Attack the lion while his guard is down

From Create Your Own Story

Current revision as of 19:09, 10 March 2015

In a rush of calculated insanity, you lash out, praying to whatever god is watching that your tenacity will help you best the larger man. With such hopes in mind you throw a powerful right hook into his neck, where you know it hurts. You feel immense pride when your fist connects solidly. The lion roars and cringes.

He is large, however, and the blow wasn't enough to stop him. He grabs you and tries to flip you onto your stomach. A position from which you can't fight back. His claws dig into you as he wrestles you ferociously. It's not the first time you've wrestled someone bigger than yourself. You had brothers. Even a bully or two back in school. And all that experience taught you a few tricks.

You roll in the direction he wants you to, but use the motion to land your other fist straight into his armpit. A terrific blow to a weak point. He immediately gasps, unable to hold his breath. Surprising strength hides beneath your orange fur. You throw him off, roll to your knees and punch him again. This time in his kidney. After the blow to his ribs he barely has enough air to grunt as you strike him. His movements are more than descriptive of the pain, however. He arcs his back, dropping to the floor so he can clutch his lower back with both hands.

Knowing that you need every advantage you can get against such a large opponent, you dive atop him, snatch his arms and jam them upwards. It's a submission hold you learned from the police on T.V. It's painful, and if he's tough enough--or drugged enough--to ignore the pain, then it will still dislocate his shoulders. It is a victory. You know it, and the lion surely knows it.

Your yellow eyes appraise the situation. You are naked, but on top. Somehow, during the scratching and clawing of the brief fight his pants have been torn off. You see them laying nearby, several long scratches, likely from one of your paws, have torn them nearly in half. What truly holds your attention, however, is where you are sitting. Atop his rump. The lion is prostrate on the ground, panting and growling. His tail is jammed upwards, and your still-hard morning wood rests against his exposed opening. You are a fox, so your thoughts naturally turn towards the opportunity.

As you draw back, preparing to enter him you see his cock, larger than your own and barbed, spread below his legs. It is evidence enough that whatever you do to him, he had intended to do to you. A fox's penis is already wet when it leaves his sheath, but yours also spurts lubricating precum as you grind against him lewdly. He growls, turning his head just far enough towards you that you can see the terrible snarl on his face. "Damn you thief!" He still doesn't understand that it's your home.

"It's my house." You growl back as you press into him. It doesn't take much to force the pointed tip of your member through his tightly clenched pucker. "And now you're mine too." You savor the warmth as it spreads around you. His muscles ripple unhappily, pleasuring you as you go deeper. Eventually you slide the small lump that will become your knot into him.

His tail thrashes angrily and the flexing muscles only heighten your pleasure. But the rest of him does not struggle. He knows the predicament you have him in with the submission hold. You draw yourself out, then thrust back in. It hasn't been long since you had sex, but your body still thrills at the experience. Pumping in and out, your pace quickens.

It isn't long before your knot swells, hormones demanding that you press it in, that you tie yourself to your would-be attacker with the fruit-sized bulge. You obey, ramming the thick spheroid against his resisting tailhole. It doesn't go in immediately. Instead you watch as slowly but surely his flesh stretches around your shaft. He groans.

With a sudden pop your knot lodges within him and your willpower breaks. You feel every muscle in your groin clench and spasm, erupting your watery fox-cum inside of him. The surge of pleasure lasts only a few spurts. Happy hormones, endorphins made naturally by your body rush to your brain. The pleasure is intense.

Your knot ties you to him for ten minutes. It is afterglow. You lay atop his golden fur, your knot wedged happily within him, giving you the pleasant sensation of both victory and ownership. You feel your balls rest atop of his.

Eventually your knot subsides. It is sad, but it is always so. You remove yourself from him silently, your member retracting into your sheath on its own, leaving him wet and used. Standing, you lead him by pulling on his trapped arms, you push him to your apartment door and shove him out.

He stumbles, but doesn't fall. He turns around, flexes his claws and gives you a look of hatred, as if considering a rematch. You discourage the idea by showing him the baseball bat you have near the door. He backs down, and just as you are shutting the door you can see a confused look on his face. He has finally realized that it's not his apartment. With a smirk, you shut the door and turn the lock. He won't try any of that again.

END.