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Otherworld Vixens	By : Gideon_Kalve_Jarvis Category: +M through R > Robin Hood (Disney) > Robin Hood (Disney) Views: 7429 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's Robin Hood, Digimon, nor StarFox, nor any characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Otherworld Vixens
- 1
Otherworld Vixens
By Gideon Kalve Jarvis
Note: Robin Hood and Maid Marion © Disney; Krystal © Rareware; Renamon © Toei Animation. I do not own Disney, StarFox, or Digimon or any of the characters within these fandoms, nor do I make any profit from this story. This is an adult-rated fan work – feel free to distribute as you like, but please be sure to give credit to the author.
She was in trouble, that much was clear. The blue-furred vixen frowned as she looked over the controls of her ship, then scowled in frustration.
“That random warp jump’s thrown me light years from anything remotely civilized,” said Krystal, shaking her head. “I’m smack in the middle of unexplored territory. It would never have happened if I wasn’t distracted.” She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Why couldn’t my heat have held off until after the dogfight with those Venomese fighters?”
Shaking her head as she fixed her halter top, adjusting the fine fabric holding the seashell-shaped cups carefully before she surveyed the damage done to her ship. Sparks were popping out of several blown panels, while flashing lights told her clearly that something was seriously wrong. It would take some work to coax even sublight speeds out of the poor beleaguered craft, let alone the light speeds Krystal would need to get home on her own.
“Looks like I’ll have to make a landing on some backwater planet,” said the shapely blue-furred vixen resignedly, looking at her navigation console. “Hmm, this one looks like it should suffice: good nitrogen/oxygen mix, high carbon count indicating abundant life . . . huh,” her eyebrows raised. “It looks almost like my home planet’s readings, except a little bit cooler. It’s just teeming with life.” Krystal smirked then. “I just hope it’s friendly, because until the distress beacon from my ship crosses those light years between me and the Great Fox, I’m going to be hanging around a while.” She frowned. “Maybe even years, since this place is so far off the beaten track. Well, at least I’ve got some good books stored in the memory of the ship’s computers.”
Settling back into the chair of her fighter, Krystal gently guided the damaged craft towards the bright blue and green orb floating in space before her.
* * *
“Diamond Storm!”
A dazzling hail of gleaming razor-edged icy gems tore through the Ogremon that had gotten too close for comfort, making the others hold back, grumbling to each other as they eyed the object of their desires. The yellow-furred Renamon pressed herself back against the smooth surface of the digital mountains behind her, her lips curled back in a threatening snarl at the male digimon who’d cornered her there. She was in the middle of a searing heat, her body wanting so badly to make a digi egg. But that could only take place after an infusion of raw data from a male, and she refused that privilege to any male she deemed unworthy. She’d even spread the false rumor that digimon lacked gender while she’d been on Earth, so as to avoid being pestered by potential human suitors, which would only have added to the complications in her life.
Renamon had fled from the digimon communities as her heat reached its peak, only to have males from all over follow her. She was a legendary figure, having once saved the world from the D-Reaper, and the chance to breed her was something that males from all over the digital world desired. It was also one that none of them would ever have, if she had her say in the matter.
“Looks like I might not,” Renamon growled to herself as she looked around for some way out. “Cowards couldn’t take me on their own, so they’re ganging up. I’m raped for sure, unless . . .”
A small smile creased the edges of her short, sharp muzzle as Renamon spotted a slight ledge, high above her on the smooth digital cliffs. Without another word, just as the teeming crowd of eager males started to close in, she bent her legs and gave a mighty leap, landing right on the edge of the small rocky outcropping. Without stopping, she took off running straight towards the cliff wall once more, jumping upwards at the last moment, so that her speeds could keep building as her paws hit the vertical slope, her legs pumping hard, her teeth gritting as she began to race right up the side of the cliff.
“That . . . was harder than it looked,” panted Renamon as she came to a stop at the very top of the cliffs and dropped to her knees for a moment to catch her breath. Then she looked over her shoulder, down at the teeming mob below and the few who were already taking off after her, using whatever forms of flight they had to continue the pursuit. “I can’t keep this up forever. There’s got to be some way to . . .” she trailed off as her eyes fell on a cave jutting out from the top of the high plateau on which she was now resting. “Maybe I can hide in there.”
Thought soon became action, and Renamon rose to her feet and ran to the cave, racing inside. Finding a flight of stairs leading into the darkness below, she raced down, three steps at a time, following the winding stairway deep, deep into the mountain. After what seemed like hours, she touched down at the bottom of the stairs, breathing a bit hard, drops of sweat beading on her lithe, athletic body (since she was a digimon, a product of human tampering into digital realms, Renamon perspired as well as being able to use panting to cool off) as she leaned over to rest her hands on her knees, catching her breath. Her head lifted after a few moments, and her eyes widened at the scene before her. There, set into the solid rock of the far end of the cave, in an arch adorned with strange carvings and odd symbols, was a gleaming, swirling vortex of many-colored light that seemed to extend off far beyond Renamon’s ability to see, interspersed with occasional flashes of scenes from a bright, green world, so much like the planet Earth she remembered and loved so well. As she watched, though, she would see the light start to dim, the colors already beginning to waver like ripples in a pond.
“It’s a digi portal!” exclaimed Renamon, her face breaking into one of her rare, real smiles. “And it’s about to close. Even if those pathetic males do get here, they won’t be able to follow me until the portal opens again – and that could take months, or even years.”
Renamon didn’t hesitate, her decision made in a flash. Her salvation from her pursuers had presented itself, and who was she to spit in the face of such fortunate circumstance? Just as the shining portal began to close inwards upon itself, like the iris of a camera lens, Renamon leapt forward, diving right through the middle of the portal, vanishing into the swirling realms beyond, her destination unknown.
* * *
“Alone at last, my darling,” said the handsome, green-clad fox, turning briefly from the pan he was holding over a small fire to smile at the shapely young vixen who was just then crawling from a good-sized tent at the base of a great oak tree. She was dressed only in a scandalously filmy nightgown that left little of her figure to the imagination, though keeping just enough hidden that those concealed parts would drive the imagination wild. Her head was bare, though she held her chiffon-draped hat in her hands. “Good morning, my beautiful Maid Marion. How would you like your eggs?”
“Maid no longer, dearest Robin Hood,” said the vixen with a smile that could melt stone as she tied her headdress back on (for what decent woman would be without a head covering in public?) and coming fully from the tent to kneel behind the fox, her delicate hands stroking along his firm chest, covered by his soft leather tunic. “You did an admirable job of dealing with that obstacle last night,” she murmured sensually in his ear. “Or had you already forgotten? And sunny-side up, please.”
“How could I forget the most wonderful event of my life, my dearest Marion?” replied Robin, turning his head to smile at his mate. “But I suppose that I’m as much a hood now as you are a maid, wouldn’t you say?”
“You’ll always be a hood to me, you scoundrel,” laughed Marion teasingly, slipping away from her mate with a saucy wink. “Always finding new ways to steal my heart.”
“Then I suppose you’ll always be a maid for me,” answered Robin, forking out the sausage and egg he’d been cooking onto a plate and handing it to his mate before preparing a plate for himself. “Since I expect that, with you, every time will be like the first, always learning something new and exploring a part of you I never knew existed.”
“That sounds fair to me,” said Marion as she seated herself on a log across from Robin, taking the fork he’d set on her plate and taking a bite. “Mmm – these are good!”
“Comes from being a bachelor these many years,” laughed Robin as he took a bite of his own and grinned in a manner that was at once lecherous and charming, as only he could manage. “And it’s just as well – we’ll need all the strength we can get for the fun we’ll be having on our honeymoon. After all, that heat of yours couldn’t be better timed, and I think we should get the most out of it as possible, don’t you?”
“Oh yes!” exclaimed Marion eagerly, clasping her dainty hands together, before she realized how unladylike she was behaving, and the white fur of her cheeks turned a precious pink color as she looked down sheepishly. “I mean . . . well, if it’s all right to enjoy such sinful acts as these.”
“We’re married now, my dearest,” said Robin, standing up and setting his unfinished food aside so that he could go to his mate, cupping her chin in one gentle hand, his eyes meeting hers as his soft, pleasant voice caressed her mind soothingly, making it so easy for her to want him to seduce her, to believe anything he said and make it reality. “We can do anything we want, so long as we are completely honest with each other about it, and have each other’s permission. The only sin I see would be if either of us stopped loving the other. That would be unforgivable.”
Marion met those eyes, and let them take her away as she lifted her muzzle and Robin lowered his, kissing her, sweet and warm and passionate. Marion set her own plate on the log beside her as they drew even closer, the kiss soon taking them down, until they were lying on the soft grass beneath the old oak tree where Robin Hood and Little John had once camped while they lived in Sherwood Forest, robbing the rich to give to the poor. Robin meant what he said about honesty, for he’d known other women, of many species, and made love to them as well, but he’d made no secret of this to Marion even when they’d first met, letting her know full-well what he’d done, and what he was like. For her part, Marion loved him all the same, and somehow realized that it was unfair for her to keep such an incredibly sexy male as Robin Hood all to herself. After all, who could resist the dashing rogue, with his winning manners and courtly grace, none of which ever slipped, even when he was in the middle of a highway robbery? But he’d had his choice of any girl he could want, Marion knew, even noble girls of higher rank and wealth and still greater beauty. Yet despite this, he’d chosen to court and to marry her. Whatever he had done, and whatever he might do, she knew that he loved her, and she loved him, dearly and deeply. And after all, as the saying went, what was sauce for the gander was indeed sauce for the goose – even if the very thought of such a thing made the sweet young vixen blush even more hotly as she moaned beneath her dearest mate, letting him do such wonderful things to her with his hands and his nibbling muzzle and gently lapping tongue, working down her body with masterful skill, overwhelming her senses, one by one.
Then it happened. Suddenly the air was split by a sound greater than thunder and a fire mightier than lightning, and for a moment the whole forest shook, blasted by a great wind. The foxes looked up in time to see a twin flash of light, one from the passing of a great craft overhead, and the other from a strange tear that formed in the blue sky, swirling colors showing through the rent in the fabric of reality. The craft, which looked something like a bird, despite obviously being a made thing rather than a natural one, had struck the portal, and it was from this that the double flash of light had come. The craft was thrown off its former straight course by this, sending it careening downwards, while the sharp eyes of the great archer Robin Hood narrowed as he saw a slim yellow-and-white figure falling from the portal, into the forest a short few miles away.
“What . . . what was that?” asked Maid Marion, her eyes wide and fearful as she stood, forgetting about her state of undress, her head turning to follow the fall of the ship (for she didn’t seem to have seen the tiny falling figure seen by Robin, lacking his keen farsightedness). “I’ve never heard tell of anything like that before, not even in the old books that charlatan Sir Hiss kept.”
“I don’t know, my dearest,” said Robin seriously as he rose. “But whatever has come to Sherwood Forest, it’s landed around Blue Lake. That’s less than a mile from here, hardly anything for us to walk. Come on – we’ll soon get to the bottom of this.”
* * *
Krystal gave a soft whimper as she unbuckled the straps holding her in her seat, smoke rising all around her. The Arwing was sunk in the muddy shallows of a large pond, which was perhaps the only reason why the blue-furred vixen was still alive and the ship might still be salvaged.
Popping the hatch with a soft hiss of decompression, trusting in her ship’s sensors about the suitability of this strange new planet’s atmosphere, Krystal rose from her seat and clambered out of the cockpit, resting on the rim of the pilot’s seat as she looked the ship over. She’d seen a yellow foxlike being strike her ship, surrounded with a nimbus of rainbow colors, before the two had parted ways, hurtling down towards this body of water. As Krystal leaned over to retrieve a gunbelt from her cockpit (for her assailant was likely close, and hadn’t seemed injured much by the collision), she discovered that her halter had been badly torn, for it fluttered off into the seat. Sighing at yet another thing gone wrong today, she reached in and grabbed one of the vests that Fox left in the Arwing, tugging it on. It covered her breasts, and that was sufficient for the time being. She didn’t bother to zip up the vest, since she didn’t like its weight or the uncomfortable feel of such a thing on her body anyway, preferring the lighter garb of her home, but forced to make do with what she had. She then strapped on the gunbelt, and slid down the side of the Arwing, landing in the shallows that went up to her slim ankles, drawing the blaster pistol as her eyes began to scan the surrounding lush greenery.
The attack came almost an instant later. Krystal, for all her training in combat, was only able to roll to the side in the nick of time, diving onto the shore and rolling to safety, saved by a hint of danger sense and a glimpse of a yellow reflection in the water before the place where she’d just been standing burst outward in an explosion of steaming water.
Rising to her feet, holding out her blaster at the ready, Krystal saw her attacker clearly for an instant. She (for the being was obviously female) was standing in the midst of the rising steam of her strange attack, walking calmly towards the shore where Krystal stood, her breasts concealed with a light ruff of fur, her forearms covered with odd, crystalline-looking bracers with swirling black symbols on them, the strange vixen-creature’s only clothing. Not that she really had anything that deserved to be concealed, for her body was strong, well-toned with incredible athleticism that showed even through her lush yellow fur, slender and statuesque. Truthfully, had they been in a different set of circumstances, Krystal might have been tempted to seduce the strong female before her, as she had Fara Phoenix, the mate of her beloved Fox McCloud, for while she enjoyed the presence of males, her culture had no taboos against females sharing company and pleasure as well.
“Don’t come any closer,” warned Krystal, hoping that the other vixen could understand her language, lifting the blaster and letting it hum as it warmed up a powerful shot she hoped would be enough to stop this strange alien being with unknown and incredible powers. “I’ll shoot.”
* * *
Renamon knew the blue-furred one was a threat from the moment she’d picked up the gunbelt, for if she were peaceful, she wouldn’t have needed the weapon when Renamon was obviously as much a victim of their collision as the blue-furred one’s ship. She didn’t intend to kill this strange blue creature (who was obviously not a digimon, though what she might actually be was a mystery to Renamon), but she realized that she’d need to subdue her before she could get any information out of the blue-furred alien.
The yellow-furred digimon knew that her digi-heat was clouding her senses, especially now that she was in a world composed of flesh and blood, for she couldn’t help but let her dark eyes play over the sleek young female before her. Her fur was a truly lovely shade of deep blueberry blue, her trim-but-ample chest, flat belly and sensual thighs a delicate powder blue that was almost white in places, a full view hidden from sight only by a pretty loincloth with interesting patterns delicately stitched on it, and a leather flight jacket that served to conceal only the most essential of the blue alien vixen’s feminine attributes. Though Renamon had only twice before mated with male digimon she’d respected sufficiently, she’d managed her periods of heat reasonably well in the company of female digimon, and realized that she might yet be able to turn this situation to her advantage, and not simply as a means of gaining information.
“Don’t come any closer,” said the alien vixen as she pointed the small weapon she was holding at Renamon, “I’ll shoot.”
Renamon allowed herself a slight smirk at this, an instant before she moved.
* * *
The yellow-furred alien moved fast! Krystal’s honed reflexes were all that let her manage a single shot, which was unfortunately turned to the side by one of the crystalline bracers, before the other vixen was on her, knocking the blaster from her small hands and into the underbrush surrounding the lake, then grappling her, turning her around, holding her arms behind her back.
“Now you will talk to me,” said the yellow-furred vixen, her voice calm and reasonable-sounding, as though there were nothing unusual about this situation. “I want you to answer my questions, and then we can talk things over in a rational manner. Is this suitable to you?”
“You won’t get anything out of me, alien!” snarled Krystal, doing her best to look and sound ferocious, though she only managed a halfway decent facsimile of intimidation, which didn’t seem to phase her assailant in the least. The foot she brought down on one of the large feet of the yellow vixen phased her, though. When the yellow-furred alien’s grip lessened from the pain of that sudden attack, Krystal rushed forward, trying to go for the pistol that had been batted away. Krystal didn’t get much time, though, and an instant later, well before she’d gotten more than three steps, she felt a strong hand grabbing her loincloth, pulling her back. Reaching down, Krystal quickly undid one of the knots on the side of her loincloth, and let it flutter into the breeze as she raced towards the gun, lying on the edge of the forest surrounding the lake.
Renamon was more than a little distracted as her opponent’s loincloth came away in her hand, her mouth dropping open as she watched the blue-furred bare bottom of the other vixen as she ran for her gun, her only clothing now her unzipped vest. But this was potentially a life-or-death struggle if Renamon didn’t keep that gun away from the alien she-fox, and the digimon dropped the loincloth in her hand to race after the blue-furred one. Renamon’s legs were stronger, still charged with digital energy from her homeworld, and she quickly caught up, a powerful backhanded swing of one long arm sending the other vixen rolling back onto the soft grass near the edge of the lake.
Krystal landed on her front, the wind knocked out of her. She soon forced herself to begin to rise, pushing up with hands, desperate to keep resisting, when suddenly the strong hands of the yellow vixen were there once more, grappling her, one powerful hand holding both her slim wrists behind her back, pulling her back and up until she was in a kneeling position.
“Wh-what do you want with me?” said Krystal, her voice a fearful whimper as she looked up into the dark eyes of the exotic alien vixen who now held her in her clutches. “What are you going to do to me?”
“I just wanted some information about where I am,” said Renamon, a surprisingly pleasant smile on her face as she actually nuzzled Krystal’s cheek, her free hand now grazing lightly through the delightfully soft fur of the sweet young vixen’s chest, brushing her vest open, exposing her plump, apple-sized breasts, and then sliding gently down her trim tummy, trailing ever downward. “But I think that there are some other things I will enjoy having as well, right now.”
“Oh no,” whimpered Krystal, squirming against the impossibly strong grip of her captor, but finding escape impossible, caught between fear at being in the clutches of a stranger, and arousal at what was about to happen, and for largely the same reasons. “P-please, let me go. I’m sorry I drew the gun on you – just don’t . . . oooooh!”
Renamon’s fingers were thick and strong, and she easily slid them between her lovely young captive’s thighs, grinding the heel of her palm upward, just before her questing fingers found the sweet, tight, wet place she wanted, and began to carefully press inside. The precious blue-furred vixen gave the most adorable whimper at this, biting her bottom lip, her back arching, tail involuntarily hiking as Renamon found her clitoris, which, astonishingly enough, was a similar blue color as her darker-colored fur, stroking the lovely young female’s love button until the boundaries between consent and resistance grew too blurry to really distinguish. Krystal’s vision clouded with a lusty red, her thighs trembling, the fur down there soaked in her own juices. She watched, her cheeks flushed, gasping for breath, as Renamon lifted her fingers, wrapping the lips of her short muzzle around each one in turn, and suckling them perfectly clean, making sure that Krystal could see this clearly, drawing out the action slowly and deliberately.
“You taste so good,” said Renamon, her voice husky with lust. “Like nothing I’ve ever tasted before – sweet, like the juice of berries. I’m going to have to drink your juices straight from the source, to get the full flavor.”
Krystal shook her head, managing only a single, feeble whimper and some halfhearted struggling as her assailant undid the gunbelt around her slim waist, and wrapped it around her wrists, cinching them together nice and tight. What the yellow-furred digi-vixen might have done next Krystal didn’t know, but she didn’t find out, for quite suddenly a strong, masculine voice broke into the lust-filled desperation of her reeling senses.
“Let her go!”
Renamon’s head snapped to the side, her eyes narrowing as she caught sight of the newcomer. Standing there, obviously just having stepped from the bushes, was a slender but muscular male fox, his fur a shade of brownish red, clad in green breeches and a green tunic, a yellow hat with a long feather perched jauntily on his head. The tod had a longbow in his hands, and had it aimed unerringly right between Renamon’s ruff-concealed breasts, while a longsword hung from his belt. Krystal turned her head a moment later, her reactions slowed from the working-over that Renamon had given her estrus-riven body, and looked up at the male pleadingly, while Renamon instead gave a slight snort and rose to her feet, shoving the bound blue vixen aside as she lifted her large, three-fingered hands in readiness to fight.
“Come on, then,” said Renamon, her voice cool, devoid of passion as she let herself sink into her battle mindset. “You’ll have to take her if you want her. That’s the way we digimon operate.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, miss,” said the tod as he started to move forward, towards Krystal. “Please, it doesn’t have to be like this. Come on – I’ve got some breakfast waiting just a little bit off. We can settle down by the fire, maybe find out where you’re from, and why you’re here – maybe I can help you.”
Renamon found herself enraptured by the male’s voice for a moment. It was soft, deep, and had an appealingly honest, pure quality to it that was as charming as it was disarming. But then, as she saw the male coming nearer, the yellow-furred digimon started to her senses, and leapt suddenly into the air, her hands shooting out.
“Diamond Storm!”
* * *
Maid Marion had been following right behind Robin Hood as they’d crept through the woods. While she wasn’t nearly as woodwise as her mate, she was nevertheless quite good at being quiet, a talent she’d perfected from her years in the palace of Prince John, trying to keep from being noticed by the tax-crazed, thumb-sucking tyrant. She’d turned to the side suddenly as they neared the shore of Blue Lake, hearing a noise nearby through the bushes, and been quite shocked at the sight that had met her eyes.
Two strangely-colored females, both of them apparently vixens, though not of any kind that Marion had ever seen before, were struggling on the ground. The blue-furred female was a skilled fighter, but she was nowhere as strong or skilled as the yellow-furred one, who soon pinned her, binding the blue vixen’s wrists behind her back. What followed next, however, caused Marion to raise a hand to her slim, pretty muzzle to stifle a gasp. Holding the smaller female firmly, the yellow-furred female began to tease her hands over that soft-looking blue fur. Marion might have been able to muster up more of the disgust at public displays of affection that had been drilled into her from her youth, if only the slim blue vixen hadn’t started to make such wonderfully naughty sounds as her body was teased and stroked. Females weren’t supposed to do such things with each other, or so Marion had been taught. But now, her heat still so strong upon her, her eyes fixed upon the pair of beautiful females before her as they squirmed together in an erotic embrace, the scent of female arousal and shared estrus hitting her nostrils, adding further clouding to her mind . . . it made it hard to hold onto her moral compass, already well off-kilter from the sensual pleasure that Robin had shown her the night before. A floodgate had been opened last night, and now it seemed that Marion didn’t want to muster the strength of will needed to close it once more.
Robin, however, came up next to Marion a moment later, and had heard the poor blue vixen’s pleas for mercy, saw the shaking of her head in denial of the pleasure that was being forcibly inflicted upon her, her heat leaving her so wet and needy when otherwise she might have been far less receptive. Marion’s brave mate knew rape when he saw it, and he also knew how to handle it. Had he been facing a male forcing himself upon a female, the fox would have simply sent a shaft into the male’s heart from the bushes without a second thought, and then gone to the rescue of the victim he’d saved. But both of the figures before him were female, and his chivalrous nature wouldn’t allow him to slay a female if he could possibly avoid it, even if she was obviously a warrior. That was when he’d rushed past Marion, his bow snapping down and into position from his back in a rush born of years of practice until it had become instinct, challenging the strong yellow female.
The great-niece of King Richard gasped as she watched the tall, strangely-marked yellow vixen disregard the challenge, and then suddenly leap into the air, unleashing a torrent of sorcerous ice crystals down on her mate. But Robin didn’t flinch for a moment, for he was renowned at the greatest archer in the world for a reason, his hands almost a blur as he pulled back arrow after arrow, each whistling shaft shattering against a cluster of jagged shards, scattering them to the sides. When the strange female landed, Robin was still standing there, the grass all around him covered in ice, his quiver empty, but not a patch of fur on his body harmed.
* * *
Renamon blinked in surprise as she landed. The male before her had survived! More than that, he was tossing aside his bow and drawing his sword, striding forward with purposeful intent.
“Surrender now, sorceress,” he commanded, his face fixed as he prepared for a terrific battle against a creature of unknown power. “I’ve no wish to harm you.”
“Still you must defeat me,” Renamon heard herself insisting as the male drew nearer, her honor so deeply ingrained that she couldn’t stop herself, even when the raging heat in her belly, further inflamed by the pleasures she’d been about to extract from the blue-furred vixen, were crying out that she was now in the presence of one of the finest specimens of manhood that she’d ever met. “You can’t have your prize until you show your strength. That is the digimon way.”
“I don’t care about your bloody digimon way!” snarled Robin, the expression at once sexy and intimidating in a way that sent a thrill through Renamon’s body as the fox lunged forward. “I just want to stop you from raping that girl!”
The first blow was fast, and it took all of Renamon’s concentration to raise her arm fast enough to deflect the blow off of her crystal bracer. But concentration was something that she didn’t have right then – how could she, when her time of heat was raging within her like a furnace, and before her was a handsome young male, strong and healthy and obviously very skilled? At another time, Renamon might have been able to muster enough strength to move with lightning speed, faster than the eye could follow. Right then, however, it was impossible, and the strong fox before her kept moving, and the blows kept coming, and soon it was all that Renamon could do to keep from being cut, dodging and blocking with all her speed and skill, even as the fox before her drove her back before his relentless onslaught, each attack coming so fast upon the last that she couldn’t take the time needed to muster a counterattack, for fear that one of those flurried blows would make it through and pierce her flesh.
Then, suddenly, Renamon felt her back strike against the firm surface of a tree, and the surprise of this sudden contact caused her to lose the thread of concentration that had been keeping her safe from the rain of sword blows. Her head lifted as she saw the blade flashing down upon her, and with a final desperate act, Renamon lifted both her arms, crying out as the force of the blow shattered the crystalline parts of her bracers, leaving only the purple cloth beneath, and driving her to her knees before the male.
“Please!” Renamon gasped out, lifting one hand in supplication. “I yield!” Her head lowered then in humble defeat. “You’ve won, and to the victor go the spoils. I am yours to do with as you please.”
* * *
Krystal watched breathlessly as the battle raged on, her eyes wide with astonishment as she saw the skill and strength of the handsome fox that had come to her rescue. She couldn’t help but feel a lurch inside of her belly as she watched him move, heard his wonderful, seductive voice like the brush of a lover’s caress on her ears, her body recognizing a strong, healthy male and crying out in need for the one thing that could quench the aching heat that simmered inside of her.
Then Krystal turned, feeling a pair of gentle hands upon her back, untying the belt that was holding her. Kneeling behind her, dressed only in a filmy, tantalizingly translucent night gown and a beautiful headpiece like something from the historical holovids of older times on other worlds, was a lovely young vixen, a little younger than Krystal herself, her orange-red fur framing the most beautiful pair of green eyes that Krystal had ever seen.
“Come on, let’s get you to safety,” said the vixen in a softly-accented, sweet voice that matched her sweetly pretty face perfectly. “This is no place for a lady.”
“Thank you,” said Krystal, smiling at the other female as she rubbed her wrists. And then, suddenly acting on an impulse, she leaned forward, one hand lifting to rest on the other vixen’s cheek, before her lips met those of the red-furred female. At first the other vixen started in surprise, but Krystal reached around with her other hand, holding the red vixen’s back so that she couldn’t jerk free, and before long the other female’s eyes closed, her cheeks as flushed as Krystal’s, and before she knew what was happening, she was actually kissing the blue-furred female back.
“Wh-what . . .?” said the slim, pretty red vixen, her eyes showing her confusion and desire as she broke the kiss. Krystal silenced the question by lifting a finger to the other female’s lips, her answering smile reassuring.
“It’s okay,” she said soothingly, leaning forward to nuzzle the young female’s cheek. “I’m Krystal.”
“Maid Marion,” said the orange-red vixen with an answering smile, understanding as she scented the blue-furred female’s obvious estrus. “I’m the mate of Robin Hood, the fox that saved you from that strange yellow vixen. How did you get . . .?”
But once again the question was cut off, this time by a tremendous crack! as, not far off, Renamon’s bracers shattered from Robin’s overwhelming blow, causing both females to turn their heads to watch and listen to what transpired next.
* * *
Robin blinked at the suddenness of the yellow-furred alien vixen before him, and lifted his sword as she raised her hand, signaling her defeat. The tod wasn’t about to strike a helpless foe, and he certainly didn’t feel right about striking a female, even if she was a witch – especially a female as attractive as the one before him. She was tall, a little taller than him, in fact, her body slender and hardened like a blade. In a single smooth movement, he sheathed his sword, and then folded his arms as he looked down at the vixen, frowning sternly.
“You’re fortunate I don’t harm females if I can avoid it,” he said seriously. “What manner of being are you, to call down ice out of the air like that?”
“A digimon,” responded the female, lifting her hands slowly, so as not to make Robin start, letting him see that she meant him no harm, and then reaching them forward, deftly undoing the fox’s swordbelt almost before Robin was aware of it, his eyes widening in shock as he reached down to grab as his pants, since they were a little loose without the belt holding them up. “You can call me Renamon.”
“What … you can’t just…my name’s Robin, and what in the world are you…ooh…,” Robin had started to protest the strange vixen’s behavior, only to have his eyes widen suddenly as she peeled his green breeches open, her skilled hands easily parting the flaps as she began to nuzzle her triangular-shaped head against his plump balls. “That really…isn’t proper behavior for a lady, you know.”
Renamon ignored Robin’s words, the head of his pink penis already swelling from its sheath, sheath and balls both a soft, creamy white like the rest of his underbelly, though that was mostly hidden beneath his clothes right then. With three fertile females so close together at that moment in the same clearing, the wind too still to carry away any of the pheromones in the air, Robin’s instincts were working overtime, and as Renamon took his stiffening member into her short muzzle, he was almost immediately erect before he could fully realize what was happening.
Giving a gasp as a jolt of pleasure shivered up and down his spine, Robin turned, his eyes searching for Marion. His eyes met hers, and he gave her an apologetic glance…at least, it was apologetic, until he realized that his wife was grinning from ear to ear – not that he could blame her, for he knew he must present a most comical sight, his pants pulled by this strange female, his rampant manhood dangling in the air, his eyes wide, face flustered – and the blue-furred vixen next to her was doing the same, both of them rising now and walking towards him. With Marion’s sheer, filmy nightgown doing nothing for her modesty and quite a bit for her allure, and Krystal (for he’d heard her say her name, though only vaguely, while he’d been finishing with Renamon) wearing nothing except a white leather jacket of very strange cut, the little whorls and symbols on her lovely, naked blue fur just making her seem all the more exotic, and the female kneeling right in front of him wearing even less than them both, her only garment apparently a pair of cloth bracers which had been hidden beneath the crystalline ones she’d been using before, Robin realized that he was no longer completely in control of the situation. The vixens were calling the shots now, whether he liked it or not. And as he felt Renamon pulling back to flicker her tongue around the slit at the tip of his penis, he realized that he would probably like it very much indeed.
“That’s so sexy, my husband,” said Marion, coming up behind Robin and wrapping her slender arms around his chest, stroking her fingers gently against his shirt, and then reaching down to lift the hem, starting to pull it up, to which Robin lifted his arms, letting Marion undress his upper body, save for his feathered hat. “Mmm,” she leaned her chin on his shoulder after tossing the shirt aside, her fingers teasing around Robin’s fur-covered nipples, “I think I’ll take notes – I want to be able to please you like that, after all. You deserve it, after the wonderful things you did for me last night. And for how special you make me feel, knowing that you’re mine.”
Krystal, meanwhile, walked around behind Renamon, kneeling on the grass by the yellow vixen’s tail, her small hands reaching out, resting on the small of the other female’s back. Renamon paused in her attentions to Robin’s penis, and turned her head to look at Krystal, their eyes meeting in a long, awkward moment, for neither seemed to know exactly what to say. Only moments before, one of the females had just been about to ravish the other, and now, the situation had completely changed. What might have resulted from this long pause was unknown, but Marion’s voice, calm and thoughtful despite the sheer naughtiness of what was taking place, broke through the tension.
“I suppose introductions are in order,” said the red-furred female with a smile as she leaned her chin on Robin’s shoulder. “This is my mate, Robin Hood. Robin, the lovely blue-furred lady is Krystal. Now, who’s your friend?”
Robin smiled sheepishly, his white-furred cheeks flushed lightly with passion and embarrassment, before he recovered his confidence, realizing that he was indeed in no danger here, and that the situation was a friendly one. It was natural for him to take control and plunge headlong into the unknown – as natural as it had been for him to take up arms against the edicts of Prince John and rob from the unjust rich to feed the oppressed poor.
“My dear Maid Marion, the well-skilled woman before us calls herself Renamon,” he replied gallantly, reaching back to pat her hand, then forward with his other hand to stroke one of the dark lines on Renamon’s cheek. “And I do believe, my dear Renamon, that you owe milady Krystal an apology for your shameful behavior.”
Renamon blinked at this, uncertain for a moment on what to do next. Apologize? It wasn’t something that digimon did, in their world of savage battles and survival of the fittest, the strong growing still stronger through the absorbed data of those too weak to resist, or merging their digi-DNA through various means (including sex) to produce still stronger digimon, by force if necessary. But then she turned her head, her dark eyes meeting the wonderful gaze of the sleek, blue-furred female that was even then stroking her delicate hands down Renamon’s muscled sides and lower back, slow and gentle and soothing, and the mighty warrior digimon felt her resistance melt.
“I’m…I’m sorry, Krystal,” she finally got out, the words uncertain and hesitant in their unfamiliarity, but no less sincere. “I’m sorry for…,” and now it was Renamon’s turn to blush, as the full impact of what she’d been doing came home to her, “for trying to have you sexually against your will. I was,” she lowered her head, nibbling her lower lip, “and suppose I still am, in need. It is my time as a female, just as I could tell it was yours. It was too much of a temptation for me to resist. Please, I beg your forgiveness.”
Renamon wasn’t really sure what she expected after she said these words. Would Krystal react with disgust; contempt; fury? Would there be further violence? But whatever Renamon might have thought might happen, she wasn’t quite prepared for what did actually take place, as she felt one of those lovely small hands go to her chin, gently lifting the yellow-furred female’s angular face, before Krystal’s own muzzle lowered to meet Renamon’s in a soft, sweetly passionate kiss.
“I forgive you,” said the blue-furred female in a breathy stage whisper, loud enough that all three of the other beings in the clearing by the lake could hear her words clearly.
Caught by those eyes once more, Renamon just stared, her breath quite taken away by that wonderful kiss. And then she noticed Krystal’s eyes turning upward, and her own gaze followed, both kneeling vixen’s now looking up into the deep brown eyes and handsome face of Robin Hood. He, in turn, turned his head to look at his mate, Maid Marion, who smiled down at the pair as their gazes shifted to her own, waiting expectantly.
“Well, it seems as though you both want something,” she said teasingly, and then leaned over to nuzzle against Robin’s cheek, giving him a tender kiss before she turned her eyes back on the pair kneeling before her. “He’s my mate – we chose each other, and that’s that.” It was actually rather comical, the way both females seemed almost to droop at this statement, but Marion didn’t stop there. “However, that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to share. After all, you both are going through the same thing that I’m going through, with our time of need upon us. It would be truly cruel of me to leave you without any sort of relief.” Then she grinned saucily, giggling as she covered her mouth with one hand. “Also I think it might be rather cruel of me to leave my dear Robin in his current state. You poor dear – you’re all swollen. Why, it looks almost painful.”
Robin, who had been smiling pleasantly, now rather sure that things were no longer beyond his control, blinked at this, and looked down. Sure enough – he’d let his pants drop to his ankles, his hands becoming occupied with other things, and with his nostrils filled with the heady pheromones of three fertile and very attractive females, it was no wonder that his penis was standing at full erection from its sheath, good little soldier that it was, always ready to serve. He chuckled at Marion’s comment, and kissed her cheek right back, before he maneuvered her muzzle with his own until they were both kissing once more, their tongues intertwining, soft sounds of pleasure and eagerness coming from them both. It was agonizing for Renamon and Krystal to watch, the waves of pent-up passion rising off of the couple before them just adding further fuel to their fires of need.
Then the couple broke the kiss, and Robin turned his attention fully on the pair of females kneeling before him, smiling knowingly as he saw how Krystal was actually wriggling her pert blue tushie against the grass, while Renamon had her legs pressed tightly together, the white fur of her underbelly now flushed to a needy pink between her strong runner’s legs. Once more the roguish fox was in his element, sensing that Marion had the desire but not the experience for this situation, while the two alien vixens were just that: aliens, strangers and interlopers who had stumbled through accident and passion into the relationship of a mated couple.
“Well, I think I can see a temporary solution to the problem,” said Robin, carefully disentangling himself from the trio of vixens, pausing for a moment to bend and remove both his soft boots and his breeches, feeling the eyes of the three females on his body as he removed the last of his clothing, and then walking to a nearby stump and seated himself upon it. “Milady Krystal, Milady Renamon, if you would be so kind,” he motioned to the pair of vixens, and then to his erection, standing proud and ready for service. Both blue- and yellow-furred females quickly crawled the short distance to the stump, their tails hiked, rumps arched a bit higher than necessary, letting their pheromones carry all the better on the air. They knelt before the red-furred tod, their eyes intent upon his manhood, hands already reaching out for him.
Marion, watching this with intent eyes, feeling like a spectator at a burlesque show, couldn’t blame either of the pair of vixens for their eagerness, for she knew it well: Robin Hood’s male apparatus was truly a work of art, his dangling sac a pure, snowy white like the rest of his underbelly, each testicle hanging equally plump and symmetrical, his shaft straight like an arrow, and feeling almost as long when it was thrust deep within Marion’s body, the length thick, but not intimidating in the least, for it had a smooth, perfect pink color to the shaft that made it seem as sweet as candy to the eyes.
While Marion watched, Renamon wrapped one hand around Robin’s shaft, the other resting on his inner thigh as she eagerly popped his plump glans into her short, pointed muzzle, visibly working her lips around his heated flesh, her tongue undoubtedly doing some truly obscene things judging from the way Robin’s back arched, his rump clenching as he reached out, resting one hand dominantly on the digimon’s head. His other hand came to a rest between Krystal’s ears, encouraging her as she bent her slim little muzzle, her tongue lapping at Robin’s balls, before she gently wrapped her lips around one plump nut, suckling the flesh eagerly, working the entire testicle thoroughly until its fur was slicked down with her saliva, before she shifted her attentions to his other nut. His hands began to stroke both vixens’ heads like he might a pair of well-behaved dogs…or bitches in heat, as Marion couldn’t help visualizing, murmuring soft words of encouragement as his eyes watched them with full eagerness.
With such a scene on display before her, Marion felt she couldn’t help but begin to touch herself, reaching up to lift her filmy little shift upwards, over her head, and then hanging it on a nearby tree branch. She left her head covering on, however – somehow she felt more comfortable that way. The slim red vixen’s hands soon cupped her breasts, stroking over them in slow, gentle circles, causing Marion to wince slightly, for she always found herself surprisingly sensitive there during her heat, especially around her nipples. This sensitivity could bring her intense discomfort at times. But at other times (and this was one of them, for which she was dearly thankful), she could be brought extreme pleasure by stimulation to her lovely white-furred breasts. This was sometimes a problem for her in her early years, especially when she was trying to attend church and pay attention to the words said, but her whole being was focused upon the intensity of sensation running through her developing body from the stroking of her own clothes against her nipples. Marion had her eyes fixed on the upturned bare bottoms of the pair of vixens, their swollen slits daringly exposed to the open air, Krystal’s sex having a soft blue cast to it, which kept growing darker as she got steadily more aroused, while Renamon’s was a deep, ruby red that contrasted sharply with the soft pink of Marion’s own nether regions. As Robin’s mate watched that pair of firm female rumps wriggle before her as they worked over Robin’s male parts, coaxing him to heights of passion that might come close to equaling their own, she began to squeeze and roll her nipples between her fingers, the motion at once comforting and intensely pleasurable, for while she’d been ordered never to touch herself between her legs while she was growing up, nobody had ever told her not to stimulate her breasts, which often provided the only source of relief she could find in those desperate adolescent years.
Then Marion’s eyes rose, meeting Robin’s. How long he’d been watching her, she could have no idea, but the smile on his face told her that he liked what he saw, very, very much.
“My lovely Maid Marion,” said Robin, lifting the hand that had been on Renamon’s head to beckon towards his mate. “I think I have a suggestion for you which you might find highly enjoyable.” His hand returned to its place on Renamon’s head, even as both she and Krystal turned to look at her, part curious and part eager to see what would come of whatever Robin might suggest. “Why don’t you demonstrate to our new friends what I showed you last night.” He motioned with his head towards the upturned rumps of the two females. “The part where I used my hands, and my muzzle especially.” He winked saucily. “I think you enjoyed that quite a lot, if I recall correctly.”
“You tease,” laughed Marion, even as she began walking forward, her eyes following the curves of each female, their bodies each so very different from each other, and yet also so very feminine. “You know I loved what you did.” She frowned studiously as she knelt on the ground behind the two females, who obligingly hiked their tails and bottoms a little bit higher, for ease of access. “Hmm, now let me see. How did you start again…?”
Three pairs of eyes watched eagerly as Marion reached out and gently rested her hand on the soft blue fur of Krystal’s rump. She traced the curve of the other female’s back and tail, noting the rings wrapped around that tail, keeping the fur from bushing out all over, making Krystal’s form more sleek and streamlined. Gently, Marion’s fingers quested inward, to where Krystal’s blue fur gave way first to a delicate lighter shade, and then, right around her most intimate places, to a blue-tinged white. She gripped the other female’s rump then, holding her firmly, the way Robin had gripped her when she’d presented herself to him last night, spreading Krystal’s rearcheeks with her hands, her thumbs spreading open the white-furred labia. Marion took a long moment to study the sex of the first other female she’d ever seen up close before in this manner, noting with interest how Krystal’s inner sex was a flushed blueberry color, while the tight pucker of her tailhole was of a similar shade. Thanks to Robin’s efforts, Marion knew well the pleasure that could come from having a tongue work against one’s tailhole, though her mate had resisted penetrating her there with his penis: he said he wanted to save that virginity for a later time.
Moving her head forward, her muzzle pressing into the lovely cleft of Krystal’s womanhood, Marion extended her tongue, deciding to start right in the middle of things as she tentatively penetrated the blue vixen’s inner lips. Her tongue began to wriggle, which caused the other vixen to moan happily, her toes curling in pleasure, but this proved to be far more tiring for Marion than Robin had made it seem. So, instead, she settled on nibbling with her lips, which was much less tiring, working her way gradually downward, her tongue extending right at the last to lash across Krystal’s exposed blue clitoris, making her jerk as though she’d been hit with an electric shock. Sensing that what she was doing was a good thing, Marion kept it up, licking eagerly now at Krystal’s love button, not letting up for a moment as she started to work the other female up into a full lather, her tasty, fruity cunny juices flowing freely after only a few swipes of Marion’s questing tongue.
As Marion increased her attentions to Krystal’s tender parts, both Krystal and Renamon began to lap their way up the pillar of Robin’s cock, Krystal’s mind a haze of pleasure from Marion’s amateurish but very eager ministrations, while Renamon was in a similar haze of anticipation, aroused by the wonderful little coos and moans of the sweet blue vixen, and the grunts and gasps of the male before her. As Renamon held his shaft straight with a hand around the base, where Robin’s penis melded into his sheath, Krystal continued to caress and gently palpate his swollen white-furred plums, and both vixens began to lap their way up the tod’s smooth pink length, bottom to top, their tongues working as though they were at the last oasis in a desert. Every so often one or the other of the pair would press their lips against Robin’s shaft, sucking in little nibbles of pink flesh, making the fox’s whole body shiver, his hands stroking down the backs and sides of each vixen. As the pair servicing him reached the corona of his cock, and began to nibble at the incredibly sensitive underside of his mushroomed cockhead, Robin’s hands teased their way down to the tailbases of each vixen, his talented fingers soon finding the sensitive cluster of nerves there, making each of the pair moan in delight as he rubbed firmly into that pleasure-giving area, causing them to arch their backs and hike their bottoms just a little bit more, all the better to press into the tod’s touch. Krystal especially enjoyed this, pressing back at the same time she pressed up, to soak in the affections of Marion’s oral efforts on her steaming, incredibly juicy sex.
Robin watched, his eyes wide, as Renamon and Krystal suddenly both took a firm grip on his shaft, each using one hand to hold him still, before they pressed their muzzles together, kissing each other with his swollen cocktip right between their lips, their tongues dancing with each other at the same time they played over his dripping manhood, lapping up every single drop of precum with all the eagerness of a kit with an ice cream cone. They lifted themselves almost as one, and Marion had to pull her muzzle reluctantly away from Krystal’s slit, licking her lips clean of the copious juices staining them, as both of the alien vixens pressed Robin’s erection between their breasts, making a snug channel as their nipples rubbed against each other, Krystal proving to be slightly more busty than Renamon, as it turned out. With such a plush tunnel in which to thrust his ready shaft, Robin grit his teeth all the tighter, his hips bucking as he found it steadily harder to control himself, the only thing keeping him from shooting his load right then and there the intense concentration that had made him the greatest archer in the world.
Suddenly, as Marion slid up behind Krystal, stroking her deft hands down the sides of the blue-furred vixen, licking at her neck and then nibbling along her jaw, causing Krystal to sigh happily around each long lick of Robin’s penis, Robin got a flash of inspiration. Acting on the moment, his hands shifted on Krystal and Renamon’s lower backs as he slid back, away from their erotic caress. As all three of the vixens watched expectantly, Robin slid off the stump and seated himself on the grass in front of it instead. He motioned to Renamon with one hand.
“Turn around, Milady Renamon,” he said in tones of gentle command and hidden promise, moving his finger in a circle to demonstrate what he meant.
Blinking, Renamon obeyed, staying on all-fours, arching her hips towards Robin eagerly, lifting her rump high as her tail flagged high. Robin reached out, resting one hand on Renamon’s rump, holding her there, while his other went to Krystal’s head, guiding her down once more to his rampant penis, which still stood proudly erect and ready for servicing. Her hands resting on Robin’s inner thighs, Krystal eagerly complied, now even more interested in her work as she found that she didn’t have to share her prize with another female any more.
“My dearest darling,” Robin continued, glancing at Marion even as his muzzle was drawing ever nearer to Renamon’s snug, heretofore untouched slit. “Turn your body a bit as you get on your hands and knees, please. Have your rump facing towards Milady Renamon while you attend to the needs of Milady Krystal. I think she would like to have something to occupy her attention while I attend to her needs, don’t you agree?”
“Most certainly, Robin,” answered Marion emphatically as she eagerly lowered herself, feeling more like an animal than a thinking, talking creature in this position, the sensation heady, making her head almost swim in a sea of emotion and instinct and desire. As her tail flagged, a gentle breeze playing across her lovely little cunny and bared pink tailhole, both framed in achingly soft white fur (“virgin soft” Robin liked to call it), Marion quickly and eagerly pressed her muzzle forward once more, relishing the flavor of the needy blue vixen before her, the delightful moans and coos of Krystal heightening her own sensations all the more.
Renamon, realizing what Robin was wanting of her, smiled in that enigmatic way of hers as she looked back at him.
“You don’t mind me ravishing your wife with my muzzle, do you?” she asked in a lightly teasing tone. “She looks quite delicious from here.”
Robin peeked over Renamon’s yellow-furred booty, and returned her smile with a grin of his own.
“Only as long as you give her an experience she won’t forget, Milady Renamon,” he replied, before his eyes turned back to the digimon vixen’s bared pink parts. As Krystal gave a sensual little moan, her chin pressed firmly against Robin’s plump, white-furred balls as she deep-throated him, her short, delicate muzzle not quite enough to take his whole length by itself (unlike Marion’s slightly longer muzzle, which could take Robin’s length with only a little difficulty), the efforts of his mate driving her crazy with need and pleasure, Robin wrapped his hand around the base of Renamon’s tail, his own muzzle driving between her thighs, tongue lashing out in staccato jabs and thrusts, before he suddenly penetrated Renamon’s flushed cunny lips, plunging deep into her swollen digipuss.
So encouraged, Renamon had to grit her teeth, wincing in pleasure as she seized Marion’s upturned rump, pulling it closer to her muzzle, completing the daisy chain as the digimon started to flick her tongue out in short, eager little dabbing motions, lapping her way around Marion’s heated nether parts, making the red-furred female give a muffled cry at first, her head bucking as she worked Krystal over with all her eagerness. Soon the clearing was filled with the sounds of eager slurping and the delightful moans and gasps, whimpers and coos of much-pleasured females, and the occasional grunt of masculine passion from Robin as his instincts slowly began to overwhelm his reason, piece by piece as the foursome bucked and writhed and reveled in the carnal, sensual passion of the moment.
Then, with a feral snarl, Robin gripped Krystal’s head a bit harder, though still careful not to injure her, even as he lifted her muzzle upward. As the blue-furred female let Robin’s cock leave her muzzle with a slight ‘pop,’ the former outlaw slid the hand that had been gripping Renamon’s tail up her back to her shoulder, while the hand that had been on Krystal’s head, guiding the shapely blue vixen’s muzzle motions, went to the digimon’s ankle. Renamon gave a startled gasp as she was rolled partway onto her side, losing contact with Marion’s sweet sex, her long, muscular leg hefted into the air, doing half of a split as she formed a right angle with her legs. One leg rested between Robin’s legs, while the other pressed firmly against his white-furred chest, the position not terribly uncomfortable for the athletic yellow vixen, thanks to her great flexibility and the incredible strength of her shapely legs, which were honed for running and jumping, their hard muscle trembling, tensed against Robin’s body as he grit his teeth, shifting his hips. Then, with a rough grunt, Robin’s rump tensed, his hips lunging forward as his cockhead found its mark, and he slid straight and true and deep into Renamon’s willing, welcoming cunny, the digi-vixen giving a sweet cry of passion as she gripped the grass beneath her, her eyes squeezed shut by the force and suddenness of the penetration, her own passions inflamed by the feral eagerness of the tod to claim her properly.
Writhing and gyrating like a dancer, Renamon tensed her body, her incredible athleticism allowing her to clench her cunny, rippling the inner muscles in ways that Robin had never experienced. He wasn’t going to last long, as worked up as he was, but this was all right, since Renamon didn’t want to hold back much longer either.
Marion was kneeling while Krystal was seated on her rump, resting one arm on the stump where Robin had been sitting as they watched the tod humping Renamon sideways, the place where his penis spread her cunny wide clearly visible as the yellow-furred female’s toes curled, the white fur of her underbelly flushing so deep and hot that it was clearly visible despite the thickness of that fur. Then, suddenly Robin gave a loud gasp, his back arching, head snapping back, his entire body tensing up as he buried himself to the hilt in Renamon’s cunny, his balls pressed firmly against her inner thigh as she lay on her side, her three-fingered hands tearing furrows in the grassy sward beneath her as she cried out in her lovely voice, her eyes squeezed shut, jaw tight, while Robin’s eyes were narrowed to bare slits, his gaze fixed on the orgasm of the lovely vixen before him as he painted the walls of her womb white with his virile cum, planting his seed nice and deep within her heated, fertile womb.
Heaving a long, satiated sigh as his orgasm subsided, Robin drew back, his penis slipping free of the digivixen’s sleek, muscled cunny. However, he couldn’t help but see how Renamon’s body was still trembling lightly as she pressed against the ground, slumping onto her back as he carefully released his hold on her leg. Acting quickly, before the moment passed, the handsome tod filled Renamon’s still-needy hole with his fingers right where his cock had just been, wriggling and pumping them with short, rapid thrusts, arching them upwards so as to gain maximum contact with the area of slight roughness in a female’s inner walls that he’d discovered through much experience could give some of the most intense orgasms possible.
“My lovely darling, could you please help Renamon?” he said in his calm, quietly confident voice, not turning his eyes from the moaning yellow vixen, who was even then thrusting her chest into the air, her nipples almost hurting, they were so perked and erect and hard, her dark eyes opening once more to look at him, awaiting her fate expectantly. “She’s not quite finished yet, I think, but I think I should attend to Milady Krystal’s needs before I’m, well,” he glanced down at his semistiff organ, “played out, so to speak.”
“But of course, my dearest mate,” replied Marion, giving Krystal a sideways look and a teasing wink before she crawled forward, taking Robin’s place between Renamon’s legs. As Robin slid to the side, Marion quickly went to all-fours, pressing her muzzle eagerly between Renamon’s white-furred inner thighs, her lips going straight for the digimon’s quivering cunny, which was even then still dripping the fresh, spicy male cream of her mate. As this realization hit her, the sheer sinful naughtiness of what she was doing crashing down on Marion’s mind, the very forbidden nature of what she was doing set off her passions like a cannon, and she began to messily feast on Renamon’s sweet and hot little honey pot with lusty gusto, making Renamon’s hips arch as she grit her teeth, her eyes clenching shut once more at the renewed stimulation, keeping her body from ceasing its spasms and jerking bucks of her hips and back, not letting her come down from her peak of pleasure. And as she worked her muzzle’s newfound talents on her fellow female, Maid Marion’s fingers were busily engaged between her own thighs, fingers curled up into her sweetness just as Robin’s had been just last night.
As Marion kept Renamon’s pleasures at a constant plateau of ecstasy, Robin crawled towards where Krystal was kneeling, partially hunched over, making soft whimpers as she rested one small hand on the ground, the other grinding against her mound, her juices wetting her fingers with a light sheen. Her eyes turned from watching the other two vixens to meet Robin’s, growing wide with excitement and a hint of nervous anticipation, not knowing exactly what the tod had planned for her.
Robin didn’t leave Krystal waiting long, crawling to her side, letting the length of his strong, furry body stroke against her lifted hips, nudging her there lightly, like a real fox might bump against his mate before mounting. This was indeed a foreshadowing of Robin’s intentions, for he soon rose up behind Krystal, his hands taking a firm, steady hold of her hips. As he sat back on the soft grass, sitting with his legs splayed, Robin tugged the wriggling little vixen back against his chest, finding the motion easy to perform, for Krystal was shorter than either Renamon or Marion, and quite a bit lighter, her bone structure more delicate and fine. Unlike Marion’s womanly shape, flaring delightfully at the hips and breasts, and quite different from Renamon’s firm warrior’s body, every inch of her beneath her fur hardened and battle trim, Krystal bordered on the side of skinny, her body lean and trim from much running and other aerobic physical activity, her muscles small, sleek, and quite compact, made for endurance more than feats of raw strength. Her lovely blue fur added a softness to her slenderness, making her look small, kittenish, and sweetly inviting while still retaining a hint of enticing innocence waiting to be explored, an impression that was enhanced still further by her large, beautiful blue-green eyes.
His hands stroking along her satiny blue fur, fingers teasing through it to the tender skin beneath, Robin murred softly in Krystal’s ear as he nibbled along the pointed auricles, making the sweet little vixen give a soft cry of pleasure, a cry that increased in volume and intensity of feeling as Robin’s fingers found Krystal’s dark blue nipples, gently teasing them, finding that Krystal was almost as sensitive as Marion had proven to be around her breasts, though it seemed, after some exploration as Robin gently worked his hands in massaging circles over her full breasts, that Krystal was almost as sensitive all over each pert, gravity-defying mound. And speaking of mounds, Robin’s eyes turned downwards, to the blue-tinged whiteness framing the snug, inviting little cleft between Krystal’s slender legs. One hand descended, trailing through the fur of her firm, flat tummy, and soon insinuated itself into the space found between the vixen’s thighs. In a matter of moments, Krystal was on the verge of screaming in pleasure, proving herself to be incredibly vocal in giving voice to her pleasures, as Robin’s fingers penetrated her so expertly, spreading her open as he arched each digit upward and then back, towards the inside part of her mons.
As Krystal’s body was tensing and wriggling in pure delight, her small hands grasping at Robin’s forearms for dear life, he smoothly lay himself back, while the hand that had been on her breast moved to Krystal’s hip, giving him the leverage he needed to tilt her slightly forward, her smooth-furred bare rump hiking up, her tail flipping instinctively out of the way. It was easy for the red-furred tod as he angled his hips, his expression intent as Krystal looked over one shoulder at him, eyes wide and excited indeed with anticipation, giving a soft exclamation of “Oh!” as she felt the fox’s plump glans pressing against her flushed blue inner labia, gradually prizing them apart, her needy juices flowing down his shaft, coating it with a slick sheen.
Once slotted into place, Robin shifted his grip slightly, and then lay back on the soft grass, drawing Krystal along with him, letting her fall back on his penis like the blade of a sword, impaling herself on his rampant shaft as she gave a heated cry of passion, her lovely neck arching as her head lifted, thrusting her perfect breasts outward with the motion. The skinny little vixen’s small hands lifted, catching her surprisingly plump breasts (obviously a genetic trait), squeezing and kneading them almost roughly as Robin gripped her hips firmly, his own hips starting to buck upwards, making Krystal’s body lurch into the air, only to fall back onto his penetrating shaft as Robin lowered himself back to earth.
Gasping for a moment as she rested there, Krystal cried out once more as Robin arched his hips once again, this time lifting her with his strong hands at the same time, his bucking hips pumping himself deeper into her trembling body. For all her seeming fragility, Krystal adored being handled roughly in the throes of sex. It was a dark, secret part of her that she had tried to suppress more than once, but could never completely deny, and it had gotten her in trouble many times, and likely would continue to do so in the future.
‘If only Fox were like this male,’ Krystal thought to herself in the daze of pleasure spreading over her, radiating outward from her trim tummy, her legs shifting now, her knees resting on either side of Robin’s hips, to provide herself with better stability to hold against his rough and rapid thrusts. ‘This near-savage brute is an animal once he gets going!’
Robin wasn’t the only one who was getting going, for Krystal started to arch her body as well, thrusting herself up and down eagerly on the strong, slender male’s hips, her breasts bouncing with abandon as she rode him like a horse – reverse cowgirl style. She was an absolute wanton, and reveled in it, her head thrown back, sweet cries of purest passion escaping her lips as the strong, handsome male’s hands stroked over her body, both their hips grinding and pounding against each other almost painfully, until Krystal’s whole body began flushing a deeper shade of radiant blue as she felt herself losing all control, a scream of sweetest bliss torn from her as she went rocketing over the edge of ecstasy, her extremes of pleasure heightened all the more as she heard the beautiful male she was humping like a filthy savage cry out as well, his hips arching and bucking against her even faster and harder, the extra stimulation and the wonderful sensation of deep, inner contractions that accompanied the rush of rich, virile seed that he spurted straight into Krystal’s sweet, pulsing little cunny enough to leave Krystal dazed, stunned with the sheer enormity of the pleasure that shook her to the core, rocking her very being until she could no longer think straight – until she could no longer think at all, her entire galaxy consumed with the raw pleasure of the most thoroughly and completely satisfying sexual encounter she’d ever had.
Robin was panting hard as he raised his hands, catching Krystal as she began to fall backwards, gently lowering her until she was resting on his chest. With a careful shifting of their bodies, he turned her to the side, resting her in the crook of one arm. Hearing a light giggle, the tod turned his head to look into the sweet blue eyes of his mate, giving her a silly grin and a bit of a shrug as she looked him over.
“My, but you do look a mess, my dear,” commented Marion as she ran her eyes up and down the well-sexed male. “Fur matted all over down there, headfur mussed perhaps beyond all recovery, your hat gone to points unknown . . .”
“I’m lying on the hat,” Robin interjected with a sheepish smirk. “Terrible for the shape, you know, but I don’t really have the heart to retrieve it.”
“All in all, you look like a very pleased fox,” finished Marion, leaning down and cuddling herself up against his left side, right next to his heart, letting Krystal keep the right. “Mmm, and nice and warm, too.”
It was at close range that Robin noticed how very flushed his lovely kittenish mate was, and how very mussed her own fur had become. It seemed that he was not the only one who had been enjoying himself around here. This suspicion was confirmed when Robin felt a larger, heavier body lean down, resting against his legs. A glance down showed that this was Renamon, looking . . . well, to be quite honest, she looked as though she was the sole survivor of the losing side in some nameless war. Except no refugee had any right to look as completely satisfied and happy as Renamon did, her eyes quickly closed, her mouth turned up in a little smile that looked absolutely precious, making the powerful warrior look uncharacteristically cute as she snuggled herself up against Robin’s waist and the trailing legs of the other two vixens and let herself fade promptly into a well-earned nap.
“Since when did I start doing double-duty as the pillow for every Jane, Anne, and Mary who wants a tumble in the hay?” Robin muttered to himself, only to scrunch his nose slightly as Marion batted him on the cheek, soft and loving while still letting him know the proper order of things around here.
“Oh hush or I’ll wake the others, and we’ll fluff you,” Marion answered with a tired final giggle, before she also faded off into slumberland.
Robin took a few moments to take a full assessment of his situation before he let his own rising fatigue overwhelm his senses also. On each arm, nuzzled up against each side of his chest, was a most handsome vixen, one of which was his more-than-perfect mate, who he would dearly have loved to repay for her endless generosity in being so willing to share, if not for the hard fact that he needed a bit of recovery time after the multiple bouts they had enjoyed last night, coupled with the intense experiences of the past short while, coupled once more with Marion’s own tiredness. Curled around his legs, somewhat like a large cat, was yet another of the sexy vixens that had (in some cases quite literally) dropped from the sky almost directly into his lap. All in all, Robin had to admit, clean living and fun loving seemed to indeed have their rewards, and he was being repaid with a great deal of interest.
* * *
When he had dozen off, Robin honestly had no idea. But as he groggily looked up, he noted that the sun, which had just been peeking over the edge of the treeline when he and Marion had encountered their strange visitors from elsewhere, was now slightly past the midpoint in the sky, shining warmly down on his lean archer’s body.
As his senses gradually came back to him, Robin also became aware of more sensations than gentle sunlight on his naked body – sensations that were a great deal more pleasurable. Lifting his head, Robin’s eyebrows lifted as he saw that his cock was once more standing at proud attention, this time in the service of three greedy vulpine muzzles, which were lapping up and down his needy, dripping shaft with great gusto. Renamon had taken it upon herself to grip the base, holding Robin’s member steady as she ran her smaller, light pink tongue up and down, trying to lap up all the excess that seemed to be copiously flowing and escaping the other eager mouths working him over. Krystal was turning her head this way and that, her lips and tongue doing things to the underside of Robin’s glans that, he had to admit, were very likely sinful, even as one of her delicate hands stroked his hot cock, squeezing occasionally at the slight swelling at its base, where Robin’s ancestors (if one believed the sages who told of such things) had possessed a knot, but which now served to provide a bit of extra stimulation for a lady in need. Speaking of ladies in need, Robin’s own lady had her sweet, pretty muzzle sealed quite firmly around the slit at the tip of the tod’s cockhead, and was determinedly trying her level best to greedily slurp down every last drop of his precum. This endeavor was, of course, doomed to failure, mostly due to Marion’s lack of experience in such matters, though also because of Robin’s rather copious output. Thankfully, Renamon and Krystal seemed more than eager to take up the slack.
As Robin rose up on his elbows to better take stock of the delightfully arousing situation before him, three pairs of eyes turned to look up at him, the expressions on each vixen’s face so desperately needy that it frankly rent his heart to think of the desperation they must have felt, being so deeply in the middle of their most fertile phases, with a ready male right to hand, and not able to get him to act on their needs because of his sheer laziness (or so it must have seemed to them).
“Thank you for your patience, dear ladies,” Robin said drolly as he rose still further, until he was kneeling before the trio of lovely females, who reluctantly released his rampant shaft, which bobbed between his legs as Renamon relinquished her grip. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting so long. But, if you will just assume a more appropriate position, I’m sure that I can make it all up to you.”
Marion shared an eager look with her two otherworldly companions, and all three immediately turned, lowering themselves to the universal ‘presentation’ position known far and wide by all decent animals: on all-fours, head lowered near the ground, rumps lifted high, tails flagged and turned slightly to the side to provide ease of access. Robin couldn’t help but laugh.
“Now, what man could resist an offer like that?” he asked rhetorically, moving forward, hands reaching out.
“Don’t forget,” Marion said, looking over her shoulder, along with Renamon and Krystal, their eager, needy eyes keen with interest as they observed Robin’s every move, “you didn’t . . .”
“Oh, I know, my dearest darling,” said Robin, his hands gripping his mate’s upturned tush, drawing her nearer as his hips angled forward, until he felt the throbbing, flared tip of his cock teasing firmly against her needy wet cunny. “I neglected you earlier, and for that I beg your forgiveness. I only hope that this can make up for a part of my failings.”
Marion’s sweet, mewling cry was all the answer Robin needed as he slid home into her smooth, slick depths, the needy red-furred vixen’s inner walls milking him in her eagerness for his hot mansap. But Robin didn’t stop there, for he saw as blue and yellow vixens alike began to press against Marion from either side, looking back at him with their wide, eager eyes. Renamon’s rump lifted a bit higher, her firm muscles clenching with her tension, while Krystal wriggled her cute little tushie, pressing it backwards in open invitation. The pair of vixens might have refrained from speaking, not wanting to interrupt the pleasures of their comrade in ecstasy, but they didn’t want their own needs to be forgotten either.
Now firmly in place, his hips working at a firm, steady pace that would let him last for as long as was needed (which was not likely to be that long, considering how wet Marion was already), Robin’s hands left her hips, and instead slid deftly along the sweet creases of the other two vixens’ presented bottoms. His fingers soon found their wet quims, his thumbs maneuvering a bit before he located each vixen’s snug, tensing tailhole, before Robin gripped them firmly in that fashion, in a grip not dissimilar to one he might have used on a ball while playing ninepins. His hips arching forward and back now, his hands shifting and pumping with a similar rhythm, the tod was soon rewarded with the sweet cries of three eagerly pleased vixens, and the deliciously erotic feel of three perfect little bums pressing back into his efforts.
‘I don’t know what the children will look like,’ Robin thought to himself as he let the pleasure take him, ‘but I will admit, this has been a most fortunate chain of events.’ Then he winced as Marion clenched down on him, crying out in what would be the first of many, many orgasms, orgasms that would soon be shared by her newfound friends. ‘I only hope that my stamina is equal to the task.’
- 1
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Otherworld Vixens