The Stratum

It was a box. Or perhaps it's the wooden side of the box with a piece of plastic on the side that you think contains the packing list. Otherwise there will be no visible marks. There is no "vulnerable" (my mind almost always mentally reads it as fajillay) or other clichéd texts. A decent sized box (box?) on the second rung of a small concrete staircase leading to my front door. Look at it for a moment and then lightly push it with your foot. A bit heavy but not bad. I don't have any recent orders, what's the matter?

Shrugs and opens the door. The sun was starting to set behind me and after a long day at work I decided to figure it out inside. with drinks. It's not easy to deal with people at work, but drinking a lot can help. I drink to relax, close my eyes, temporarily imagine a fantasy world, tell the wrong co-workers exactly what I'm thinking, no nodding or laughing. I feel my heart racing and I curse myself for wanting to run away from the woman in the store or the person who is screaming at me right now. The box is not as heavy as I thought, so I dragged it to the living room and placed it in front of the sofa. I'm curious, but when tequila calls my name, I leave it behind and make a sweet cocktail in my little kitchen. The house I rented is perfect for me. A bedroom, a small office, a small flat screen TV, a living room big enough for a sofa and armchair, and a kitchen big enough for a microwave. and oven. maybe. I also know how to turn the stove on and off and I consider this to be an achievement. I know some people use it for cooking, but it's like black magic and I hate to deal with it. I'm trying to convince myself that the swelling around my waist and the general lack of justice is due to approaching 30 (still 27, damn it!) and not all the ramen I eat. or drunk.

So I drink my drink, the glass hits the ice, and I go back to the sofa. I bow my head to look at the box, but my heart wanders. Every evening is the same. I kick myself as a woman. I know I need to unite myself and treat my colleagues better, but in retrospect, this is the way to go. It's easy to think of what I should have done, but I have a bit of a mini panic attack when I'm there and I have to deal with people. When I fight or run away, I always take a step back. Working in a credit department and having to explain to a salesperson why we can't sell to certain customers is stressful. I can almost feel the sweat and chills just by remembering it. It's just too stupid to bother. I do the damn thing to make sure we don't sell to people we're about to give up, but do I have to deal with the blatant salesman who rolls his eyes on me and babbles about it? damn. But the most annoying thing is accepting it. scared When everything I do is my job.

Now you're almost half drunk and take another sip. I can feel my cheeks burning and everything is softening a bit around the edges. Ideally. Exactly where I want to be. to hell for work. I lean forward, open the plastic bag next to the box, and pull out the packing list. It's empty except for my name in plain form. Nothing else. Even after turning it over, everything is empty except for my name. I wonder if it was a joke, but who would make such an effort? I have no friends. I've lived in this city for years and never thought of making friends. Most of the people I have still live on the east coast and live their lives. and children. and whatever. I rarely talk to them online.

Putting my almost empty drink glass on the table next to my cheap used sofa, I lean forward and gently pull over the box. A firm but strong pull lifts it. Stronger pulls with my frustrated muscles and loud squeaks make the top succumb. The top has been removed, but nothing is recognizable inside the box. Big plastic bag and brown. The bag looks like a dry cleaning bag. When I reach out my hand, everything is soft. Damn it. Grab it and pull it out.

And quit again. A large wolf's head is looking at me. It's unrealistic. I see. This is close to reality, but it is not. that's big You know what a wolf looks like, but it doesn't. And the head is connected to something full public time. The biggest reason I was surprised is that I have a weakness for werewolves. werewolf. The fur is not mine. what's this? In general, people in large plush costumes are almost like a large stuffed toy. There was no objection to them, but it was never mine. They don't feel real to me and that's what I want. realism. That is what excites me. So I look at this head and this is what I see. werewolf. A really well-made werewolf head.

Now I'm looking back. I have werewolf porn on my computer. Mostly pictures, a few stories and a few video clips. My reflex is to wonder if someone spyed on my computer and sent it... What? Blackmail? When I calm down I realize how much that doesn`t make sense. Why would they? Why pay money for something that looks that realistic and then send it to me? If they were going to make fun of me or make me feel bad, a letter or something would've done it.

Too many windows in here. I leave the lid but pick up the box and bring it to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. The two small windows are already closed so I close the door and take a minute to look around for the bogeyman. It's a stupid thing but it makes me relax. Only now I feel like checking the rest of the house, calling myself stupid the entire time. My hands are sweating and my heart is pounding. The cupboard is empty, the door is locked, and the window is closed. There is nothing under the bed or in the closet. Go back to my room and box.

Look again for a moment. A simple but well made wooden box. Damn it. Take out the plastic bag and lay it on the bed. This... you see something slipping out of the bag, throwing the plastic into a corner and leaving something on the bed. Is it a suit? fur suit. But not as I have seen. Smells like a little chemical latex? rubber? Hell if I know.

Breasts. Distinct lack of penis. It's a female werewolf fursuit. Extremely realistic. It's hard for me to see. Shaking hands, I laid him on the bed. There is a zipper from the neck to the lower abdomen. very little lightning. The suit is shrunk, but you can see that he is taller than me. I can't stop looking at boobs and pussy all my life. The pussy is hidden under the fur, but the chest is full and not constricted at all. They lie rather flat and you can see hints of thick nipples through the very realistic fur. Its tail is thick and a little bushy, but its chest is... hesitating, reaching out and stopping. Licking my lips, I reach out and touch. Definitely some kind of rubber but I can feel the nipples and I think I might be leaking precum because I'm so fucking turned on. The fur is soft and I have no idea what it's made out of but it's incredibly real feeling.

I trace my hand down the breast to the deflated stomach, feeling the bumps where hard muscles would be but instead finding formed rubber fake muscles. The "skin" under the fur is smooth and an interesting texture. My finger goes down to the thigh and then I touch the tuft of fur above the thing's clit. I dig a little to find the pussy. The pussy lips are delicate and there's a hole that opens into the interior of the suit. I step back to look again.

My hand is on my pants. I'm rubbing myself and my heart is hammering in my chest. Too crazy. I've never really looked for fursuits online but in my accidental Internet browsing, I've never seen anything close to this kind of detail. I couldn't even imagine what it would cost. Or, why it's here. I've never told anyone about my fetish. Ever. I don't know enough about computers but I've heard the stories about people hacking into people's computers but, again, why do that and then send something like this? None of it makes sense. God. i want to bounce It excites me more than any other eroticism I have ever had. pictures or something.

Turning over, the buttocks are a bit soft. It takes some time to sort everything out, but I do it. Laying the arms out and up, fingers straight out. The claws for the thing are actually sharp and hard. I have no idea what they're made out of. The tail is connected at the end of the tailbone but it's floppy and I can lay it to the side. Classic position now doggy style. It even has a small anus under its light fur. I find it funny to think about it, but this one has a nice ass. Even the shrunken suit is round and strong.

To Hell. When I masturbate, I usually use wet wipes to hold onto my semen, but otherwise I use my bare hands. But there is a bottle of lubricant for special occasions. I take off my clothes and avoid my reflection in the mirror. Yes, I am ashamed of my body. I do not continue. I keep telling myself I go to the gym, but I always have an excuse. So I'm chubby. Garbage. And I'm confused as to what I'm trying to do. The lube bottle is slippery and uncomfortable to hold, but I ignore it and stand behind the suit and bring it to bed. My dick, a respectable 7" is throbbing and there is some precum at the tip. I think about it again but I can't seem to stop myself. A squirt or two of lube and my dick is slick with it. I rub some off of my fingers and onto the thing's pussy lips, pushing my fingers in and pretending it's real.

Wipe off as much lubricant from your legs as possible, then place your hand on the hip of the suit and push it away. embarrassed. They are soft, but still part of the fur suit. It's easier for me to see the pussy from behind and I point my dick at it. It's not at all like a hole going straight into a suit, so I can only feel it around my dick in the hole. I close my eyes and lean forward and pretend. After going in and out several times, the suit finally slipped without sticking. It feels almost real.

I will omit the embarrassing part of my voice. Pussy doesn't squeeze my dick, but the feeling of the fur underneath me and the triggering of my imagination come suddenly. Much. It's not that strange, Lord Jesus, I'm still having a hard time. It takes a few more minutes for the exhaustion to become angry. I watch me do this to see what it looks like when I take my dick out of the wolf's pussy. A portion of my semen was clinging to my cock and to the hair around the pussy of the costume, but not much. I'm still half stiff and short of breath. I can't stop watching this. Detailed. On the back, the shoulder blades and muscle outlines, the tendons of the neck leading to the head, and even the back of the head are a mixture of thick fur and long brown hair from the human part of a werewolf. They have ribs along their snout and teeth, but no tongue. The teeth are not real, but they are hard and sharp as claws. I can cut them myself.