I should be troubled, seeing that I'm pinned between the backboard of the bed owned by a woman I hadn't seen since high school, but I'm not. I don't know how much of this evening, this week has been a choice of my own. The details are like a kaleidoscope, shifting in and out of focus. When I focus on a conversation, my name eludes me. When I feel her paw trace up my sides, sifting through my fur, I'm not sure whether or not I said yes or no to her taking my shirt off in the first place. But the most troubling factor in all of this is that I feel complacent in it all. My body feels larger than me, I'm inhabiting it like you would walk around your home. But her green eyes, Delores, her voice - it fills me. Her name and every word echo off my bones and send shivers through my&nbsp; skin, standing my fur on end And every word every syllable is like a ripple that splashes against the inside of my head. Delores is inside me, outside of me. <br><br>I'm taking my pants off, she asked me to. I'm rubbing my muzzle against her, licking her neck, and I'm feeling tight in my briefs but she's&nbsp; scripted the entire thing. Dylan, take that off. Dylan, relax. It feels good Dylan. She pressed my head against her neck, and I only did what felt natural.&nbsp;&nbsp;I'm obedient. I'm a good man, a good boy. She's so plush. I feel strong enough to lift my own arms up and grope her, sifting through her cream fur, grabbing her rear and hugging her close to my gut (yes, it's a gut, she said so, it's a nice one - she said so). It was a class reunion, I can remember that as I pick up the scent of peaches on her breath when she kisses me. Ten years, I've been out of high school, but living in the town where I graduated made it impossible to dodge. I don't know why Delores bothered to come back. I can remember helping&nbsp; her stuff her belongings into her shoe-string Chevy. When we ran out of&nbsp; space in the back, she didn't want to pack it into the passenger's seat.<br><br>You can't fit in then, she says. <br><br>Don't think I could fit in there even if your junk wasn't in there, Del, I reply. And it was mostly true. I was short enough for a lion, but I also managed to fill a seat in width. I still do, I suppose, but I don't eat quite like I used to when Del was around. She was a weird little Corgi. The tips over her caramel furred ears only came up to the&nbsp; middle of my chest, but she could always manage to grab me by the mane and pull me down to her. I let her get away with&nbsp;&nbsp;Even as she fumbles&nbsp; with her bra, I can still see myself arguing with her, in the window of her car.<br><br>I'm gonna start my business here, Del, I'm staying, I say. She gave me that weird stare again. She's doing it right now, too, where her irises seem to quiver and spin, and her voice shifts, and my whole face can <br>feel her talk. I can't help but stare at them now, but back then I watched the stop sign, instead. It's hard to say no to Delores when she talks like that. Real hard. She starts talking, coo'ing and chattering about anything, nothing at all but with every word your eyes get&nbsp; heavier, and soon it becomes difficult to keep your muzzle up and before you know it you're resting on her chest and she just tells you, tells you all the things you ever needed to hear. We hung out a lot, in high school. She kept me in line, I think. I didn't care much for the classes. After the first month or two after school I'd have read through my textbooks, and just sit and feel my eyes start to burn from staring at the whiteboard. That little corgi would dig one of her fingers into <br>my doughy side until I promised to do my homework. And when I did, well, she'd do the eyes thing. <br><br><br>Dylan, she says to me. So that's my name. Dylan. I grip, and slide my paws up and down her thighs. So soft. Dylan. It rings in my ears, and my whiskers brush against something invisible. Are you a good, boy, Dylan?<br> Are you my good boy, Dylan? I purr, because my tongue feels too thick to talk. I can only see her eyes shimmering in the darkness, spinning, spinning. We're undressed. I shift in the sheets, and I try to keep her <br>looking at my face, not the rest of me. She puts takes me by the wrists and pushes my down on my back on the bed. No, be a good boy. My face feels so hot, how could I disobey her like that? I can be obedient. I'm a good lion. I'm hers. Her breasts are small and round, swaying just a little as she sits up,&nbsp;&nbsp;on my lap. She massages my belly, and I feel soft, like putty in her hands. And when my cock throbs, she twitches, <br>and growls. This is what obedient lions get. She is my reward, she says.<br><br>But I have to hold it. I will hold it, she says I can't anymore. So it has to be true, my dick is hard, and it feels like something's wrapping around it, like a little layer of nothing that dulls the wonder of her sitting down on it. And she sits down slowly, and her moan echoes and ripples through every inch of me. So much grinding, I can see her tail wag behind her as she slides up and down me, pressure building, my own moans escaping my muzzle, my noises mixing with hers, filling my ears and my head, the sounds of our panting coalescing into a cacophany of heavenly noise. I can't lift my hands, my eyes are hardly open and I'm pinned down by this tiny little woman and her heavy voice. I'm helpless.Yes, that's it, hearing me think it just makes me throb harder and&nbsp;&nbsp;I want to recede deeper into myself, let Delores and her voice push me down like I'm a kitten. <br><br>I'm a good...boy, I slur. She moans in agreement. Her claws are digging into my sides as she grabs my&nbsp;&nbsp; chubby handles, and grinds harder. My member feels like it's time to cum, it's time to release. But I can't, <br>it's not time yet. Instead I shiver, and my thighs start to twitch. Not yet, she cries, good lion, she moans. I'm starting to surface, her voice is being pushed out by my own body. I can't hold it, but I have to obey. I have to. It aches all over, my footpaw toes can't curl anymore and my claws are embedded in the bed. I can't see into her eyes, they're shut and her tongue is lolling out of her muzzle, and she crumples over onto me, landing on my gut with a solid whumph. Go, is what manages to come out of her mouth but I'm already climaxing, and I feel myself spurting inside her again and again. I feel warm, inside her. My member's already losing hardness, but I don't pull out, I just roll on my side, and hold her close. She's nuzzling me, cupping my back rolls and playing with them in her paws. Soft, she whispers. It makes me look away, but I'm smiling nonetheless. I feel over the wide curve of her hip, and I feel my breathing slow down. I'm a good boy, I ask her. I know I'm supposed to be a fully-grown beast, but my mind feels different, like its being squished and I can't feel entirely here, even without her talking me down. Her lips feel so good against mine, and she<br> holds them there.<br><br> The best, she says.