Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

The Love of Ladies Behind Locked Doors.	By : Menydragon5 Category: -Misc Video Games/RPGs > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1305 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Disclaimer I do not own any character or all characters in these stories. And AI has been used in all oneshots within this collection.

Chapter List
- 33
- 34
The sidewalk stretched endlessly before Elmyra, each step echoing the hollow thud of rejection. Tears blurred her vision, tracing sticky paths through her peach-colored ink skin. "He said... he said I was *too much*," she hiccuped to the indifferent lamppost, her baby-talk voice thick with misery. "Montana Max doesn't appreciate cuddles or my special forehead kisses! Who doesn't love forehead kisses?" She kicked a pebble, watching it skitter into the gutter. "Stupid, mean, *un-cute* boy with his dumb money and dumb sneer!" Her shoulders slumped, the gerbil skull on her hair bow glinting dully under the streetlight. "Now I'll never get to brush his widdle eyebrows or tuck him into a onesie..."

A sudden gust of wind slapped a garishly colored flyer against her face. "Eep!" Elmyra flailed, cartoon eyes bulging momentarily before she peeled the paper off. "Ooh! Pretty colors!" She squinted, her tears momentarily forgotten. "‘Le Spa de la Tranquilité’?" she read aloud, mangling the French pronunciation into something resembling ‘Le Spah duh lah Tran-kwill-ity’. "‘Grand Opening! Experience Ultimate Relaxation with Our Expert Touch. Melt Away Tensions. Walk-ins Welcome!’" A slow, wobbly smile spread across her lips. "A massage place! Like for people who are all knotted up inside!" She patted her own shoulders dramatically. "That's me! All knotted! From mean boys!"

With renewed, if slightly misguided, purpose, Elmyra spun on her heel, Mary Janes clicking decisively. "No more sad-walking! Elmyra needs pampering!" She marched a few paces, then stopped abruptly, glancing furtively down the deserted street. A mischievous glint replaced the sadness in her big black eyes. "But... maybe not *this* Elmyra," she whispered conspiratorially to herself. Reaching behind her neck, her fingers found a small, almost invisible cartoon zipper pull. With a soft *rrrriiiipppp*, she unzipped her own back. Out stepped her true self – taller, fuller-figured, the baby-doll clothes melting away into a sleek light blue shirt and a short white skirt that hugged her curvy hips. Her red hair flowed freely, the childish bow and skull gone. She stretched languidly, a low, more mature hum escaping her lips. "Ah, much better. Time for some *grown-up* relaxation." She crumpled the childish shell into a tiny ball and tucked it into her skirt pocket like a used tissue, smoothing her blouse before striding towards the address on the flyer, her high heels clicking a confident rhythm on the pavement.

The bell above the door of 'Le Spa de la Tranquilité' gave a delicate *ting-a-ling* as Elmyra pushed it open. Inside, the air was warm and thick with the scent of lavender and something vaguely coconutty. A bored-looking woman with mousy brown hair pulled into a severe bun sat behind a high reception desk, idly flipping through a magazine. She glanced up, her standard greeting already forming on her lips. "Welcome to Le Spa de la Tranquilité, how can we—" The words died in her throat. Her jaw literally *thudded* onto the polished wood of the countertop with a cartoonish clatter, her eyes bulging out of her head on springs, dangling comically for a second before snapping back in with a *boing* sound. "Holy smokes!" she gasped, her voice cracking. "You... you're... wow! Like, *really* wow!"

Elmyra paused just inside the doorway, a faint, knowing smile playing on her full, red-lipsticked lips. She tilted her head slightly, letting her long red hair cascade over one shoulder. "Oh?" she purred, her voice low and smooth, a world away from her usual baby-talk. "Is there a problem, *cherie*?" She took a step closer, the click of her heels echoing in the suddenly silent room.

The receptionist scrambled to pick her jaw up off the desk, her cheeks flushing crimson. "N-no! No problem! Just... wasn't expecting... um..." She gestured vaguely at Elmyra's hourglass figure, her gaze lingering on the generous swell of her chest beneath the light blue silk. "You're just... incredibly... um... *radiant* today!"

"Merci," Elmyra murmured, her gaze sweeping the small, dimly lit reception area. "I believe I require a massage. To... *unwind*." She leaned a hip against the counter, the movement effortless and drawing the receptionist's wide-eyed stare.

"Of course! Absolutely!" the woman stammered, fumbling with a ledger. "We have... uh... Room Three available. Down the hall, last door on the left." She scribbled something illegible. "One of our girls... uh... *specialists*... will be with you shortly. Just... make yourself comfortable! Very comfortable!" She swallowed hard, unable to tear her eyes away as Elmyra offered a slow, enigmatic smile. "Perfect," Elmyra breathed, turning towards the hallway, the sway of her hips hypnotic. The receptionist watched her go, jaw slack again, before shaking her head and muttering, "Wowzers. Hope Fifi’s ready for *that*."

The moment Elmyra disappeared down the dimly lit corridor, the receptionist slammed a bright red button under the counter. A distant *buzz* echoed. Seconds later, a door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’ burst open. Fifi La Fume emerged, stretching languidly, her massive purple-and-white tail unfurling like a luxurious feather boa. She adjusted the pink bow over one eye, a hopeful gleam in her own. "Ooh-la-la!" she chirped, her French accent thick. "Did ze little bell ring? Do we 'ave a new client, *ma chérie*? Please tell me eet ees a 'andsome 'omme? Tall? Strong? Smells faintly of musk and... *possibilité*?" She leaned eagerly over the counter, cartoon hearts threatening to shimmer above her head.

The receptionist waved a dismissive hand, still flustered. "Woman. Didn't get her name. Just walked in." Fifi’s hopeful expression instantly deflated. Her shoulders slumped, her tail drooped, and she rolled her large, expressive eyes so hard they made an audible *squeak*. "Oh, *merde*," she sighed dramatically, her voice losing its flirtatious lilt. "Another femme? Zey always want ze deep tissue or ze hot stones. No fun. No *romance*." She propped her chin on her fist, pouting. "Eet ees always ze same. Where are ze strong arms? Ze broad shoulders? Ze..." She trailed off, making a vague, yearning gesture.

"Trust me," the receptionist interrupted, leaning forward conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. "This one's... *different*. Tall, like a model. Curves that could launch ships. Long red hair like spilled ink. And the *look* she gave me? Like she knew exactly what she wanted, and it wasn't just a back rub. She practically oozed... *intention*. Said she needed to 'unwind'." She waggled her eyebrows meaningfully.

Fifi just rolled her eyes again, unconvinced, the cartoon hearts above her head fizzling into nothingness. "*Pfft*. Intention? She probably just wants me to work on her 'widdle knotty shoulders'. Like zat Elmyra pest, always wanting to be squeezed until her eyes pop out! 'Ooh, Fifi, make it better! Make the ouchies go bye-bye!'" Fifi mimicked Elmyra's baby-talk voice with exaggerated disdain, puffing out her cheeks and fluttering her eyelashes stupidly. "Eet ees exhausting! And zat *odeur* she carries? Like desperation and crushed gerbil dreams! Non, *merci*. Give me a grumpy businessman any day. At least 'e might 'ave a nice tie I can accidentally... snare." She flicked her tail suggestively.

Grumbling under her breath about "ungrateful femmes" and "wasted talents," Fifi stomped down the hallway towards Room Three, her fluffy tail dragging sulkily behind her like a deflated balloon. "*Encore une femme*," she muttered darkly, pushing the door open with more force than necessary. "Bonjour, Madame! Prepare to be—" Her voice cut off mid-flirtatious spiel as her gaze landed on the figure reclining face-down on the massage table.

The air crackled. Fifi froze mid-stride, her jaw dropping open with an audible *thunk* as it hit the floor. Her eyes didn't just bulge; they shot out of her skull on cartoon springs, dangling wildly before snapping back with a sharp *boing*. Her pupils instantly morphed into pulsing, crimson cartoon hearts. Above her head, a constellation of shimmering pink hearts burst into existence, swirling frantically. "*Mon Dieu...*" she breathed, the sound a husky rasp utterly unlike her usual chirp. Her own massive heart visibly stretched *thump-thump-thump* against her chest beneath her fur, straining towards the vision before her. The scent of lavender and coconut was obliterated by the sudden, overwhelming musk of pure, unadulterated skunk lust radiating from Fifi's pores. "*Qui... qui êtes-vous?*" she stammered, forgetting all English, her entire body trembling.

Elmyra, resting her cheek on the padded face cradle, had been idly tracing patterns on the vinyl. The door's slam made her flinch. She started to turn her head, a practiced, soothing nurse-smile forming on her lips. "Ah, hello, I was just—" The words died as her gaze locked onto Fifi's transformed face – the heart-shaped eyes, the swirling pink hearts, the palpable wave of musk hitting her like a physical blow. Recognition warred with primal, shocking desire deep within Elmyra. *Fifi?* The bimbo skunk? Impossible! Yet... the purple fur, the bow... but the *heat* radiating from her... Elmyra's own breath hitched. A fierce, unfamiliar heat pooled low in her belly, a throbbing pulse echoing Fifi's frantic heartbeat. Her fingers clenched into the vinyl, knuckles whitening. Every instinct screamed *pounce, pin her down, claim that scent, that trembling form*. She fought it down, a low, involuntary growl rumbling in her throat before she choked it back. "*Calme-toi, Elmyra,*" she hissed internally in perfect French, forcing her voice into a strained semblance of calm professionalism that cracked at the edges. "I... I am simply... a client seeking relaxation, *mademoiselle*." The effort to keep her hands flat on the table, not reaching out, made sweat bead on her temples.

Fifi’s world had narrowed to the curve of Elmyra’s spine beneath the thin sheet, the spill of red ink hair over the table’s edge. Her own French accent thickened, laced with disbelief and burgeoning hunger. "*Mais... mais vous êtes... incroyable,*" she stammered, taking a shaky step forward, her tail unconsciously coiling like a spring-loaded trap. The scent of her own arousal mingled violently with the lavender oil. "*Je... je ne comprends pas...*" This dizzying pull towards another *female*? It shattered her worldview. She usually chased fleeing backsides! Yet here stood... perfection. Unmoving. Vulnerable. *Hers*. The sheer proximity made her knees weak. "*Quel genre de massage... désirez-vous?*" The question tumbled out, desperate, needing direction before she simply fell upon her.

Elmyra squeezed her eyes shut. The skunk’s trembling voice, thick with raw want, sent electric jolts down her spine. She could feel the heat radiating from Fifi’s body drawing nearer. The fight within her was brutal – the lifelong predator instinct warring against this terrifying, delicious new prey drive. She wanted to roll over, grab Fifi’s wrist, pull her down onto the table. To bury her face in that purple fur, inhale that musk until she drowned. Instead, she dug her nails deeper into the vinyl. "*Full body,*" she gasped, the words escaping before she could cage them, low and husky, devoid of any baby-talk, stripped bare. "*Tout le corps. S'il vous plaît.*" The admission hung in the thick, scented air, a surrender to the inevitable touch she both craved and feared.

Fifi’s heart-shaped eyes widened impossibly further. "*Tout le corps?*" she echoed, her voice a breathless rasp. The words vibrated with a significance that transcended mere massage. Her trembling fingers hovered over the sheet covering Elmyra’s back, inches away from contact. "*Oui... oui, bien sûr...*" The scent of her own musk intensified, thick and cloying, mingling with the lavender oil until the air felt like warm syrup. She couldn't tear her gaze from the elegant line of Elmyra’s spine, the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips beneath the thin fabric. Every nerve ending screamed. This wasn't chasing; this was... *receiving*. A tremor ran through Fifi’s tail as it twitched involuntarily, yearning to coil possessively around Elmyra’s ankle. "*Je... je commence par le dos?*" The question was barely audible, choked with disbelief at her own actions – offering service, not pursuit.

Elmyra’s breath hitched as she felt the displaced air from Fifi’s hovering hand. The predator in her recoiled at the vulnerability – lying prone before an animal toon she usually hunted! Yet the heat pooling low in her belly surged, a molten counterpoint to the cool vinyl beneath her cheek. "*Oui,*" she managed, the single syllable strained, betraying the war within. Her fingers flexed against the table edge. "*S'il te plaît.*" The informal address slipped out, a dangerous intimacy. She felt the sheet shift slightly as Fifi’s trembling fingers finally made contact, not with skin, but with the fabric over her shoulders. The touch, tentative yet electric, sent a jolt through Elmyra that tightened her muscles instead of relaxing them. A low, involuntary sound escaped her throat – half gasp, half whimper.

Fifi froze, her heart-shaped eyes widening further. "*Mon Dieu,*" she breathed, the scent of her own arousal thickening the air like fog. "*Tu es... si tendue.*" Her French flowed unchecked, a river of husky disbelief. Her fingers, guided by instinct deeper than training, began to knead the fabric, seeking the knots beneath. The sheer proximity, the scent of Elmyra’s skin beneath the floral spa oils – peaches and something uniquely, maddeningly *her* – was overwhelming. Fifi leaned closer unconsciously, her breath warm against Elmyra’s ear. "*Laisse-moi t'aider...*" The whisper was pure velvet temptation, her usual flirtatious chirp replaced by a depth Fifi didn’t know she possessed. Her thumb brushed accidentally against the bare skin at the nape of Elmyra’s neck.

Elmyra jerked as if shocked. "*Ah!*" The gasp was sharp, startled. Not pain. Something else entirely. She shivered violently, goosebumps erupting across her skin beneath the sheet. The predator instinct roared, demanding she flip over, pin the skunk down, dominate this dizzying reversal. But the unfamiliar, aching *need* held her paralyzed, savoring the illicit thrill of Fifi’s hesitant touch. She swallowed hard, forcing her voice past the tightness in her throat. "*Je... je ne savais pas...*" she began, the words thick, confessional. "*Que cela pourrait... sentir ainsi.*" The admission hung heavy – not just the scent, but the *sensation*, the terrifying pull.

Fifi blinked, her cartoon heart visibly pounding against her ribs. The words registered slowly through the haze of lust. She’d been speaking... only French? To this goddess? Mortification warred with desire. She shook her head sharply, her fluffy ears flopping. "*Oh! Pardonne-moi!*" she stammered, her accent thicker than ever in her fluster. "*I... I forget myself!*" Her hands paused their kneading, hovering nervously. "*You are... so beautiful... it makes Fifi... stupid.*" She blurted it out, raw and honest, her heart-shaped eyes locked on the curve of Elmyra’s jaw where it rested on the cradle. "*I speak only French like a silly goose! Forgive Fifi?*" The plea was earnest, tinged with a desperate hope that the spell wouldn’t break. Her tail twitched anxiously behind her.

Elmyra slowly turned her head on the cradle, her red ink hair spilling like silk. She looked over her shoulder, meeting Fifi’s wide, crimson-heart eyes. A slow, genuine smile curved her lips – warm, inviting, utterly devoid of Elmyra’s usual manic cheer. Her gaze held Fifi’s, intense and knowing. "It's more than OK, *ma belle mouffette*," she murmured, her voice low and smooth, the French endearment ('my beautiful skunk') rolling effortlessly off her tongue. The baby-talk was gone, replaced by a resonant, feminine warmth that vibrated through the small room. "Truly." She held Fifi’s gaze for a heartbeat longer, letting the reassurance sink in, then added a playful, deliberate wink. "*Parle comme tu veux.* Speak as you wish." The permission was absolute, an open door.

Fifi’s breath caught. The smile. The wink. The deep, *real* voice calling her beautiful. It was like sunshine breaking through storm clouds. A soft, involuntary whimper escaped her lips. The swirling hearts above her head pulsed brighter, faster. "*Merci... merci beaucoup,*" she breathed, her trembling fingers finally sinking back into the sheet, finding the taut muscles of Elmyra’s shoulder blade. This time, her touch was surer, infused with a dawning wonder. "*You... you speak French? Like... like ze angels?*" Her thumbs pressed into a knot near Elmyra’s spine, eliciting a low hum of pleasure from the woman beneath her hands. "*And your voice...*" Fifi trailed off, mesmerized by the feel of warm skin and firm muscle beneath her pads. "*Eet ees not... not like before.*"

Elmyra sighed, a sound of pure, deep relief mingled with something richer as Fifi’s skilled fingers found the tension. "The mask slips sometimes," she confessed softly, her voice muffled slightly against the cradle but still resonant. She arched her back subtly into the pressure, a silent plea for more. "*Surtout ici.* Especially here." She turned her head slightly again, just enough to catch Fifi’s eye once more. Her expression was open, vulnerable in a way the skunk had never seen. "With you... it feels safe to let it fall." The admission hung between them, charged and intimate. "*Continue, Fifi. S'il te plaît.*" Her gaze lingered, heavy with unspoken promise, before she settled her cheek back down, surrendering completely to the skunk’s touch. Fifi’s answering breath was shaky, her fingers moving with renewed purpose, tracing the lines of Elmyra’s back as if committing them to memory.

Fifi poured warm oil onto her palms, the scent of lavender momentarily intensifying before blending with their own potent musk. Her hands smoothed down Elmyra’s spine, starting broad strokes across the sculpted shoulders. "*Your back...*" Fifi murmured, her French accent thick with awe. "*C'est une carte de tension.*" Her thumbs pressed firmly alongside the vertebrae, seeking out knots. "*Ici...*" She found a stubborn one near the shoulder blade, digging in with gentle insistence. Elmyra hissed softly, her body tensing, then melting as Fifi worked the tightness loose. "*Oui...*" Elmyra breathed, the word dissolving into a low moan. "*Juste là.*" Fifi felt the tremor run through Elmyra’s frame, a ripple of release beneath her palms. "*You hold so much,*" Fifi whispered, her voice husky. "*Let Fifi carry it for you.*" Her hands slid lower, gliding over the dip of Elmyra’s waist towards the small of her back.

Reaching the delicate curve above Elmyra’s hips, Fifi’s touch became feather-light, reverent. "*Et ici...*" Her thumbs pressed small, deliberate circles into the dimples at the base of Elmyra’s spine. Elmyra gasped, her hips lifting slightly off the table, a sharp intake of breath escaping her. "*Fifi!*" It was half-surprise, half-pleasure, utterly devoid of the childish squeal Fifi knew. "*C'est... sensible,*" Elmyra managed, her voice strained.

Fifi smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips unseen by Elmyra. "*Oui,*" she purred, her fingers lingering, applying just enough pressure to make Elmyra shiver. "*Très sensible.*" She felt the muscles flutter beneath her touch, a taut string plucked. "*Relax, ma belle,*" Fifi coaxed, her hands smoothing outwards over the flare of Elmyra’s hips. "*Laisse-toi aller.*" Elmyra’s answering sigh was long and shuddering, her body sinking deeper into the table as if boneless.

Fifi moved silently to the foot of the table. Elmyra’s feet were elegant, high arches dusted faintly with freckles. Fifi took one slender foot gently in both hands. "*Tes petits pieds,*" she murmured, pouring more warm oil. Her thumbs began a firm, rhythmic kneading from the heel, working up towards the toes. Elmyra whimpered, her toes curling instinctively before Fifi gently uncurled them with a soft chuckle. "*Non, non,*" Fifi chided softly, her thumbs pressing into the ball of Elmyra’s foot. "*Relâche.*" Elmyra gasped as Fifi found a particularly tender spot. "*Ah!* Like... like sparks!" Fifi focused there, her touch alternating between deep pressure and soothing strokes. "*You walk too much in those heels, non?*" Fifi teased gently, feeling the tension dissolve under her ministrations. Elmyra’s answering groan was pure, unadulterated bliss. "*Oui... toujours.*"

Satisfied with the feet, Fifi’s oiled hands slid upwards, wrapping around Elmyra’s slender calves. Her fingers traced the defined muscles, firm from use. "*Et les mollets...*" Fifi murmured, her thumbs digging deep into the taut cords running down the back of Elmyra’s legs. Elmyra cried out softly, her legs tensing momentarily before yielding completely to Fifi’s strong, insistent pressure. "*Mon Dieu, Fifi...*" Elmyra breathed, her voice thick. "*Tu es... incroyable.*" Fifi worked methodically, feeling knots surrender beneath her touch, her own heart pounding against her ribs. She lingered, massaging upwards towards the sensitive backs of Elmyra’s knees, eliciting another sharp gasp and a full-body shiver that rippled visibly beneath the sheet. "*Presque fini,*" Fifi promised, her voice low and intimate. Her hands drifted higher, bypassing the knees, gliding slowly, deliberately up the smooth expanse of Elmyra’s thighs.

Fifi’s palms smoothed over the sheet covering Elmyra’s thighs, the warmth radiating through the thin fabric. She applied firm, broad strokes, starting at the back of the knees and moving upwards towards the glorious curve of Elmyra’s hips. The muscles here were powerful, yet yielding under Fifi’s touch. "*Ces cuisses...*" Fifi breathed, her voice thick with reverence. Her thumbs pressed deep circles into the hamstrings, finding hidden pockets of tension Elmyra hadn't known existed. Elmyra moaned, low and guttural, her hips shifting restlessly against the table. "*Fifi... c’est trop...*" she gasped, the words dissolving into a shuddering sigh as Fifi’s fingers worked magic. "*Non,*" Fifi countered softly, her touch unwavering. "*C’est juste ce dont tu as besoin.*" She felt the tremor run through Elmyra’s entire leg, a wave of release that made the woman beneath her hands arch slightly.

Reaching the apex where thigh met buttock, Fifi hesitated. The sheet dipped low here, revealing the very top swell of Elmyra’s ass. Fifi’s heart-shaped eyes fixed on that tantalizing sliver of peach skin. Her breath hitched. She bit her bottom lip hard enough to feel her own sharp teeth. The urge to peek lower, to see the forbidden treasure hidden beneath the sheet, was a physical ache. *Mon Dieu,* she thought, her tail twitching nervously behind her. *She is so... exposed. So close.* Fifi glanced furtively towards the reader, a conspiratorial smirk playing on her lips. "*Psst,*" she whispered, her voice barely audible over Elmyra’s soft sighs. "*Do not try zis at home, mes amis. Eet ees très naughty! Fifi knows... but eet is only for ze story, non? For ze... entertainment.*" She winked, her cheeks flushing purple beneath her fur. The thrill of the forbidden sent a jolt through her.

Fifi’s fingers trembled as they traced the very edge of the sheet where it met the lush curve of Elmyra’s hip. Her thumb brushed *just* underneath the hem, grazing warm, bare skin. Elmyra gasped sharply, her body tensing. "*Fifi?*" The name was a question, laden with surprise and something else—something breathless. Panic flared in Fifi’s chest. *She knows! She will be furious!* Fifi snatched her hand back as if burned. "*P-Pardonne-moi!*" she stammered, her voice cracking. "*I... my hand, it slipped!*" She stared wide-eyed at Elmyra’s profile, bracing for anger, for rejection, for the terrifying end of this impossible intimacy.

Elmyra slowly turned her head on the cradle. Her gaze met Fifi’s terrified one. There was no anger in those dark eyes. Only a deep, smoldering heat, and a faint, knowing smile. "*Did it?*" Elmyra murmured, her voice a low purr that vibrated through Fifi’s bones. She shifted subtly, deliberately, causing the sheet to ride infinitesimally lower on her hip. "*Perhaps...*" she continued, her eyes holding Fifi’s captive, "*...you should be more careful where you put your hands, ma belle mouffette.*" The challenge, wrapped in velvet, hung thick in the lavender-scented air. Fifi’s heart pounded like a drum against her ribs.

The fear melted, replaced by a dizzying wave of pure, reckless desire. Elmyra wasn’t mad. She was... inviting. Fifi’s trembling hand hovered near the exposed skin again, drawn like a magnet. "*Oui...*" Fifi breathed, her voice barely a whisper. "*I will be... très careful.*" Her fingertips brushed the warm skin just below the sheet’s edge once more, this time with deliberate slowness. Elmyra’s answering sigh was pure, unadulterated surrender.

Fifi’s breath hitched. The invitation pulsed in the air, thick and undeniable. Her fingers, trembling only slightly now, hooked onto the edge of the white ink sheet. Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, she drew it upwards over the breathtaking swell of Elmyra’s hips. The fabric slid, revealing the smooth, peach ink expanse of her lower back, the deep dimples above her ass, and then... the glorious, full curves themselves. Fifi’s jaw dropped open with an audible *thud*, her cartoon eyes bulging impossibly wide, straining against their sockets. A low, involuntary wolf whistle tore from her throat, sharp and piercing in the quiet room. "*Mon Dieu...*" she gasped, her voice thick with awe. "*C'est magnifique... parfait...*" Before her lay the most exquisite sight she'd ever witnessed: the woman’s round, firm asscheeks glistening faintly with oil, the deep cleft between them shadowed and impossibly alluring. Below, nestled against the apex of her thighs, Fifi caught a glimpse of slick, pink folds glistening with unmistakable wetness. The musky scent intensified, flooding Fifi’s senses – lavender oil mingling with the raw, primal aroma of Elmyra’s arousal.

Rational thought evaporated. Fifi’s tongue lolled out of her mouth, dripping saliva onto the table edge. A low, desperate growl rumbled in her chest. The sight, the scent, the sheer *nearness* shattered every inhibition. She leaned down, her breath hot against Elmyra’s skin. Slowly, deliberately, her tongue traced the deep valley between those perfect cheeks, a long, wet stripe from the base of Elmyra’s spine down to the tight, puckered rosebud nestled below. Elmyra gasped, her entire body tensing then arching upwards, pressing her ass back against Fifi’s face with a choked cry. "*Fifi!*"

The taste exploded on Fifi's tongue – musky, salty, uniquely *Elmyra* – sending a jolt of pure electricity straight to her core. Her cartoon heart stretched visibly beneath her fur, pounding against the massage table's edge. "*Tu es délicieuse,*" Fifi groaned, her voice muffled against warm skin, her entire world narrowed to the tight, fluttering ring beneath her probing tongue. She pressed deeper, swirling insistently, rewarded by Elmyra’s sharp cry transforming into a ragged moan.

Elmyra’s hips bucked wildly, grinding back against Fifi’s face, her fingers clawing at the table’s edge. "*Arrête! Non... ne t'arrête pas!*" she gasped, the command dissolving into a desperate whimper. "*Plus fort!*"

Fifi obeyed with fervent abandon. Her tongue became a relentless piston, delving deep into the tight, clenching heat of Elmyra’s asshole. Each thrust drew another choked sob of pleasure from the woman beneath her. The scent of sex and sweat, thick and primal, mingled with lavender oil, filling Fifi’s nostrils, driving her wild. Her own arousal soaked her fur between her legs, a hot, insistent ache demanding attention she ignored, wholly focused on the trembling perfection pressed against her mouth. Elmyra’s moans rose in pitch, becoming high, keening cries that echoed off the tiled walls. "*Fifi! Je... je vais...*" she gasped, her body rigid, trembling on the precipice.

Suddenly, Elmyra arched violently off the table, a strangled scream tearing from her throat. Her entire body convulsed, muscles locking, as wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through her. Fifi felt the tight ring clench rhythmically around her tongue, milking it fiercely. She held on, lapping eagerly at the fluttering pulse, drinking in Elmyra’s ecstatic cries until they softened into shuddering gasps. Elmyra collapsed bonelessly onto the table, her breath coming in ragged hitches, a sheen of sweat glistening on her back. "*Mon Dieu...*" she whispered hoarsely, utterly spent.

Fifi finally pulled back, her tongue slick and tingling. She gazed down at the ravished landscape – the glistening cleft, the trembling cheeks, the utterly relaxed form of the gorgeous redhead. Red cartoon hearts still pulsed frantically above Fifi’s head, but her expression was one of stunned, breathless triumph. She wiped her mouth with the back of her paw, a slow, deeply satisfied smirk spreading across her purple muzzle. "*Eh bien,*" she murmured, her voice husky with exertion and awe. "*Zat... zat was a first.*" Her tail twitched nervously, yet proudly, behind her. "*For both of us, non?*"

Elmyra lay utterly limp, her breathing shallow and rapid. Slowly, she pushed herself up onto her elbows, turning to face Fifi. Her dark eyes were wide, pupils blown, her face flushed a deep peach beneath the freckles. Her lips, smudged slightly from the cradle, parted in a dazed smile. "*Fifi...*" she breathed, the name sounding utterly different now – deeper, richer, stripped of the childish squeak. "*That... mon Dieu... that was...*" Words failed her. She reached out a trembling hand, fingers brushing Fifi’s furry forearm.

Fifi blushed fiercely, the purple deepening beneath her fur. She hadn't gotten the woman's name yet! "*O-oui?*" she stammered, her heart-shaped eyes fixed on Elmyra’s face, captivated by the raw vulnerability and lingering heat she saw there. "*Was it... was it acceptable?*"

Suddenly, Elmyra surged forward. Not with childish glee, but with a fierce, possessive intensity Fifi had never seen. She wrapped her arms around the skunkette in a tight, but not crushing, embrace, burying her face in Fifi’s furry neck. "*Acceptable?*" Elmyra’s voice was muffled against Fifi’s fur, thick with emotion and something primal. "*Ma petite mouffette parfumée...*" She pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along Fifi’s jawline, each one leaving a distinct, perfect imprint of red ink lipstick on the purple fur. "*Ma belle fleur puante...*" Another kiss landed near Fifi’s ear. "*Mon petit trésor malodorant...*"

Fifi froze, her eyes widening impossibly. Her cartoon jaw dropped open with a soft *thud*. Those names... "*Attendez...*" she breathed, pulling back slightly to stare into Elmyra’s smoldering eyes. Confusion warred with dawning recognition. "*Zose names... 'My little stinky skunk'... 'My beautiful stinky flower'... 'My smelly little treasure'...*" Fifi’s voice trembled. "*Only... only one person ever called Fifi zose things. Only... Elmyra.*" The pieces slammed together – the red hair, the freckles glimpsed earlier, the sheer *intensity* beneath the disguise. "*Elmyra Duff?*" The name was a shocked whisper. "*But... you... you are...*" Her gaze swept over the stunning, mature woman before her – the curves, the heat, the raw sensuality – utterly unlike the squealing child she knew. "*Not a little girl?*"

Elmyra chuckled, a low, throaty sound Fifi had never heard from her before. "*Oh, Fifi,*" she murmured, her voice dropping completely into that rich, adult register, smooth as honey and utterly devoid of baby talk. "*Sweet, gullible Fifi.*" A wry smile touched her lips. "*The Elmyra you know? The bows, the squeals, the 'cute-wutes'?*" She gestured dismissively at the discarded outfit crumpled on the floor. "*That's just... the costume. The character Acme Looniversity *needed* me to be.*" She leaned closer, her dark eyes locking onto Fifi’s. "*This?*" She traced a finger down her own smooth, peach-skinned neckline, drawing attention to the swell of her G-cup breasts that are in full naked glory. "*This is how I was *really* drawn first. Before the writers decided Acme needed a 'cute' little menace.*" Her expression softened with a hint of old frustration. "*They took my original design... my *real* voice... and buried them under layers of pink ink and baby talk. Made me hunt 'hippity-hops' instead of...*" Her gaze flickered hungrily over Fifi’s form. "*...other, more *interesting* prey.*"

Fifi’s mind reeled. "*But... but why? Why pretend?*" Her tail twitched nervously. "*All zis time... ze chasing, ze squeezing... zat was just... an act?*" A flicker of hurt crossed her features. "*You never really wanted to... to 'love me to death'?*"

Elmyra’s laugh was sharp, almost bitter. "*Oh, I wanted to 'love' you, Fifi. Desperately.*" Her hand shot out, capturing Fifi’s wrist with surprising strength. Her grip wasn't painful, but firm, anchoring. "*But not like *that*. Not as a squealing child stuffing you into a frilly dress.*" Her thumb stroked the soft fur on Fifi’s inner wrist, sending shivers up the skunkette’s spine. "*I wanted *this*. The heat. The scent of you driving me wild.*" She leaned in, her breath hot against Fifi’s ear, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "*But the 'character'... the 'costume'... it trapped me. Made me act like a fool whenever I saw you.*" Her other hand cupped Fifi’s cheek, forcing the skunkette to meet her intense gaze. "*Until tonight. Until *you* touched me... tasted me... made me feel things that stupid bow couldn't contain.*" Her lips brushed Fifi’s, feather-light, a promise. "*The costume’s off, Fifi. This is me. The *real* Elmyra. And she wants *you*.*"

Fifi’s breath caught. The confusion, the hurt, melted away under the raw heat in Elmyra’s eyes. "*Vraiment?*" she breathed, her voice trembling. "*You... you want Fifi? Like... like *zat*?*" She gestured vaguely towards the massage table, still gleaming with oil and sweat. Pink cartoon hearts began to pulse erratically above her head, mingling with the lingering red ones.

Elmyra didn’t answer with words. She surged forward, capturing Fifi’s lips in a kiss that was nothing like the tentative brush before. It was deep, hungry, demanding. Fifi gasped, her cartoon eyes instantly morphing into pulsing red hearts. Her own lips parted instinctively, yielding to the fierce pressure. Elmyra’s tongue swept into her mouth, hot and insistent, tasting of mint and something uniquely, intensely *her*. Fifi moaned into the kiss, a sound muffled by the passionate onslaught. Above them, pink cartoon hearts exploded into existence, shimmering brightly before popping like soap bubbles, only to be instantly replaced by new ones. "*Mmmph... Elmyra...*" Fifi managed to whimper against her mouth, her paws clutching desperately at Elmyra’s bare shoulders.

Instinctively, Fifi’s massive tail whipped forward. It coiled possessively around Elmyra’s waist, pulling their bodies flush together. The soft, dense fur pressed against Elmyra’s sweat-slicked skin. Fifi’s paws slid down from Elmyra’s shoulders, trembling slightly as they encountered the incredible softness and weight of Elmyra’s G-cup breasts. Her fingers sank into the yielding flesh, thumbs brushing over stiff, pebbled nipples. "*Mon Dieu!*" Fifi gasped, breaking the kiss only for a second, her heart-shaped eyes wide with awe as she squeezed gently, feeling the incredible fullness spill between her fingers. "*Zese... zey are *magnifique*!*" She stared, mesmerized, at the perfect, bouncing orbs sheathed only in slick oil. "*How... how did you *hide* zem? Under zat little-girl shirt? Eet ees... impossible!*" Her tail tightened its grip, pulling Elmyra impossibly closer as her thumbs circled the dark pink areolas, drawing a low, throaty groan from the redhead. The pink hearts above them multiplied, shimmering furiously in the dim light.

Elmyra smirked, a predatory gleam in her dark eyes. "*Toon physics, ma belle fleur puante,*" she purred, her voice thick and rich, utterly devoid of its former squeak. Her hands slid down Fifi’s furry back, fingers tracing the curve of her spine before gripping the skunkette’s plump, purple asscheeks possessively. "*Compression panels. Strategic ink smudges. A *lot* of willpower.*" She leaned in, nipping playfully at Fifi’s lower lip. "*Worth it... to feel your hands on them now.*" Elmyra shifted her hips deliberately, grinding the slick heat between her thighs against Fifi’s furry mound. A jolt of pure electricity shot through Fifi at the contact.

"*Mmmph!*" Fifi whimpered, her cartoon eyes fluttering shut for a second as she felt the wetness soaking her own fur. Elmyra’s scent – lavender, sweat, and that raw musk – flooded Fifi’s senses anew. "*You... you are *wet*!*" Fifi breathed, her voice trembling. "*For Fifi?*"

Elmyra chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against Fifi’s chest. "*Since the moment you walked in smelling like forbidden spice,*" she confessed, her breath hot on Fifi’s neck. "*That little bow... those desperate eyes...*" Her fingers dug deeper into Fifi’s ass, pulling her tighter against the grinding friction. "*Watching you try *so hard*... mon Dieu, Fifi, it was torture.*" She captured Fifi’s lips again, silencing any reply with another deep, claiming kiss. Fifi moaned helplessly into it, her paws kneading Elmyra’s breasts with increasing urgency, her tail a thick, furry anchor binding them together. The scent of their combined arousal – Fifi’s sharp musk mingling with Elmyra’s deeper, muskier tang – filled the small room, thick and intoxicating. Elmyra’s hips rolled in a slow, deliberate rhythm against Fifi’s core, each movement sending sparks of pleasure radiating through the skunkette. "*Feel it?*" Elmyra murmured against her lips. "*How much I want you?*"

Fifi broke the kiss, panting, her cartoon heart visibly pounding beneath her fur. "*Oui...*" she gasped, her eyes wide, heart-shaped pools of pure lust fixed on Elmyra’s flushed face. "*Fifi... Fifi wants too!*" With surprising strength fueled by desperation, Fifi pushed Elmyra gently backwards until her naked backside bumped against the sturdy massage table. "*Lie down,*" Fifi commanded, her voice husky, trembling with need. "*For Fifi.*" Elmyra’s answering smirk was pure sin as she gracefully reclined onto the oil-slicked surface, spreading her legs deliberately. Her dark eyes locked onto Fifi’s, an unspoken challenge burning within them. Fifi scrambled onto the table, straddling Elmyra’s thighs. Her gaze swept hungrily over the breathtaking panorama before her: the flushed skin, the glistening breasts rising and falling with Elmyra’s rapid breaths, the dark triangle of curls below, slick and glistening. Fifi’s tongue darted out, wetting her lips. "*Zis time,*" she whispered, her voice thick with promise, "*Fifi ees going to taste... *everywhere*.*" She leaned down, her nose brushing the soft skin of Elmyra’s inner thigh, inhaling deeply the heady, primal scent emanating from the redhead’s glistening folds. A low growl rumbled in Fifi’s chest. "*Starting... here.*" Her hot breath ghosted over Elmyra’s exposed clit. Elmyra gasped, arching her back off the table, her hands flying to tangle in Fifi’s purple fur. "*Fifi!*"

Suddenly, Fifi froze mid-descent. Her cartoon eyes snapped up, locking onto Elmyra’s face. "*Attendez... juste une seconde, ma chérie,*" Fifi murmured, a flicker of something dark crossing her features. Before Elmyra could protest, Fifi scrambled off the table with surprising agility. Her gaze zeroed in on the discarded heap of Elmyra’s "little girl" costume – the white skirt crumpled near the table leg. She snatched it up, her claws digging into the cheap fabric. "*Disgusting!*" Fifi spat, her voice thick with sudden venom. She plunged a paw into the skirt pocket, rummaging violently. Her claws emerged clutching the tiny, folded replica of Elmyra’s childish disguise – the miniature blue blouse, the microscopic white socks, the absurdly tiny bow with its skull decoration. "*Zis...*" Fifi hissed, holding the tiny costume pinched between her claws like contaminated waste. Her eyes narrowed, cartoon flames erupting within them. Steam whistled furiously from her ears. "*Zis *lie*!*" With a snarl of pure revulsion, Fifi stormed across the room towards a small metal trash can. "*You trapped Fifi!*" she accused, her voice cracking. "*Made Fifi chase a ghost!*" She flung the tiny costume into the can. It landed with a pathetic rustle. "*NEVER AGAIN!*" Fifi roared. From seemingly nowhere, she produced a cartoonishly labeled "Lite Stick o' Dyna-Mite" – complete with a tiny, sizzling fuse. She struck a match against her hip, lit the fuse with a sharp *fwoosh*, and dropped it into the can. "*Au revoir, petite menteuse!*" She slammed the lid shut with a clang. Instantly, cartoon nails materialized and hammered themselves furiously around the rim, sealing it tight. Chains, thick and heavy, materialized from the air and wrapped themselves around the can with metallic *clinks*, binding it impossibly. With a grunt of effort, Fifi hefted the chained, sealed canister and hurled it straight through the closed window. Glass shattered spectacularly outward. Fifi spun around, jammed her index fingers deep into her ears, squeezed her eyes shut, and braced herself. "*BOOM!*" The muffled explosion outside rattled the walls. A plume of pink and black smoke briefly obscured the broken window frame. Fifi slowly lowered her paws from her ears, breathing heavily. The steam from her ears subsided. She turned back to Elmyra, her expression fierce, possessive, utterly devoid of the childish costume’s shadow. "*Now,*" Fifi declared, her voice low and dangerous, her heart-shaped eyes blazing with unfiltered lust. "*Where were we?*"

Elmyra lay frozen on the table, her eyes wide with shock, then dawning amusement, then pure, molten heat. She hadn't moved an inch, her legs still spread, her body glistening. A slow, predatory smile spread across her face, utterly unlike any expression the "little girl" Elmyra could ever muster. "*Right here,*" she purred, her voice dripping with dark promise. She hooked a finger, beckoning Fifi closer. "*Waiting for my little stinky skunk to finish demolishing the past... and start devouring the present.*" Her gaze flickered meaningfully downwards to her glistening core. "*Fifi...*" The name was a command, a plea, an incantation. "*Show me what you really want.*"

Fifi needed no further invitation. With a low growl that vibrated deep in her chest, she lunged forward, not back onto the table, but *between* Elmyra’s spread thighs. Her fingers gripped Elmyra’s hips, pulling her body to the very edge of the table. Fifi dropped to her knees on the cool tile floor. Her muzzle pressed urgently against the soft, damp curls. "*Zis,*" Fifi breathed, her hot breath washing over Elmyra’s slick flesh, "*is what Fifi wants.*" Her tongue, long and agile, darted out in one swift, flat stroke, parting the swollen lips from bottom to top. It dragged firmly over Elmyra’s throbbing clit.

"*Mon Dieu!*" Elmyra cried out, her back arching violently off the table, her hands flying down to clutch desperately at Fifi’s ears. "*Fifi!*"

Fifi didn’t pause. She buried her face deeper, her nose nudging against Elmyra’s mound as her tongue plunged inside with desperate hunger, lapping at the hot, salty-sweet essence flooding her mouth. She groaned, the vibration sending fresh tremors through Elmyra’s thighs. "*You taste... incroyable,*" Fifi gasped, pulling back only to flick her tongue rapidly over Elmyra’s swollen clit, circling it with pinpoint precision before sucking it hard between her lips.

Elmyra’s hips bucked wildly, a choked scream tearing from her throat. "*Yes! Like zat! Don't stop!*" Fifi obeyed, her tongue a relentless instrument of pleasure, mapping every fold, every ridge, drinking deeply as Elmyra’s moans crescendoed into ragged cries.

Suddenly, Fifi pulled back, panting, her muzzle glistening. "*Non,*" she declared, her heart-shaped eyes blazing. "*Not enough.*" With frantic hands, she clawed at her own waistline. "*Zese... zey must go!*" There was a faint *pop* and a shimmering ripple in the air around her hips and chest. Instantly, her plump, purple nipples sprang free, stiff and dark against her white chest fur. Below, the tight furl of her pink pussy lips and the tiny, darker pucker of her asshole were fully exposed, glistening slightly with her own arousal. She sighed dramatically, rubbing her hands over her freed breasts. "*Ahhh... enfin!*" she breathed. "*Zose invisible panties, zat bra... suffocating! Necessary for ze 'kiddies',*" she spat the word with disdain, "*but now... now Fifi ees FREE!*" She gave her breasts a firm, appreciative squeeze, her tail curling possessively.

Fifi scrambled back onto the table, positioning herself firmly between Elmyra’s long, spread legs. "*Look at you,*" Fifi breathed, her gaze raking over Elmyra’s glistening sex, then up to her flushed face. "*Magnifique.*" She leaned forward, pressing her own slick, exposed pussy firmly against Elmyra’s wet folds. A jolt of pure, electric heat surged through both of them. "*Ah!*" they gasped in unison. Fifi ground her hips forward, grinding her swollen clit against Elmyra’s, the friction delicious and immediate. Skin and fur slid against slick skin, creating a hot, wet friction that drew a deep, guttural moan from Elmyra. "*Feel it, ma chérie?*" Fifi whispered, her breath hot on Elmyra’s chest just below her large breasts as she rocked her hips in slow, deliberate circles. "*Fifi against you... skin to skin... no more lies.*"

"*Yes!*" Elmyra hissed, her hands clawing at Fifi’s furry back, pulling her impossibly closer. Her legs wrapped around Fifi’s waist, locking her in place. "*God, Fifi... harder!*" Fifi obeyed, her movements becoming faster, more urgent. Her breasts pressed against Elmyra’s slick torso, her nipples rubbing against the oiled skin. The room filled with the wet, rhythmic sound of their grinding pussies and their mingled gasps. "*Zis... zis ees what Fifi dreamed of,*" Fifi panted, her eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy, her hips pistoning. "*Not chasing... holding. Feeling you... contre moi...*" Elmyra arched beneath her, her cries becoming sharp, desperate keens. "*Fifi! I'm... oh God!*" Fifi felt the telltale clenching against her own core, the frantic pulse of Elmyra’s body. "*Oui!*"

Fifi drove herself down harder, faster. Their slick folds slapped together with sharp, wet *smacks*, echoing off the tiled walls. Each thrust sent Elmyra’s enormous breasts bouncing violently upwards. They crashed down onto the top of Fifi’s head with cartoonish *BOING-BOING-BOING* sounds, the heavy, soft weight momentarily muffling Fifi’s gasps before rebounding skyward again. "*Mon Dieu, your... your *boules*!*" Fifi cried out, momentarily distracted by the rhythmic impacts against her skull, the sheer absurdity mixing with blinding pleasure. "*Zey are... BOING!... trying to... BOING!... knock Fifi... BOING!... senseless!*" Elmyra could only moan incoherently, her hands tangled in Fifi’s fur, her hips bucking wildly to meet every frantic thrust.

The friction built to an unbearable peak. Fifi felt her own climax coiling tight in her belly, a supernova threatening to erupt. "*Elmyra!*" she screamed, her voice raw. "*NOW!*" Elmyra’s eyes snapped open, wide and wild. "*FIFI!*" she shrieked back, her voice cracking. Their bodies locked together in a final, shuddering thrust. Simultaneous, blinding waves of pleasure tore through them. Fifi threw her head back, a guttural roar ripping from her throat as her body convulsed. Elmyra’s back arched impossibly off the table, her scream piercing the air. Clear, shimmering ink – thick and viscous like liquid moonlight – erupted from both of them. Fifi’s jet arced high, splattering against Elmyra’s heaving stomach and bouncing breasts with wet *splats*. Elmyra’s own torrent sprayed upwards, coating Fifi’s chin, neck, and chest fur in glistening streaks. The scent, sharp and musky and utterly primal, filled the steam-filled room.

They collapsed together onto the slick table, a tangled heap of fur, skin, and cooling ink. Elmyra’s breasts settled heavily against Fifi’s cheek. Fifi’s tail lay limp, draped over Elmyra’s thigh. Their breaths came in ragged gasps, the only sound besides the faint *drip... drip...* of ink falling onto the floor. Fifi nuzzled weakly into the soft valley between Elmyra’s breasts, inhaling the mingled scents of sweat, lavender oil, musk, and their own release. "*Fifi...*" Elmyra murmured, her voice thick and sated, one hand lazily stroking the damp purple fur between Fifi’s ears. "*Mmm,*" Fifi sighed, her cartoon heart still visibly pounding beneath her fur. "*Zat... zat was not... chasing.*" She managed a weak, utterly blissful smile against Elmyra’s skin. "*Zat was... catching.*"
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The Love of Ladies Behind Locked Doors.