Double Curl Pug Tail Novels & Stories

Curling a hand firmly into her hair, I tug her head back, eliciting a throaty gasp that drives me wild with need. She's wearing a thick, form-fitting cable-knit dress the shade of a desert rose. It's lovely, but what's beneath is lovelier. With the fingers of my other hand, I hook her dress up until it shows her creamy hips. Her panties are dark from her juices. "I need to taste you." Dropping to my knees, I inhale the sweet scent of her pussy. "You make me do insane things, ptichka." "Do I?" she whimpers.

I wiggled under him, rubbing myself against his muscled stomach, trying to relieve the flames burning in me. He purred loudly before he moved his hand lower and molded me over my clit. Unlike Al's cautious touching, he gripped me hard before he let go only to rub again and again. My breath thickened as I ground myself against his hand, making up for the frustration from being teased only on the outside. "Wet." Cerberus purred as he tried to wiggle his fingers inside my panties. I held my breath as I anticipated the warmth to reach me where it was too itchy to bear.

I frown a little when I feel something; I follow it with my hand to the back edge of the towel and jump again at the feel of pleasure that shoots through me as I touch what seems to be a tail. Iris purrs in my head as she giggles again. Getting myself back under control, I reach behind me and moan as I slide my hand over and along the thin tail-like thing and pull it around in front of me. I can't stop the moan that leaves my lips as I trace my fingers along the edges of what looks to be an arrowhead on the end. I then lift my eyes to the mirror once more than I say, "Iris? We have a tail?"

Stars exploded across my vision. Silas — the man whose walking pace seemed mathematically calibrated — actually had a tail? With shaking hands, I posted my very first question on Mischief & Mayhem: "Saw someone with a black heart-shaped tail. AR filter or actual monster?" Within a minute, a user with a DemonHunter_Official avatar replied: "Filter my ass! That's an incubus bloodline awakening. Judging by the curvature of that tail — RUN. This one's clearly in heat. Stay any longer and he'll drain you dry!"

The smell of cigarettes, cold ashes and musty clothes had already eaten into the mortar. But all that faded as soon as the eyes fell on the large cage behind the door, out of which small, insane eyes stared out as if they wanted to hypnotize me. They belonged to a lizard-like body. The head with the little button eyes was just as scaly as the legs. The rest of the body is covered with elongated fur in beige. The neck seemed too long for the body. Although it was barely larger than a rat, it had the appearance of a small fur-covered dragon. Lacerta proles. There's this guy who keeps a pillicula as a pet.

Curling into myself on the cold floor hugging my knees tight, I buried my head in my knees. “Should I give up?” I questioned myself. “Is this a dream or a magical land?” My eyes lifted and my pupils were growing big, through the massive window I saw it, a tiny pup with a white fur against the glass, dangling helplessly by a rope around its stomach. I saw a small pup with white fur dangling across the huge window outside my window. “Is that a fairy? My gaze sharpened and instantly panicked. “No….no,no,no!” Panic chewed me. I pounded against the glass, but the glass held firm.

Somehow, Lucian had either changed his personality overnight or Joanne had pressured him, because he actually started apologizing to me. He sent messages to me every single day without fail. [Lucian: The fat orange cartoon cat is really cute, but I still think our three little furballs at home are cuter. Should we get another cat to keep them company?] [Lucian: That Eastorian place is amazing. I heard the ingredients are flown in fresh from Boreas every day. We should go try it.]

“You’re helping yourself straight into a relationship, my dude.” I opened my mouth to reply, but a sudden scrabbling sound pulled my attention to the other bed—specifically to little Pesto, the gray tiger-striped chaos gremlin, rolling precariously close to the edge. “Shit—” I lunged across the space just in time to catch him mid-tumble, the tiny, squirming ball of fur wriggling in my hand like he had zero concept of consequences. Pesto let out an indignant squeak as I set him back into the nest beside his siblings. Spitfire shot me an approving glance—shockingly not one of pure disdain—and resumed grooming Nova’s head like the queen she was.

My life, it seemed, was now guided by this small creature’s whims. It felt surreal. I recalled that moment when Clay had texted our family group chat, announcing Tinkerbell’s long-awaited litter—eight healthy, squirming puppies of pure joy. My heart had raced as I demanded photos without delay, and among the sea of tiny furballs, Rufio stood out: belly-up, with oversized paws that seemed to bounce off the ground, and a little white tuft on his head resembling a mischievous mohawk. I called dibs on him, and I did so loudly. I wasn’t joking—not even a little bit.