Vixy woke to a dim red sky and she lay yawning in the shadow of the acacia watching the westward clouds melt into the sunset. She heard distant birds squawking and a light wind brushing the grass. Her vibrant coat appeared washed in the glow of dusk. For once the coming darkness brought her no comfort, for her soul did not belong to the savanna.

When the air was colder and the sun fell below the rim of the world, the fox rose from her makeshift nest and dusted herself. She weaved her delicate steps through the gnarled shadows of this parched land. Head low, nose twitching. Grass swishing behind her. The droning of insects hid her pawsteps. Between the clouds were stars that shimmered in the day’s leftover heat and she walked until there was nothing but stars and grass and she was thankful for their light.

By the morning, the fox stood at the shore of a shallow creek, eyeing a patch of soft undergrowth on the other side. The jungle was bright with scattered sunlight. It was so warm and comfortable to be surrounded by bamboo and vine-wrapped trees. “Just a bit further.” She yawned, wading across the cold water. “Just a bit further.”

***

I’ve tracked the red fox since the moment she entered my jungle. I stalked her in the cold starlight as she walked, tail high, blissful and unaware. I crossed the stream in her pawsteps. Everything in my jungle belonged to me. This little lady would be no different.

There she lay asleep in the soft grass, her cerise fur gleaming in the sun. Hot wind whisked her scent towards me and I took it in. Shivers down my back. Was that sweetberries I smelled? Or perhaps she was just sweet like a fox. Like a delicious fox in heat.

I could claim her right now.

It wouldn’t be difficult for an expert hunter like me. My paws are silent on the jungle floor. I would slowly approach the sleeping fox from behind and take her while she was still asleep. My whiskers against her body heat. My teeth around her scruff. My tongue exploring deep within her.

But not yet. Do not forget the plan.

I faked a bird call that woke the fox. I watched from afar as she stretched herself and explored the bushes around her. Then she turned down the narrow path that led into the jungle. Yes. Go deeper. I have a surprise for you, my love.

Silently, I toed through the forest in the wake of her scent. Watching her run her nose along the moss-covered forest floor. She found the first berry and took it in her cute little snout. Her tail twitched with pleasure.

I watched her eyes light up as she found another. I’d laid them out a few dozen paces apart. Soon, she was prancing and eating. Each step brought her closer to my trap.

Closer and closer.

At last, the red fox stood on the patch of vines I arranged earlier in the day. She was tugging at the final clump of sweetberries. Yes. Go on. Just a little harder.

Fwump! Vines snapped around the fox. She yelped. Leaves fluttered in midair. When all was settled, the fox hung off a tree a short distance from the ground, tangled in a mess of vines, swaying back and forth helplessly.

Gotcha.

I hid behind a tree and watched the little lady whimper cutely as she struggled to escape her bonds. Her eyes were frantic. Her paws sliced the air as if she was swimming. So cute.

This time I made sure to broadcast my steps. Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch. I made a wide circle around the fox. The bushes moved when I swished my tail. In my cover, I watched the fox’s eyes widen.

“W-who’s there?” Her voice trembled.

“Who’s there,” I repeated. I kept my voice low.

“H–help me!” she said. “I’m stuck.”

“Oh, I know you’re stuck.”

“I can’t get out.” The fox thrashed in her bindings. “Can you help me?”

I stepped from the jungle bush and sashayed in front of her. My long tail flicked along her tender neck. I felt her tremble. “You ask, for my help,” I said with a hint of predatory glee.

The fox gasped at the sight of me. “Please don’t hurt me, Mr. Ocelot.”

I went around the fox and tugged on her tail with my teeth. She whimpered. Then I nuzzled her neck and bit the soft black tip of her ear. “What’s your name, little lady?” I whispered down the length of her neck.

“Please.”

“That’s not your name.”

“It’s… Vixy.”

“Such a pretty name for such a pretty fox. Too pretty to be out here alone, all alone in this daaangerous jungle. Wouldn’t you say so, Vixy?”

She gulped and shook her head. Her ears folded back.

“What, cat got your tongue?” I leaned into Vixy and sniffed her fur. She was scented like the jungle creek with hints of berries. I ran a claw along the white fur of her belly, where I knew it would be the most sensitive. With my teeth bared, I nibbled on the softness of Vixy’s inner thigh. I bit her ribcage and felt her shiver. A mix of tender fear and anticipation.

“A-are you going to eat me, Mr. Ocelot?”

“Maaaaaybe.”

“Please don’t eat me.”

“But, but,” I said in a fake stutter. “You’re just so tasty-looking, all tied up and helpless in my jungle.”

“I’m begging you, Mr. Ocelot,” she said. “Just let me go and I’ll leave your jungle forever.”

“Leave? Oh my dear Vixy, you just got here! Don’t you want to have some fun before you leave?”

The fox shook her head, whimpering softly.

“Maybe not.” I laughed, flexing my tail. I brushed against her side as I walked behind her. “But I would be such a terrible host if I let you leave before filling you up.”

“I’m not hungry, sir.” Vixy tried to twist her body to follow me. “Just — just let me go.”

“Shh, shh. Little fox. There’s more than one way to be full.”

I lifted the fox’s black-tipped tail and ran a claw across the her glistening slit. She was so wet. Her scent was so intoxicating. She swayed to my touch, gasping her little gasps.

Now I leaned in. When my barbed tongue touched her sex, Vixy moaned with her tail twitching madly. I danced my tongue against her labia. Around and around. Pushing her limits. Dancing around her clit and feeling her pleasure ripple into my body. Slowly, I worked my tongue into her wetness. Exploring her insides. All those delicious books and crannies for me to taste. She swung helplessly and she talked nonsense between the gasps. A babbling mess of pleasure.

Finally, when she was shaking in ecstasy and on the verge of orgasm, I pulled back.

She turned, swaying in her bondage, and looked at me pleadingly. She was panting.

“Still want to leave?” I grinned.

“No Mr Ocelot,” Vixy gasped. “Keep going. Fill me up. I’ll be your good little fox.”