Mira, Mira, on the Wall
a work-in-progress by Vikki

Miranda groaned softly as she rolled over in bed. Wiping away the crusty residue of tears on her lilac pillow cover, she opened her eyes to once again stare at the painted cement wall across from her. Lights from the street and from the adjacent dorm building filtered through the dusty, tan Venetian blinds of the window, casting pale streaks of illumination across her roommate's furniture, posters, and scattered belongings. The small vixen tried unsuccessfully to block thoughts of her own belongings; a duffle bag in the corner containing all she owned had been carefully packed that afternoon, just minutes after she'd received the letter from the Dean's office. 

The letter had been short, but concise. It didn't need to be very long anyway, as it only contained more precise details of what she'd already known was coming. She'd actually started to put her affairs in order days ago when the academy ruled to disband the gymnastics team. It wasn't fair, and some students had protested the decision, but it wasn't a concern for enough of the student body to cause much of a stir - and even the protestors eventually gave up after the council pointed to the 'zero-tolerance' policy already on the books. 

Miranda was heartbroken. Because one teammate had tested positive for feraltech, the team was gone. With no team, her athletic scholarship and only means of support were also gone. She couldn't qualify for financial aid because her parents were wealthy. She couldn't get help from her parents because she'd been disowned since coming out in her last year of high school. She couldn't even be emancipated. And so her dream of being an animalympian and professional dancer were over before she'd even really begun.

Sighing miserably, she pushed herself up and sat in bed, resting her back against the wall and tucking her knees under her chin. She was at once both glad and depressed that her roommate Syrah wasn't around: glad she wasn't there to see her feeling sorry for herself, and depressed because at that moment she wanted nothing more than to profess her secret love for the gorgeous mink - to feel her soft arms and silken prehensile tail wrap around her, to hear her soothing voice drip honeyed words of comfort in her ear. 

"Sweet Maker, I'm so pathetic..."

Through the painted cement block wall next to her bed, she could faintly hear the sounds of their lapine neighbor and her Doberman boyfriend going at each other like ferals. She usually found it annoying, especially when studying, but tonight she'd give anything to feel such passion and desire. But, lacking that...

"I'll just have to take matters into my own hands." Miranda crawled off her bed and pulled her sleeveless white cotton T-shirt over her head. She folded it neatly and laid it on her bed, along with her sports bra and panties. She stood there naked for a short while, just listening to the night sounds and variations of "Yes! Harder! Oh gawd-!" that wafted through the wall. The cool room air felt as nice against her fur as it did against her warm pussy and she took her time to enjoy the way the subtle breezes and currents made her tingle. A voice in the back of her mind urged her to start pleasuring herself, predicting it wouldn't be long before her depression returned and ruined the first good diversion she'd had all day. A second voice countered, urging her to take her time and make it last as long as she possibly could. She ran her hands through her silky grey fur, twisting and stretching her back until her muscles released their tension in a series of satisfying pops. The first voice sounded too much like desperation. She'd have time to give into that later. For now she would use her resignation to her advantage and follow the second voice.

Slowly, she slipped over to the sliding closet doors on the side of the room opposite the windows. She'd always been conscientious about respecting her roommate's privacy, even though the mink had never seemed particularly concerned by it. Despite trying to avert her eyes whenever Syrah opened her closet, she'd still managed to catch tantalizing glimpses of the contents - including an exotic negligée she had ardently wished to see her in someday. It wouldn't happen now, but if nothing else she could have it nearby, amplifying the scent of her secret love in her imagination.

She had a fantasy already in mind, but this time she'd have a scent to go with it. Sliding the wooden door to the side, she gazed into Syrah's wardrobe. What she saw was far more than she expected. Hanging next to the silk and lace were items made of a gleaming black alien material. Daintily lifting one of the shiny folded piles from the padded drawer, she peeled apart and stretched the puddle of ink between her fingers until she recognized it as a pair of panties. They had a strange, yet vaguely familiar scent which was masked slightly by a faint dusting of something sweet inside.

She could almost see her own reflection in the polished surface, distorted as she stretched and relaxed the elastic material. "Oh Syrah...how I would have loved to see you in these." 

She could almost envision them, wrapped and sealed furtight against the mink's sleek, perfectly-formed derriere. A vivid image suddenly leapt to her mind: her tongue slowly gliding up between Syrah's thighs along the glossy material, tracing along the vacu-formed petals of her flower. She blinked her eyes as the image faded, blushing as she found her tongue extended mid-lick against the crotch of the panties. Though her phantom lover was gone, she somehow detected the scent of her roommate more strongly than before.