a water hazard to rinse off.

Then the guests are allowed to use food dye to mark our arms or legs or rumps. It's

enough to make us stumble, and then we fall down to play dead. Several of us have

had the dye hit our backs, and then we need help rinsing it off after we're paraded

around the lodge as captives.

Most of us role-players have learned to enjoy being bound and draped over a trium-

phant guest's horse, our ankles tied together and our wrists tied behind our backs,

our fur tails waving and our bellies curved over the saddle. If you've never been bound

wearing almost nothing as a hunter's prize, please come on over to the MLHC and

ask the huntmaster for a turn.

I'd also like to mention that the slippers we wear have patterned soles for traction.

After I'd been running for a few years, I met a new guy who also liked wearing an

American Red Fox todsuit and running as prey in the hunts. Just as I like being known

as Alice, even by my parents, even though it's not the name they gave me, just a role-

play name, this rather scrawny but overweight guy wanted to be called Kevin.

So anyway, Kevin Foxboy started out as one of the hunt dogs on a Beginners' path, and

after a few months in the skimpy briefs with a fake tail and fur trim, he fitted his slip-

pers with rougher material shaped like animal hindpaw pads so he got traction even

on wet grass. Everyone liked the animal look and especially the safer tread, and since

the pads were carefully glued on, they took the weight and the wear on solid ground.

Instead of wearing out the slipper soles and having to junk the whole furry thing, and

having to color-match new slippers with fur to the fursuit, we could just remove the

old pads and replace them. It seemed so obvious in retrospect we wondered why we

hadn't thought of it ourselves. Cindy and I gave Kevin an old worn-out tail each, and

he wanted us to model them, so we did.

Even the guys running as prey wanted to thank Kevvy, but we found out he was strictly

hetero and wasn't interested. If you've never seen ladies wearing fur-trimmed bikinis

shaking their bootys to make the fake tails swish against their partly-bare rumps and

thighs, c'mon over and we'll show you. No matter what gender or orientation you are.

It turned out Kev was more interested in the bondage and submission part of the role-

play than the animal costumes. After all, we had to be so careful not to get the full

fursuits dirty that it cut off some of the fun. He was certainly willing to participate

in the adult parties after a hunt run, and show the winning guest some entertainment

by sitting on a hunt girl and slowly, sensuously removing her fur.

We could never get Kev to explain to us how he learned to undress a woman so

she enjoyed giving herself to his skilled paws. Cindy and I went to his cabin a few

times, wearing our fox suits, and he was willing enough to show us his skills; but

the most he'd say was he got started with BDSM from a group he met in college.

~

So now I'd like to talk about the BDSM aspects of the furry roleplay here at the Main

Line Hunt Club. I don't know if you're familiar with the adult roleplay of Bondage and

Discipline, Dominance and Submission, Sadism and Masochism. But I suggest you

start with D/s, since it's similar to what goes on in the animal world as well as the

mundane human one.

Animals fight for dominance so they can mate. Personally I don't like fighting; it injures

some folks and wrongly excludes others. If you're trying to keep a species going, let

males and females interact. The group leader can only please one female at a time,

and if he goes around trying to get all the ladies pregnant, he uses up his sperm and

has to wait for his body to catch up.

And let the ladies decide who they want to try out, to get some fun, because it's their

bodies that do all the gestation work. It shouldn't be just pounce, grab, pound a few

times, then leave. Do it all again. I don't think animals know to have fun while they

interact. When I'm caught, I like to step out of both the role and fursuit, to show folks

I'm actually a human woman, with a body that's worth taking the time to enjoy.

Which gets me back to the hunts and the adult stuff that happens back at the hunt

lodge. At sixteen I was allowed to be hunted, and I was caught fairly frequently at

first because I forgot to hide and let the horses run by. I'd spend a few hours cuddling

with a hunter and enjoy dinner, but no adult stuff.

When I turned eighteen and found out about the casual nudity and adult stuff, I felt

quite relaxed because I'd grown up nude or scantily clad, in the pagan coven with

my Aunt Wilma. So many mundanes in America seem to think getting nude means

they get sex, and yes it can feel really good. But guys, really, do it so the woman gets

pleasure too.

I don't believe mundanes get enough sex, because their various religions make such

a big deal about doing it just to have children. That makes it more of a duty and takes

the fun away. So the men don't get the chance to explore their feelings and learn to

enjoy being with a woman.

Ok, I'm not naive, and I know some men and women aren't interested in heterosexual

encounters. Frankly I'm mostly attracted to men, especially the muscular bodies, and

if two men want sex, leave them alone. Go somewhere private, wash everything off

and out; go ahead and enjoy each other, just don't make noise.

When I met Kevin, and found out he's rather submissive, I was a bit confused. After all,

I'd grown up in coven where people treated each other as equals, and here this guy

was down on his knees asking me to let him please me! I guess he was just showing

me what the lady who introduced us meant by Kev being submissive, but it was a bit

sudden for me at eighteen to deal with this.

I was also concerned for Kev because Lisa treated him as beneath her, and even put

a collar and leash on him! Seeing him walk behind her on leash like a human dog was

quite a shock, and I wanted to get him loose until he told me it was consensual. And

then they showed me how Kevin even enjoys crawling on all fours, guided by the leash!

If you've never seen a young adult man down on his hands and knees, wearing nothing

but bikini briefs and letting a woman guide him with a leash clipped to his collar, you

might be surprised at the submissive roleplay. Even if you've seen or done it before,

come on over to the Main Line Hunt Club, because Lisa treats kevin like a dog, and

he really seems to like it!

Of course animal dogs don't speak English, so kevin just barks and whimpers when

he's in dogspace. Kev does change the pitch of his whimpers to indicate "yes", "no"

or he's confused, and it's quite amusing to learn his manners while keeping him on

his knees.

Even when Lisa taps his costume dog muzzle to bring him out of dogspace, she

keeps up the Dominant act by making kev stay on the floor, referring to his front

or back paws instead of hands or feet, and keeping him in mittens and socks which

rob him of use of his fingers and toes.

They're not usually locked on, since they're stiff enough, like a real dog's front paws

or long digitigrade back paws, to make it difficult for kevindog to hold anything or

pull the velcro. I quickly got over the surprise of the young man acting so doglike

and setting aside his humanity, and saw how calm and relaxed he was as Lisa's pet.

~

Which brings me back to the MLHC clinic with Cindy and Steve gray foxes, Rudy and

Ethel timber wolves, Jinny the chipmunk nurse, and me, Alice the red fox. While Ethel

and a non-furry assistant helped Jinny check out Cindy and Steve, Rudy and I were in

a side room checking each other out.

I think I mentioned running our paws over each other's fursuits, smoothing the fake

fur and enjoying the body muscles and curves. We unzipped each other and he growled

to encourage me in his embrace as our costume muzzles rubbed each other and our

paws roamed.