Fox and the Fae: Slender Sisters (Attribute theft, giant woman, oral, short)
(Note: This is a continuation of a previous work, “The Fox and the Fae”, which you can read here )
maybe expand on the actual night in the club, she kind of glazes over it a bit in the story. Or maybe revisiting her going and nicking from her sisters
either one would work, but mainly i really wanna know just how big she ended up being at the end of the story
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All these little pieces. These swatches of moments taken and sewn, piece by piece. Who we are, what we become. That’s all it really is. Little moments nicked and stolen, with us daring to think they’re our own.
I was a good, once. Whatever passes for good with us anyways. If any of us ever were-really-I’ll leave to you. Besides.
I can’t tell who or what of them is the real them anymore.
They’re scared of me now, my sisters. They’ve all their reasons, but mostly they’re afraid I’ll nick them a little more. I won’t, but the thought keeps them obedient. Just the one night was enough to make them like this. Whisps of fur and hair, all their power and ego stripped in an instant.
Conveniently given to me, as well.
I hadn’t considered height. It seemed such a strange thing to nick, but I did it all the same. I tell myself sometimes it was to teach them a lesson. But the truth is I was tired. Tired of being the butt of the jokes. Tired even after I’d proven myself, gathered up every scrap I could nick. All just to look like them.
They still laughed, still barked at my esteem until their throats were sore.
“Hahah! Rara’s ruse gives itself away! Look at that fat ass!”
“Those boobs are absolutely ridiculous. Just where the hell do you think you’re nicking from? They’ll know!”
I ignored them as long as I could. I’d convinced myself they would stop. That, if I just kept trying, just kept nicking I’d be like them. They would HAVE to accept me then. When every step swayed, when I’d nicked more men then I remembered.
So I did, and I tried, and I pranked. I nicked just a bit from everyone, I swelled in size. But on and on their comments went, a torrent of cackling and bile. No matter how big I got, my sisters were simply bigger. Curvier. Always so damned much more.
So I hatched a plan.
A final prank. Not so unlike that night at the club.
You wouldn’t know looking at them now. But my sisters, they like their sip and sup. Were we to summarize our existence in any way, “excess” fits the phrasing. The girls liked to drink. They loved to feast. Any excuse to do both was always worth the risk.
Even if it meant losing everything.
It took a month to acquire the food. A week to plan the gathering in the woods. Plenty of fertile, healthy humans were invited. They were the bait. All of this in secret, not a word spoken to a single one of them. There were the odd, stray remarks here and there. Comments about the food and my ass. But I just smiled and giggled. I played along, right until it was time.
You think foxes would be smarter. But we’re not, not really. We’re cruel and clever, but hardly smart. We can be fooled, tricked, lied to and deceived just like any of you.
The look on their faces as they danced was beautiful. They were in ecstasy, my sisters. Had it been any other night they would still be talking about it. Their hips would roll and their clothes would slide from their shoulders. Some even let their tails free. The humans were too drunk to care, to horny to give a damn.
Nobody noticed as I walked through the crowd. The tips of my fingers trailed over their shoulders, and I took all I could.
I nicked until they were twigs, just as I’d been.
I told myself once I wouldn’t nick. That I couldn’t prank. It all seemed so cruel, but those memories feel so far now. Everytime I look down at them-these thin beings, their eyes darting ever upward-I smile. I laugh, the sound genuine and rich as I cup my hands under my breasts.
They’re as massive as one of their hovels. My sisters, they suckle at them as often as they can. Ten at a time rest in the fluffy down of my tail and wait. They think they’re clever, that they’re so smart. That maybe-just maybe-they can nick back what they’ve lost.
The truth is, I just love the feel of their tongues on me. They’re not as soft as a human. But they’ll do, right up until they don’t anymore. Then my sisters will do my nicking for me. Some have already offered to bring men here. They stammer as they bow their heads, either in respect or worship. I don’t think there’s a true difference at this point.
They bow, and say how they know how needful I am. How they’ll happily find me a male, just like you. One that can hold their breath as long as needed. That’s why they brought you here, you know.
Because they didn’t want to be the ones licking for once. They didn’t want to have their faces buried between my thighs, every breath warm and moist. Suffocation inevitable if they stopped even for a moment. Nicking certain if they didn’t do it right.
A night off, and getting off.
That’s just why you’re here.
Another scrap, another moment joining hundreds of others.