Stowaway - Clean + Story

Story:

Foxes are often mischievous creatures, as a fox herself, Harlow delighted in her fair share of mischief, promiscuity, and thievery. The cove where many pirates came to avoid justice was where Harlow called home. Although the child of a pirate, she despised them. The fox wasted no time leaving her crew when she could. Money must come from somewhere, however. Even pirates, as it seems, must pay rent.

Harlow was not afraid to show her body. Her garbs oftentimes consisted of little more than thin fabrics that barely hid her most intimate areas. Small, yet soft and supple breasts, complemented by firm, erect nipples that protruded beyond the lax confines of her top. Not far below such captivating mounds was another, equally soft, wet, and always welcoming…

Harlow was a thief, through and through. Her routine was simple and well-versed, ships coming in to dock always had silver from recent plunders. All she had to do was sneak aboard, take as much as she could and leave, for a fox, an easy task. In times where ships were absent, she spent time fulfilling the carnal desires of others.

The vixen did not see her future here, however. She writhed at the idea of spending yet another year in the rum-soaked, filthy conditions of this detestable cove. She saved what silver she could, both from thievery, and clients…

“Such a good slut.” said a wolf as he grabbed the vixen’s head, burying his length into her as he came. Seed shot into her throat and out her nose. Harlow did not mind a rough client, she was a masochist who delighted in her own punishment.

As any fertile body will, Harlow went into heat regularly, as such, she would only pleasure her clients orally. The last thing she needed to be weighed down by was pups. Many of her sexual encounters were spent resisting the commands of her body. The desire to sink the throbbing lengths into herself was unbearable. Her mound did not take such criminal negligence kindly, her clitoris was swollen to the point of pain, and her vulva spilled a torrent of fluids onto the ground below.

Her client pulled himself from her throat, tossing her a silver piece. Harlow then tended to her throbbing lips as she savored the familiar, salty taste and scent. She rubbed her fingers across her swollen clitoris. “It’s not enough…” she cursed. Her mound desired to be bred, mere fingers could not fill its desires.

As she stewed in a thought of self pity, a ship caught her eye. Tattered sails and battered sailors moored to the rickety dock. Such damage was a sign of battle, of fresh plunder… The fox quickly picked herself up and closed towards the ship, leaving a trail of fluids behind.

“Secure the cargo, Mr. Nutting!” Yelled what Harlow assumed to be the captain.

“Aye captain!” Yelled a sailor in response.

While moving the many chests into the hold, a sailor dropped one onto the deck. Silver coins burst from the strongbox. Harlow saw dozens of those chests. This was the ship, she could not carry all the silver, but even one chests worth of silver would get her one step closer to leaving the cove for good.

Adrenaline rushed through the vixen’s body, fantasies of wine, houses, and expensive silks filled her mind. Unfortunately, her heat would not let her be with those thoughts in peace for very long… Thoughts of affluence were quickly replaced by thoughts of men, of their bodies rubbing against hers… their musk… Harlow quickly snuffed those thoughts out, “Damned heat…” she snarled. She repeated a single phrase over and over…

Stay focused.

She waited by the ship until nightfall. “Now.” she whispered. She had no time to waste, any mistake could spell disaster. Flowing swiftly like water through a stream, she maneuvered past patrolling sailors, depositing herself with a grace only a fox could have directly into the lower decks. She snatched a lit lantern before plunging into the abyssal hold.

Stay Focused..

She moved around the cramped hold passing crates of tea, “it mustn't all be tea.” dread filled her mind. Then, in one clearing, was a wall of locked chests stacked atop one another. The adrenaline in her body caused her to physically shake, it further aroused her swollen nethers, Harlow felt herself clench and contract, her juices ran down her legs.

...Stay… Focused!

She spied the one chest that had been dropped, its lock broken, she stuffed handfuls of silver into her knapsack. Dreams of life outside of squalor and piracy were just in reach… with the chest empty, she sprinted through the darkness, reaching the stairwell only to see a massive silhouette outlined by the moonlight above. Frozen in terror, Harlow fell back onto her rear, exposing her sopping nethers.

The massive crocodile spoke amusedly. “Well, well, well, look what we have here…”

He approached Harlow, dragging her to her feet before slamming her against the side of the hull. He noticed the knapsack of silver at Harlow’s side, a wide grin stretched across his scaled face. “Cap’n’s not gonna like you…”

The vixen struggled to even form a sentence, she stumbled and stuttered. “No! Not the captain! You don’t have to take me to him..! you can- I’ll- let you…” Harlow tried to think of a response, looking about, when the crocodile’s bulge caught her eye. Fear turned into intense arousal… The reptile grew impatient.

“Speak, wench!” He commanded.

Harlow melted as she spoke. “...Breed me…”

Harlow pawed at the reptile’s growing bulge as she spoke. He nuzzled to her neck, coaxing a moan from the vixen, he smelled her musk, he knew she was in heat. She couldn’t resist her instincts any longer, she didn’t even care about the silver anymore. All she wanted was to be bred.

“I suppose we could work something out…” The reptile dragged Harlow along. He positioned a crate against one of the masts. He then grabbed a length of rope, lunging at the vixen he threw her onto the crate. Tearing off what little garments she wore, the reptile folded her like a piece of paper, her legs behind her head, arms bound underneath herself, thus forcing an incredibly uncomfortable position. He wasn’t done… He wrapped the last length of rope around Harlow's neck and ankles, firmly affixing the thief against the mast.

Harlow lay annoyed, “What a humiliating position.” She had hoped this exchange would be a little more dignified. Her attention was quickly diverted to a sight of far more concern, the reptile grabbed a whip from his belt. Harlow immediately recognized this man to be the ship’s Quartermaster. A chill ran up her spine, the fear she felt only fueled her lust.

He took a moment to grab a bottle of rum, taking a long drink before speaking. “You won’t get away that easily, thievery is 40 lashes. Besides… I figure it’ll be fun to make you beg for this cock.” Clearly, the Quartermaster took a sadistic delight in his work.

Harlow spoke past the rope that choked her. “Please give me your cock, master!”

“Only after your punishment.” He readied the multi-tailed whip, running it between the fox’s supple lips, a string of juices stuck to the whip as he pulled it away.

“Yes, master…” She whined as he lifted the whip.

The lashings began. Harlow felt the first of many strikes to come, a sharp, piercing, sting. “YELP!” She squealed.

The Quartermaster made sure to draw out her punishment, toying with the vixen. Between strikes he would rub the tails of the whip across her stinging lips, or act as though he were about to bring the whip down upon her, only to purposely miss. Harlow could only guess what strikes would actually connect. He didn’t even care to count the lashes, a truly sadistic game. After what felt like hours, the Quartermaster ceased his barrage. It seemed Harlow’s punishment was finally over.

The vixen lay frustrated and out of breath, begging the Quartermaster, “Please fuck me! I can’t bear it any longer!” The crocodile smirked as he began unlacing his trousers, revealing a long, thick, stunning member. Teasing the desperate vixen, he rubbed himself atop her labia, his tip poked at her wet and welcoming hole. “Ahhh…” the fox moaned softly.

Without warning, the reptile shoved his massive length deep into the screaming vixen. He stretched her crevice beyond its limits. Harlow was consumed by a mixture of pain and overwhelming pleasure. Like ramming a shot into a cannon, the Quartermaster thrust in and out with tremendous force. The vixen’s juices soaked into the crate below.

The reptile’s pace quickened as he came closer to climax. The tip of his length kissed Harlow’s cervix with each thrust, coaxing small and quiet moans from her. He took one last drink of rum before one final thrust that buried himself in her womb. His tip passed effortlessly through her cervix.

A torrent began to fill the vixen’s belly, scorching seed that she swore would cook her insides. The Quartermaster drooled over Harlow’s now broken womb and body. He extricated himself from her tightly-gripping passage, proceeding to stroke himself over the vixen, spurting more hot seed that stung her swollen vulva. Contrary to the reptile, Harlow would not be gifted the relief of any orgasm whatsoever.

“Hahh… Hahh… Hahh. Thanks sweetheart, I needed that.” The Quartermaster gave a drunken smile as he put his trousers back on. He began walking toward the moonlight stairwell.

Harlow sat with a vacant, pleasured stare. Lucidity flooded her body, her eyes widened as she processed what was happening. “W-wait! Your supposed to untie-”

The Quartermaster cut her off, “Don’t worry, slut…” He stumbled, “I’ll get you in the morning… Heh heh heh heh.” He disappeared to the upper decks taking the lantern with him, leaving Harlow in the darkness.

“W-ah-wait… fuck…” Her eyes became heavy, “I… gotta… get these ropes…” Just before Harlow fell into a deep sleep, she remembered why she was there in the first place. She looked to her left, with just enough light to see that her knapsack was still there, and the silver within. Everything went dark.

…

Harlow came to, dazed and confused, she didn’t remember where she was. Slowly, her sensation returned, everything ached, she looked down at her semen-soaked vulva. The very air passing over her sore mound made her flinch. Noticing the moonlight, she realized it was still night, she still had time. Thrashing at her binds, Harlow freed her hands, then reaching behind her head, she untied the rope around her neck.

Successfully freeing herself, Harlow grabbed the knapsack and dashed to the stairwell, she stumbled as she climbed, hours in such a position made her legs weak. She breathed a sigh of relief to be greeted with the night sky. Jumping from the deck, she sprinted to her small cottage. Respite. She took a moment to open her knapsack, and view her score.

The vixen’s face contorted in shock, “What..? how..? …NO!” She stared into the knapsack, seeing clear through, the sight of her feet. The sack must have ripped as she made a mad dash. All that work and trouble, and at no profit, she sat against the wall in disbelief.

As she stewed, Harlow’s attention turned to her loins. That reptile, he filled her belly with his seed. “Surely nothing to worry about… He’s a crocodile, I’m a fox.” She thought to herself. As months passed by, however, any doubts she had were firmly extinguished by her steadily growing belly…