Fur knows how to surprise. It can let you alone for a while and then come at you with an overwhelming blend of serene and stormy desire. Sometimes it comes on the wind and caresses you like a cool breeze and a slow seductive orgasm. Sometimes it comes blood red, tooth and claw, raping the very life from your body. You never quite know till it happens, what the fur will do to you. But you know you can’t resist it – ever.
As a little boy I knew fur had a special friendship for me. I wanted to be close to it as long as I can remember. I felt excited when I saw pictures of women in fur coats in magazines, and even more when my mother wore her furs or her friends wore them to the house, and I would carry them and hang them up or lay them on the bed. They used to flatter me saying what a beautiful looking child I was. My mother had several furs in her wardrobe. She only wore them on special dates. Fur was about dressing up as far as I could see. But only after long preparations with makeup in front of the mirror, and with dresses and shoes from the wardrobe, did fur provide the final touch. Fur was glamour, fur was female.
When I was very young my mother used to come into my bedroom to say goodnight before she went out on special dates. One night she came in to see me straight from her room. She looked so beautiful: all made up, red lipstick, black stockings, blue silk dress and hanging over her shoulders, her favourite fur. She had told me before it was arctic fox. It was huge, full length with wide shoulders and a deep collar. She sat on the bed and lent down to kiss me goodnight. The collar brushed against my face and her perfume wafted over me.
‘Give me a hug,’ she said. I lifted my arms around her neck and drew myself towards her. The sensation was immediate and electrifying. I ran my hands and arms over the coat and squeezed. I put my head onto her breasts, loosely covered by the dress. ‘What a hug,’ she said, pulling back. And she looked at me and smiled. Then she put her arms around my neck and stroked my face, before kissing me on the lips and saying goodnight. She left the room, but I knew more was to come of it. Fur had long ago entered my bloodstream and my imagination. That night I had a fur dream. I imagined lying beside my fur goddess. She probably looked a little like my mother, but she had all the exotic qualities of another beautiful and powerful woman I knew, my aunt Louise.
It was some weeks before my mother went out again and I had almost forgotten that first night. This time she came to say goodnight after having come home from her party. It was late and I awoke from a deep sleep to find her sitting on the bed, rubbing my face with the sleeve of the fox. ‘Hello, little dreamer,’ she said. ‘Will you give me a goodnight hug?’ She put her arms around me and drew me into her breast. I was enveloped by the fur and by the perfume. I felt so excited. I struggled for breath after a while and had to pull away. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘what a hugger you are. You do like the fur, don’t you?’ ‘I like your perfume too,’ I said. ‘Do you,’ she replied? ‘Well just wait a moment.’ She went off to her room and came back holding the spray. ‘Lie back,’ she said, ‘and take off your pajamas.’ Then she sprayed all over me. The aroma was intense and I was so excited I got bolder and said, ‘Would you leave me your fur tonight?’ ‘Of course, darling,’ she said. She took off the coat and laid it over me, tucking it in so I was cacooned. She kissed me all over my face.
After she left I turned the coat over so the fur touched my skin. I put my legs through the wide sleeves and drew the fur all around me. I rubbed my body all over and I rubbed my penis for a long time. My fur goddess would not leave me that night. She knew and I knew that this was my ultimate joy. Mentally I experienced the explosive bursting of my first orgasm. It seemed never ending. It was completely internal like a female orgasm. I think I was a girl that night.
Fur was consuming me and I was increasingly a slave to its powers. I began asking my mother more and more often if I could have the fur at night. Sometimes she brought the arctic fox, but on other nights she brought her long black mink wrap or her chinchilla stole or her beautiful black mink cape. Sometimes I would go to bed and find she had left me one of her furs and her perfume spray. I would spray my body and hug the fur, before falling asleep. She usually came in late and kissed me and stroked me with the fur, and if I was very tired she took it away to her wardrobe. I think she was being protective because I had an older sister who knew of my passions and liked to chide me over them.
She knew enough to know that obsessions were potential weaknesses. One day she did indeed confront me. ‘You little sissy boy,’ she mocked, ‘you like fur and girly perfume. You’re a sissy boy and I’m going to tell everyone I know.’ I retaliated as children do by threatening her with something equally ridiculous. She got furious and while her tongue lashed me I swung at her with my hand. My nail caught her lower neck and cut the skin. Blood flowed just as if she had been assaulted by a vampire. My sister recoiled in horror and, I believe, in genuine fear. Mother had to intervene.
I was sent to my room, but my sister got the real telling off. And in the cool moment of reflection I marveled at what had happened. Whatever goddess looked over me she had revealed the other side of the fur – the blood red anger of the frightened beast, the cornered little boy. Oh fur goddess, I thought, what power you have that I can see off my big sister and have the unfaltering devotion of my mother. Where are you taking me?
There followed a period of calm. I was growing up and getting preoccupied by changes to my body. I thought less and less about fur. I had begun to think instead about women’s clothes in general. I used to sneak into my sister’s room and try on bras, panties, stockings and suspenders. I loved the feel of the stockings rubbing together as I walked up and down her room and the sense of power that came from wearing high heels. My sister had a wig and lots of make up. When the house was empty, I tried them all. I think I could make myself into a pretty fine girl and I spent time trying to be a sexy girl in front of the mirror, copying the poses of actresses and models.
Then I discovered a magazine in a shop with pictures of shemales. I glanced at the pages and was overwhelmed with desire for these beautiful men with long hair, make up and breasts – or these gorgeous girls with beautiful penises. I tried to work out which was preferable. I know I wanted them to be ultra feminine, ultra beautiful. I think my fur goddess thought I had forgotten her, but as ever, it was only temporary. One day Mother told me she had to go away to look after my grandmother who had become ill. She had asked some relatives if I could stay with them for a few days. ‘Who would you like to stay with?’ she asked. Both aunt Joyce and aunt Louise have said you can stay with them.
I remember the question hit me like a thunderbolt. My mouth went dry and, with images of fur racing through my thoughts, I said…’aunt Louise.’ ‘Why,’ said my mother, ‘when Joyce has a son of your age?’ ‘Yes, but aunt Louise has a daughter and I don’t know how to get on with girls. I think I should grow up some.’ ‘Okay, I’ll fix it,’ she said. And she did. Three days later I caught a train to London and arrived at the home of the lady of my dreams.
This is what I knew of my aunt. She had visited our house a few times. She was incredibly attractive, small, petite and she often wore a fur coat. I knew of two she had worn to our house – a three-quarter length red fox and a full-length sable. My mother had said this was the most exquisite and expensive coat she had ever seen. She had red painted nails and wore very high heels. Louise was divorcing her husband, but living with a daughter, a little older than me, who was very self-confident, almost arrogant. I was quite in awe of her.
The first night looked like being a disaster. Aunt Louise was going out and leaving me alone with the scary Miranda. I noticed Louise leaving, wearing her red fox coat. As soon as the door closed Miranda began to taunt me. ‘Young Terry,’ she said, ‘do you know what a girl’s wardrobe should look like? Have you a clue what good fashion is? Now you have arrived in London, let me teach you. Follow me.’ And I did. Miranda then led me not to her room but her mother’s. ‘Watch and learn,’ she said.
‘I’m going to start with the furs because these are the most expensive part of the wardrobe. The first here is’…and she proceeded to take each one out in turn, to put in on and parade up and down in front of me. She could sense my interest and she began to perform quite provocatively. The coats were beautiful – fox, raccoon, coyote and the sable. Finally she pulled out of the wardrobe a sensational coat. ‘This,’ she said, ‘is white fox.’ It had broad sleeves and a wide collar that sat up and framed Miranda’s face. There was a white fox hat to match. She put on the coat and the hat. Then she stopped and bent down to the floor, pulling up a number of shoes. She chose a pair of red high-heeled patent leather shoes and put them on. Now, towering over me, she moved seductively towards me.
I must have looked aghast and she read the signs. ‘Little boy,’ she mimicked, ‘you are too young to understand. You should go to bed.’ And she put away the shoes and coats and walked off to her room, shutting the door behind her. I went to bed also but could not sleep. I sensed my fur goddess was taunting me again.
A while later I heard my door open and then close. I sensed movement and caught the perfume of aunt Louise. She sat on my bed and stroked my face. ‘Hello,’ she whispered. ‘Have you had a nice evening?’ I sensed she was worried about Miranda waking up so I whispered back: ‘It was fine.’ What more could I say? ‘Your mother has mentioned to me that you are fond of fur- are you?’ The question was so loaded I did not know what to say. How did she know? What had mother said? I stalled and stammered.
‘It’s all right you know. I love fur too. I know too that you told Miranda you thought I was very beautiful. That is true, isn’t it?’ It was true. Then she slipped off the red fox, revealing a dark mink slip top that hugged her body tightly, but covered her only to the waist. She put the fox around my shoulders and climbed into the bed beside me. ‘Hold me,’ she said, almost emulating my mother’s voice, and pressing the mink against my skin. ‘Hold me and feel the fur. And then she slipped her hand onto my already stiff penis. ‘Oh,’ she whispered, ‘how lovely.’ She then took the fox and wrapped it around my throbbing penis.
I lay back moaning as she rubbed vigorously and then as I was about to come she buried her mouth over my tingling penis, covered her head with the fur, and took all the semen in her mouth. When I climaxed I felt my body vibrate all over and I gripped the fox fur in my hands. This was definitely a male orgasm, and I was just trying to make sense of a thousand new sensations when I felt aunt Louise take my hand and place it between her legs, where it was warm and moist. Her breathing was very fast.
I decided I was on a rollercoaster and I just had to let go of my inhibitions. She demanded I rub the small spot she put my fingers on and I did. She moaned a little, then she told me to push my fingers into her fanny, as she called it. I had a small hand and when she lay back and opened her legs wide my whole hand slid up this juicy passage. I pushed and pulled my hand up and down with great speed, as she demanded more, more. Finally she arched her back and let out a loud moan and her whole body shuddered from tip to toe. As she lay quietly beside me, still wearing the mink top, I ran the fox fur over her face and neck and arms, watching the woman I had adored for so long. I kissed the mink top again and again, feeling the silky smoothness. Her breathing calmed.
She suddenly took hold of my hand and kissed it passionately. Then she let go. ‘You are a dream,’ she said. She kissed me on the lips and got up. ‘Terry,’ she said. ‘No-one must know about this. You understand, don’t you.’ I nodded and smiled. Collecting all her things together, she left the room and closed the door. I meditated for a moment on what had happened and quickly fell asleep. I think my fur goddess was pleased and I slept well.
For the next two days the world went by as if nothing had happened. Aunt Louise and Miranda took me around London’s sights. We ate in posh restaurants and talked about films and television and books and history. There was never a suggestion from either of them that anything unusual had happened. Aunt Louise seemed preoccupied with other things. Miranda I have to say did look more beautiful each day. She was wearing her long hair up and was applying more makeup. She was looking older and was being very sophisticated in front of her mother. She even knew words like ‘psychology’ and I think she understood a lot about me.
On the second evening we were watching television when aunt Louise announced she would be away the next day. She said quite openly that she was meeting her husband to sort out the divorce. Miranda looked sad. ‘Can I come with you?’ she asked. ‘No,’ said her mother, ‘you need to take care of Terry. I will leave food and you can always ask next door for help. I shall be out of contact all day.’ Next morning I heard her leave early. I hoped she would come in and kiss me goodbye but she didn’t. I got up and decided to take a shower and wash my hair.
I was in the shower when the bathroom door opened and I realized that Miranda had just walked in. I was hidden behind the shower curtain. ‘Don’t mind me,’ she said and started washing at the basin. There was a silence and the she said: ‘Terry, you really like fur don’t you?’ Another thunderbolt hit me. What could I say? I was blushing madly. She whipped back the curtain and said: ‘Look at me Terry. You love fur don’t you? I can see you do – you’re blushing. Well, here’s the deal. I will let you play with mummy’s furs if you will be my little sister for the day. I have always wanted a little sister and you can be her – for a day. Okay?’
I must have looked unconvinced as she lifted her arm and placed a long, blood-red glossy nail on my mouth, pressing firmly. She then traced her finger over my chin, down my chest, pausing at each nipple and when she reached my belly button, she paused again. ‘Please,’ she said. I nodded and she pushed her nail into my skin, causing me to tense with pain. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I’m just so excited. By the way Mummy has a new fur. Did you know?’ I didn’t.
‘One thing,’ she said, ‘you must shave all your body hair, and I mean all, if you are to be a real sister, so I’ve left the stuff by the sink. Come to my room when you are ready. Nice body,’ she said, looking me up and down. And off she went. I did as told and shaved all my body hair. It was not such a chore as I was not very hairy and it was helping me get into the female psyche, which I enjoyed. I finished and went to Miranda’s room. True to her word the bed was covered with all the furs from her mother’s room. I noticed bras and panties, stockings and a cine camera on the table. The room smelled of musk.
Miranda looked beautiful and sophisticated, with her long red nails and moistened red mouth. She wore a red bra and matching panties and red stockings, and red mules. She was wearing the new gorgeous black mink coat with its wide hood hanging over her shoulders. It stretched to the floor. It positively glowed with life. ‘This suits me well,’ she said, stroking the fur. ‘I have other plans for you. Sit down while I prepare you.’ I did, meekly.
‘Now,’ she said. ‘I am going to start with your hair. But first I shall inspect you.’ She ran her hands all over my body checking for hair, almost stroking me, and declared herself satisfied. Miranda put little curlers in my damp hair and dried it with the blow drier. She took the curlers out and ruffled the hair to a natural, but girlish style. She applied cream to my face, rouge to my cheeks, mascara, eyeliner and lipstick, coated with gloss. It was her look, and when we both eyed ourselves in the mirror we did look quite similar. ‘You are quite a looker,’ she said. I turned and stared up at her face as if to say so are you.
Miranda insisted I wear black and I slipped into a black corset with bra, which she tied tightly at the back, black silk panties and long black stockings with elasticized tops that reached right up my legs. Then, with feverish excitement, I put on the black, lace up ankle boots with the long, spiky heels. When I stood up I felt I was truly a girl. Miranda picked the white fox off the bed and told me to put it on. Then she took my hands and began applying the long red nails. When she was done she looked at me and smiled. ‘Terry,’ she said, ‘you are now my glamorous little sister and Terry will still do as a name for you, won’t it? Now, are you ready for this? I want to film you so I have a momento of this one day. We can look at it together, as sisters, afterwards. Okay?’ She picked up the camera and, without waiting for an answer, began filming and issuing instructions like a director. I was by now into the part and a willing actress.
‘Terry, start by stroking the fur, stroke the collar, run your hands up and down the coat. Show those fabulous red nails off against the white fur. Look sexy now… Terry, squeeze the fur collar under your chin and pout, yes imagine you are kissing the camera, lovely… Moisten your lips, Terry. More, more… Now, let the fur slide over your shoulders and down your back, hold the front tight to you. Squat down low and smile coyly, but looking up at me. Look up at me and be a little shy girl, Terry… Now, I want you to look very sexy. Stand up tall and put the coat over your shoulders but open it at the front. Put your legs apart and your hand down the inside the panties and put the other on your hip. Now pose, Terry, look sexy – look down at me. Move your hand up and down inside the panties, yes… Now, run your tongue over your lips. Pout, Terry, pout. Lick your fingers, Terry, lick them lovingly… And stroke the fur, Terry, stroke that big, soft, sumptuous collar. Don’t stop stroking the fur…Terry, look at me and don’t be shy. Tell me you love fur more than anything. Tell me, tell the world. Say it!’ And I did…’Terry, look at me and say Miranda, you are my big sister and I do what you tell me. Say it Terry!’ And I did….and I felt the tensions building inside.
‘Okay Terry, turn round a few times and let’s see you and the coat. Let’s try it with the matching hat as well. Wow, you look great. You look amazing. Look how the black underwear sets off the coat. Look how the hat sets off your makeup. Caress the fur again, Terry, love it. Now lift the coat to your waist and bend over, turn your back to the camera. That’s it, Terry, what a shot… Look back at me over your shoulder and now between your legs, bend right over, that’s it’…Then she stretched forward and ran her nails over both my cheeks. It hurt. ‘I want some more colour in the shot,’ she said mockingly. I imagined long red gashes all over my bum…’Now Terry, I want you to sit on the bed facing me and I want you to lift your legs up high with those spikes pointing to the sky. Can you do that? I want you to show off your secret destination, your arse, Terry…I am going to pull back the panties like this to show your pretty little hole, and just to please you, I am going to insert my little fingernail and tickle you.’ And she did and the feeling was electrifying. I moaned, ‘Oh Miranda.’ She smiled and went on filming, while I held my legs in the air and lay with my back into the fur on the bed.
It had all happened so quickly, but I was ready to burst. Miranda gave instructions. ‘Okay, Terry, now you can really perform. Let’s take off the corset and panties… Lie in the furs, Terry, and play with yourself. Do it for me, Terry. It’s your reward for being a lovely, sexy, little sister. Show me the real you, Terry, the one only you know. I want to see the little lady boy perform.
I fell on to the bed and just wallowed and writhed in the furs. I bathed in them. I drowned in them. Then I turned on my back. Looking into the camera and at Miranda I began masturbating. Miranda was shouting faster, faster. I was squirming and screaming with pleasure. The furs seem to envelop me as I felt the release of the muscles and burst my load all over my chest and up to my neck. The juices flowed and flowed and I seemed to orgasm inside for ages. I thought of my first ‘female’ orgasm, of mother, of Louise… and then of Miranda, whose voice brought me back from the pleasure dome to the bedroom.
Miranda had obviously become impatient. ‘Ok, little sister,’ she said, ‘let’s pause. If you tidy up here and put all the coats away I will go and make us some food. Terry, check you have not left any mess on the coats won’t you. That would be a disaster. But, before you move, let me help clean you up.’ She picked up a glass and ran it over my skin gathering up all my semen. ‘That’s better,’ she said. She took the camera and glass downstairs. She looked perfectly cool and fresh as if nothing had excited her too much. She even kept the mink on as she left for the kitchen.
I took off the shoes and stockings and cleaned off the lipstick, but decided to leave the rest of the makeup on. I took a quick shower. I tidied up the bed and carried the furs one by one back to aunt Louise’s wardrobe. I could remember the order to place them in from that first evening with Miranda. I checked each one in turn for any blemish, stroking every inch, occasionally pausing to rub the fur against my cheek, or my chest, as I was quite naked. I wanted them to be perfect. I wanted them to love me as much as I loved them. When they were all back on their hangers, I suddenly fell to my knees and put my arms around them all, drawing them towards me. I felt like praying. Thank you fur goddess, I whispered, thank you. I worship you, remember. I started weeping, tears pouring down my cheeks. It was joy and exhaustion.
I wiped away the tears, dressed and went to join Miranda in the kitchen. But if I thought the traumas and the games were at an end I was quite mistaken. Both Miranda and my fur goddess were going to surprise me.
We ate our meal in silence, both preoccupied with our thoughts. Miranda was still dressed in the same outfit and the new mink continued to glisten with life. She let it fall open as she ate and I was able to glance shyly at her body. I kept wondering how it was I felt the need, even the obligation, to perform with Miranda. Did I really like her? If I thought my sister was a danger, well Miranda had dynamite on that cassette. Could I trust her? Where did her powers come from and why did she play with me so cruelly? I was confused.
I saw Miranda had opened a bottle of wine – a burgundy she told me – and was drinking glass after glass. I had hardly ever drunk wine but I enjoyed this and we were soon into a second bottle. Then the phone rang. It was aunt Louise. Miranda disappeared into the next room to talk. I heard her voice rise and then shouting and cursing and she slammed the phone down when she finished. She stormed into the kitchen, eyes alight with fury. ‘Damn you!’ she stormed. ‘If it wasn’t for you I would be at the reunion of my mother and father. As it is I’m stuck here with you for the night. They aren’t coming back till tomorrow. Do you realise what you are costing me? Well enjoy watching yourself on film’ – and she flung the cassette at me – ‘I ‘m off to my room.’ She picked up the bottle of wine and fled, looking distressed. I heard her in the bathroom and then the bedroom door slammed.
I felt awful and rejected. I decided that my time was up. I phoned my mother to find she had returned home. I explained the situation but she suggested I wait till the next day – to keep Miranda company. As if, mother dear! ‘Okay,’ I said, not appreciating what a decision it would prove to be. I then sat down and watched the tape on the TV monitor. I was stunned by the quality of Miranda’s filming and equally worried about who might see it. This was not prime time viewing. I did not love myself that much, I was not narcissistic, but I did wonder whom I was watching. The make up and movement was convincingly that of a girl. I began to imagine how it could be better if we repeated it. What else could we do? My thoughts ran over new outfits: stockings with seams and impossibly high-heeled boots, of black fur thongs and fur bras and of all the other furs I had not worn, especially the sable. I imagined different hairstyles and hair colour, nails long and painted, and I imagined jewelry: long necklaces and heavy bracelets and pierced nipples. And I thought of Miranda coming into the film and rubbing my erect penis with her golden fur boa she had worn to a restaurant on a previous day. I imagined her tying it around my penis and sucking my tip. I imagined me furring and fucking her and I suddenly realized that more than anything I wanted to lose my virginity with Miranda. But I doubted she had the same thoughts.
I was lounging on the sofa, watching the tape through for a second time and feeling quite excited with even more thoughts when Miranda came down. She knelt beside me and looking apologetic. She had washed and brushed her hair so it now hung down to her shoulders, gleaming. She had changed her makeup. Her lips were purple and her eye shadow had a lilac sheen. With strong black lines around her eyes she looked quite exotic and even a little gothic. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I did not mean all that stuff. But I’m so angry. With you, with Mummy, with Daddy. I mean, they just take me for granted. Anyway, we have not finished our sisterly union. Please go upstairs and choose a fur, just one. Take your time. I’ll call when I’m ready.’ She stood up and drew my head into her crutch, rubbing my face with the mink. ‘Go on now.’
I set off upstairs. Miranda followed a few minutes later and went to her room. I sat looking into aunt Louise’s wardrobe wondering which coat to choose. I stroked them all adoringly. A voice in my head said choose the sable, but I finally picked the silver fox, full length, sumptuously feminine, serenely soft. The silver seemed to catch the light and made the coat shine like a diamond. I carried it to Miranda’s room and called out. ‘Come in,’ she replied. As I entered, Miranda, who was behind the door, slammed it shut and stared hard at me. She looked stunning, but her anger had reignited from somewhere, perhaps from the wine. ‘Where have you been. I’ve been calling.’ I stared in absolute awe. ‘You are so gorgeous when you are angry,’ I said. She seemed quite unimpressed by that remark.
In addition to the new make up and hairstyle, she had a leather studded collar tied tightly round her neck. Beneath the black mink I could discern no lingerie, and she appeared so much taller due to the spiked-heeled, ankle-high boots she was now wearing. Around the tops of the boots she had attached a ring of fur, which looked like dyed mink, a purple almost matching her lips. Beneath the wide sleeves of the coat she wore long black silk gloves, and she had added little fur bracelets in the same purple. It was overpowering. I wanted her so badly. ‘Ah, I see you chose the fox. How revealing. Take off your clothes. And sit by the dressing table.’ ‘Miranda, what are we going to do?’ I asked innocently. ‘I am taking you on a journey, for the sake of my sanity, and indulging your fantasies at the same time. Just do as I ask’
She looked me over and decided to touch up the make up. ‘ A little refreshing here and there, just to bring out the beauty.’ Then she said, ‘Stand up and face the mirror.’ I was quite naked. She placed the fox fur up on the dressing table in front of me. ‘Bend over and bury your face in the fur.’ I did and then she tied the arms of the coat around my neck and pulled the rest of the coat over my head and back. She forced my legs apart. I sensed only darkness and the utterly sensuous feel of the fox fur. She furred my back and buttocks ever so lightly. I began to go into a haze of delight. I wanted to anticipate what she would do. But I did not. I did not imagine her dipping her finger in the vaseline jar and I was slow to understand she had placed a hand on my neck, forcing my head down. I was completely unprepared when she rammed a greasy, gloved finger up my arse and the pain seared through my body. I yelled, eyes watering. I gasped for air, but she kept my head forced inside the fur. I protested, but she was unmoved. ‘This is like a rape, Terry. I think as a girl you should have some idea how it feels. I’m sorry for the pain but I’m so angry, little sister.’
I was thinking about making a run for the door when she grabbed my testicles and squeezed. I yelled again. Then while she toyed her finger in my arse, she began to rub my penis up and down, causing me to groan with pleasure and pain. She moved both hands in the same gentle rhythm and my knees began to weaken. I started to moan with joy and let my head rest inside the cocoon of fur. I stopped struggling. But Miranda was not indulging me that much.
She let go quite suddenly and I collapsed to the floor. She unraveled the fur and I lay naked. She played with my testicles using the pointed toe of the boot and stuck the pointed heel into my aching penis. I was trying to work out her mood and how I should react. I was frightened by her like this, but excited. ‘Get up,’ she said. ‘Here, put this on.’ She turned the fox inside out so I felt the luxurious softness against my skin. I melted. ‘Terry, go lie on the bed, face up. Wrap the fur around you.’ Miranda came over with two glasses, the one had wine, but to my surprise the other contained my semen that she had scooped up earlier. She sat on my bare chest, pushing the fox fur to the sides and spreading the wide base of her mink all over my body, like a tent. Terry, this is the initiation into sisterhood. We are going to exchange blood and body fluid. The wine is symbolic of blood, but we could exchange the real thing…’ and she produced a small, sharp knife from her coat pocket. ‘Blood to blood, Terry. What do you think?’
I was in new territory. This all seemed beyond me. I had vague knowledge of initiation rights, but my mind was too fuzzy. Miranda put her gloved hand over my mouth. I wanted to speak, to get reassurance. ‘Ssh! Listen. Terry, you chose the silver fox – a poor choice. It’s a lovely fur, of course, but it’s weaker than the mink. You see when a man chooses a fur, he looks only at the colour, the softness, the sensuality. It’s true isn’t it? But a woman looks for the social effect, the sense of purpose, the power. The mink, the black mink, is the devil of all furs. The animal itself is a voracious, lethal carnivore. The mink is nocturnal, untamable. I am imbued with that spirit when I wear the coat. You might have chosen the sable, an equally aggressive beast, and a match for the mink, but you chose the fox. The fox is cunning and wicked but it ‘s tamable, it’s loveable, just as you are now. Not so the mink. I win on every count you see and that’s why you are so confused. The mink outwits and out fights the fox, and black consumes silver. Stop resisting, Terry, it’s no use. You chose a feminine fur and I have a masculine fur.
Oh fur goddess, I thought. Why am I so stupid? How have you led me to this? When do I learn these things? And then I remembered the voice urging me to choose the sable.
Miranda sat astride me and began to rock up and down and slide herself over my chest. I could feel the juices flow and she took off her gloves and put both hands in to her wet pussy. She played with herself for a while and then produced a set glistening fingers. ‘Lick them,’ she said. ‘Lick each one in turn and enjoy. And she pushed one hand and then the other into my mouth, The scent was so strong, musky. My tongue flicked over the fingers and I felt the energy. Then she produced the cup of semen and said drink. I kept my mouth shut until she grabbed my penis and I yelled. She poured the cold liquid into my gaping mouth, followed by some wine. I swallowed. It was actually invigorating and I smiled. Miranda looked stern. ‘Now it’s my turn. We are swapping. Get up.’ To my relief, she left the knife in her pocket.
She slipped off the mink and lay it in the bed. ‘Put it on.’ She wrapped the fox around her and fell on the bed, opening the front up to reveal her breasts and stomach. ‘Come sit astride me and pleasure me. Rub your fingers over my clit and up my cunt. When they are wet give them to me to lick, just as I did for you.’ I did. She licked my fingers, holding my hand with one of hers. The other ran up and down my fur covered back. ‘Now your semen in that glass, Terry, and then the wine in the other.’ She opened her mouth and closed her eyes as I poured out both glasses of all their contents. Before swallowing she pulled me down and kissed me long and hard. It was a searing kiss; she forced her tongue all round my mouth and the juices flowed between us till she actually licked out my mouth and swallowed. We clung together through the fur until she paused for breath. ‘Terry, enough for now. I have had too much wine. Please take the furs away and leave me. Put them carefully back. Goodnight sister.’ Despite all the pain and all the panic, I found myself kissing her forehead and wishing her sweet dreams. I so loved her.
I left with the furs, still confused. I put the fox back, stroking its fur till I was sure it was unblemished and it hung nicely. Then I stroked the mink. Had I tamed it? Would it be a friend? I held it to my naked chest for a long while before hanging it up. I wanted to keep hold of it, but I closed the door. I did not give a prayer of thanks to my goddess. I sensed she was not through with me yet. I went to bed but could not sleep. I thought I heard Miranda call out but it might have been the night’s high wind tormenting me.
Stormy nights are not easily forgotten and this one was to be no exception. As a young boy I could remember running into mother’s room when the thunder broke and cuddling up beside her, enjoying the security of the moment and the feel of her silky nightdress. It was not the fear that guided me but excitement. This night, as the rain spattered against the glass and the thunder rumbled in the distance, my longing for excitement increased. It was my last night in the house and I felt a strong urge to go to aunt Louise’s room and feel the electricity of the night. I got up and crept along the corridor. Her room was lit by the moon and a nearby street lamp. I went in and closed the door, sealing myself in, and opened the wardrobe. If I felt a presence at all I was sure it was my fur goddess. I was certain the furs had drawn me there as if they too were energised by the wicked weather.
I ran my hands over the fur coats, falling silently in a row on their respective hangers, and picked the coyote. I lifted it out and held it to the light. I had not till then appreciated what a beautiful coat it was. I had rather ignored it. It was soft and silky to touch, with a glorious range of colours from cream to gentle tan, and all shades in between. It was three quarter length and blessed with a sumptuous roll collar. It was a young, robust sort of coat. I put it on and posed before the full-length mirror on the wall. I pushed the collar up to surround my face. I ran my hands up and down over its silken strands. I felt the power surge. The sensation was so intense I sank to my knees and sighed with pleasure.
As I knelt in the stillness of the room the noise of the storm outside abated and my mind raced out of control. I imagined aunt Louise returning to find me, in her room, naked in her coyote fur. I imagined her smiling at me, quite happy to have found me in such a position. Stroking my face, recognising a kindred spirit, she starts getting undressed, taking off all her clothes – except her red high heels – and flinging them nonchalantly on the bed, item by item. Then, bending forwards in front of the mirror on her dresser, arms resting on the glass top, I imagine her beckoning to me. I respond by crawling to her, furring her body with the coyote. I begin licking the backs of her legs from the tip of the heels of her shoes, up past the slim ankles, the back of the knees and up to the soft, moist regions at the top of her slender thighs. I cover both legs, slowly, with long gentle licks, then burying my head between her thighs and spreading her legs apart, I begin to kiss and lick and suck her until she begs me to enter her. I do, from behind; first one passage and then the next. Each one causing me to gasp with pleasure and aunt Louise to respond with sighs of joy. I move my hips slowly back and forth, rubbing my furred sleeves about her neck and face, allowing my fingers to meander through her soft, blond hair. I am in heaven. When I finally come I am clasping her body with my arms and grasping her pendulous breasts with my cupped hands. She has grasped my penis and is stroking its base with one of her nails. The coyote writhes between us. What a dream!
I came back to reality with another burst of thunder and a flash of lightning. I wished aunt Louise had really been there, but the room was very empty. I took off the coyote off and put it back on its hanger. I hardly paused for breath. I ran my hands over the other furs, trying to sense their powers. I stopped at the sable, the fabled sable, the fur my mother so admired, the fur my aunt wore so elegantly. I took it from its hanger and clasped it to my nakedness. It felt like I was floating, out of this world. It was surreal. This was the fur I had dreamed about a thousand times, the fur that matched, if not surpassed, the mink. Now I was in its presence, alone but for the light from outside. I put it over my shoulders and gazed in the mirror at its rich lustrous tan shades, sensing the wild Siberian forests it had inhabited. I turned the coat inside out and put it on, allowing the fur itself to caress every pore of my skin. I looked in the mirror just to confirm it was me inside this golden palace of fur. I fell onto the bed, rolled myself into a ball and hugged the coat to me, encasing myself from head to toe. I wanted the fur to join itself to me. I wanted to be the beautiful creature. I was transforming myself. I shuddered with excitement and expectation.
Wrapped in the fur, my fantasies began again. But instead of aunt Louise appearing it was the shemale from the magazine who came into view. She is a young oriental, stunningly beautiful, with long russet brown hair, wide eyes and pale glossy lips. Aged about seventeen, her breasts are small, as is her penis. Her name is Mai and most of her pictures show her in a hotel bedroom, pictured from all angles, but a couple have her hugging what looks like a short lynx coat. She steps out of the picture into aunt Louise’s bedroom and stands at the end of the bed. I move to her and kiss her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, her neck. Her beauty and elegance suggest only female to me. I am the boy in sable mesmerised by the girl in lynx. I open the coat so I can kiss her tiny breasts and nipples, and then cupping her balls in my hand I take her limp penis into my mouth and gently suck, using my tongue and teeth to tease life into it. I move my tongue over the head and use my fingers to play with the scrotum and to run all over her silky smooth buttocks. She has no body hair at all; everywhere is baby soft. The penis becomes firmer and she pushes my head back and kisses my lips. Her hair falls around my shoulders. The lynx fur brushes my body. She motions me to turn around. I do so, without hesitating.
I bend over the bed and lift up the sable over my back. I feel her press against me and put her hands on my shoulders. The tip of her penis touches me. The lynx brushes over my buttocks. She enters me so gently and moves her body rhymically, in and out, in and out, again and again and again. My body tingles. My mind numbs to the rhythm. She begins furring my face and neck with the collar of the sable. She runs her fingers up and down my erect penis, occasionally digging her long nails into the tight flesh. She covers it with fur and rubs vigorously with her long fingers. The lynx is mating with the sable. Eventually I can bear it no more and putting her onto her back, I push her down onto the bed. With her legs drawn high in the air, I gaze at her erection and I enter her as gently as she had me. I close my eyes and wait for the climax. It comes with a shuddering intensity, lasting for an eternity. She calls out my name. Oh yes, Mai, yes, yes.
Such is the stuff of dreams. I finally open my eyes and I realise I have come, while lying on aunt Louise’s bed, and clutching myself beneath her most expensive fur! That much is real. The fur has been the master of ceremonies all along. My fur goddess has been taunting me again. I am quite alone and a little exhausted.
I was in danger damaging both bedclothes and the sable. Luckily I did neither and I found a towel to clear up with. I put the sable back and tidied up the bed with utmost care. Despite my fantasy I was convinced aunt Louise would not be so pleased to know how I treated her furs, or used her bed. I checked everything was in order. When I was satisfied I sat on the bed with only the towel and reflected. I was confused again. What was I to make of it all? I was still that mixed up teenager. I decided to go and make some tea to calm myself down. As I was leaving the bedroom I remembered the knife that Miranda had left in the black mink. I went to the wardrobe and put my hand into the pocket and the knife must have been pointing upwards. I felt the sharp stab of pain and I winced. Taking hold of the blade I pulled the knife out and saw the blood flowing from a little gash in my palm. So the mink was not tamed after all and I was taking too much for granted. Respect, I thought. And pain too. I went to the bathroom and washed, stemming the flow of blood. I put the knife in my dressing gown pocket and left the bathroom. I heard Miranda cough. So I went past her room and I called out, ‘Would you like some tea?’ ‘Yes please, and some biscuits.’ I was so pleased. It was the middle of the night after all.
I went downstairs and made the tea. While the kettle was brewing I went to retrieve the video from the machine. I reckoned that aunt Louise and the newly returned husband would not be thrilled by seeing my performance or their daughter’s part in it. It wasn’t there. Only one person could have it. I made the tea and filled two mugs. As I went upstairs I wondered how Miranda would behave towards me and whether I was strong enough to withstand her demands. I went to knock on Miranda’s door and went in. I half expected a surprise or a trick, but Miranda was lying in bed, naked I guessed, as she had the sheet up over her shoulders. I gave her a mug of tea and a biscuit and she invited me to sit on the bed. ‘I feel better now, but what a hangover I had, and what a storm! Have you slept through it all?’ she asked. Her manner was almost shy. ‘No, not at all,’ I confessed. We drank our tea. The storm was still audible, but only in the far distance. ‘Miranda, do you have the tape?’ I asked. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Do you want it? You can have it, you know. I rescued it from downstairs. I don’t think Mummy or Daddy would appreciate it. Do you?’ I agreed and started to giggle at the thought. It set Miranda off and we both rolled on the bed in fits of laughter. It was the first time we had done that.
‘Miranda, what happened earlier today? Are we sisters? Or brother and sister? Or what?’ ‘Terry, I was drunk this afternoon and I got carried away, but I did want to get closer to you. I do like you.’ ‘Yes, but why the pain and the ritual?’ ‘Because that’s what makes it important and what turns me on. You like fur and I like ritual. Terry, you just don’t know enough.’ There was a pause. I was feeling down. Miranda was lecturing again. She continued. ‘You don’t read so you not aware. You think what we did was so far out? Well read the works of the Marquis de Sade, read all the weird happenings in those books. Read Leopold von Sacher Masoch’s Venus in Furs. Understand the relationship between fetish and pain. It’s not new, you know! Fur is a fetish, you know that much, don’t you?’ I didn’t know what to say or think. ‘Do you know why it is for you? Have you thought about it? Have you recalled your past? Your childhood? And you know, you should read Angela Carter’s Passion of the New Eve. It’s an exploration of a sex change, but it also includes a marvelous love scene with fur. You’d love that. Terry, you are so naïve!’ She stroked my face.
‘What books are you talking about? For God’s sake, slow down. Stop showing off.’ I was angry at the tone of her voice – such a know-all. ‘Ok Terry, I’ll write down all the names for you. Meanwhile, fetch the tape. It’s over there. I went to the drawer and opened it. The tape was there lying on top of the beautiful fox boa I had seen Miranda wear. ‘Put the tape on the chair and come here with the boa,’ she said. I picked out the tape and placed it on the chair. I pulled out the fox boa. It was a gorgeous honey colour, and maybe two metres long. ‘It’s a golden island fox,’ said Miranda. ‘A present from mother.’ As I pulled out the fox I saw the dyed mink cuffs Miranda has worn earlier that day. I took off my dressing gown and lay it by the bed and then I attached the mink strips around my ankles and wrists using the small velcro pads. There was one strip left which I wound twice round my penis. I looked up and said, ‘You’re looking at a nocturnal, untamable animal,’ and laughed. There was a faint smile from Miranda as she remembered her own words. Then I took the fox boa, and placing it over my shoulders, I wound it twice round my neck and made a light knot. It felt so soft and silky. I stroked it and rubbed it against my face. ‘Let me fur you just a little, sister,’ I said. Miranda beckoned me and opened the sheets. She was actually wearing a full length, black silk nightdress, which hugged her body and was held over her shoulders by two slim straps. I climbed in beside her and putting my arms around her neck, drew her towards me. She responded with a warm embrace and a kiss on the lips. Ooh, fox and silk – what a pairing, I thought.
‘Now Terry,’ she said, in customary controlling fashion. ‘This is a sisterly session. Gentle hugs and kisses, but nothing more. I’m too tired.’ I looked lovingly at her. ‘Why don’t you just lie back and let me fur you, and pleasure you?’ She did not resist as I lay her on her back and stretched out her arms and legs. She seemed quite drowsy as I took my dressing gown cord and tied both her hands to the bars of her bed-head. All the time I was rubbing the fur over her neck and face and whispering how much I loved her. She extended her legs to the foot of the bed and I threw off the covers. I stroked her legs and feet. I licked the soles of her feet and sucked her toes. She squirmed with pleasure. I moved up her body, which was still clad in silk, and kissed her every inch of the way till I reached her breasts. I pushed them up from the cleavage of the nightdress so they popped out, and I kissed each nipple in turn. Miranda smiled. ‘Enough Terry. I must sleep.’
I pushed the nightdress up to her waist and lay on her with my throbbing penis resting against her thigh. I fingered her clit and she was very wet. I let my fingers roam freely. ‘Enough Terry,’ she repeated. But this time I sat on her upper thighs, with my legs covering hers so she could not move. I reached into my dressing gown pocket and took hold of the knife. She had opened her eyes and was staring intently. ‘What are you doing? Where did you get the knife?’ She looked genuinely shocked. ‘Miranda,’ I said, ‘you are wearing silk, a poor choice. The silkworm is an honest toiler and spins fine thread, but is no match for the fox – I stroked the boa…or the mink – and I showed her the cuffs. ‘I am imbued with the spirit of both. You cannot resist me. I am male and female, cunning and strong.’ I smiled, enjoying the moment of power. Miranda looked stunned.
‘I have spent the whole night with my fantasies but this is for real Miranda. I want you and I am going to make love to you. There is no other course. You and I are about to become one.’ ‘Terry, no. You mustn’t. I am not ready for this.’ ‘Nor was I when you ravaged me.’ I was intent on my course of action. I held the knife and ripped through the silk, splitting the material from bottom to top. I tore the material apart and fell upon Miranda, kissing her breasts and biting her neck and kissing her lips with undue force. She squirmed, calling ‘no, no,’ but I raced on. I pushed the fur between her legs and rubbed vigorously. At one point I used my finger to push some of the boa right inside her. She offered no resistance. I rubbed her till the fur was truly wet and covered in her dampness.
Using my hand to guide my throbbing penis I entered her and began pumping furiously – in and out. She yelled and gasped and I put the fur into her mouth, forcing it in. I covered her eyes with another piece of fur. I pumped faster and faster. Then as the sweat fell from my forehead I unraveled the boa and wrapped half of it around Miranda’s neck and half around mine. We were joined at the neck. She breathed faster and began biting my neck and hands, wherever she could reach with her mouth. Apparently strengthened by the fox necklace she wrenched her hands free of the restraints. I felt them clasp my back and Miranda yelled, ‘Now! Now! Come now!’ I felt the surge of passion and shouted, ‘Yes, now!’ At once Miranda dug her nails into my buttocks and raked them across my bare skin. The pain was intense, the old wounds re-opened.
I exploded at this second and the noise that forced itself from me was like a primal scream, a mixture of intense pleasure and searing pain, a scream that had been waiting all my years to get out. Miranda caught the moment, yelling too. Her body shook and shuddered and we both clasped each other with all the strength left within us. We were as one for that amazing moment, physically tied together by a golden fox boa. Time stopped. The world evaporated. Utter calm. Slowly, slowly, we relaxed until dreams and exhaustion overtook us. We fell asleep.
We had hardly moved when I awoke and sensed the day was well advanced. I kissed Miranda’s breast to wake her. She stirred and smiled. What relief. ‘Miranda, what time is aunt Louise due back?’ ‘Mid-day,’ she said. ‘Well it’s ten to twelve now.’ ‘God, we’d better get going. My dad’s going kill us both if he finds us like this.’ We got up and untangled ourselves. The fox boa had not escaped the night’s activity, almost as if its job had been to unite us. I could see blood, sperm and sweat all over it. ‘I’ll hide it for now and clean it later,’ Miranda quipped as she flung it in its drawer. I grabbed my dressing gown and belt and then we heard voices downstairs. I ran for the bathroom and dived in as the voices came upstairs. Miranda must have succeeded in clearing away the debris. There were greetings, jokes, laughter. I heard Miranda say that she had overslept on account of the storm and she guessed I had too. It seemed reasonable. They seemed unconcerned.
They went downstairs. I came out and went to my room where the bed was suitably messy. I dressed and packed, went down for a coffee and the greeting. It was polite enough. I wanted to leave and they wanted be alone, en famille. It would be a fast exit. I went back upstairs to fetch my bag and I wanted the tape which I had left in Miranda’s room. But it was aunt Louise, not Miranda who followed me to the bedroom and closed the door. ‘Did you have a nice time?’ she asked. ‘Yes, I did.’ ‘Terry, I want you to understand that what happened here between you and me…well, it never happened. You promise me that, don’t you?’ She looked quite stressed.
‘Aunt Louise, it was so beautiful that I think it must have been a fantasy.’ She smiled. ‘But answer me one question, Louise. If you care for fur as much as I do, then is there a force you find almost uncontrollable? You are the only one I know who might understand. Will you talk to me about it?’ ‘Terry I can’t. Not right now. Maybe another time. It’s true your mother is not so intense about it and Miranda is a wild thing, but not driven by fur. You and I are different, I know that. This is all I can say. By the way, changing the subject, did you behave nicely together, you and Miranda?’ ‘Oh, yes, we got to know each other quite well.’ She smiled happily and kissed me on both cheeks. ‘Good luck. We’ll talk again.’
We went downstairs and I said my farewells and left. Miranda walked a while with me to the corner of the road. There she handed me a package. I opened it. It was the tape and the book by Angela Carter and a strip of purple-dyed mink. ‘The most expensive bookmark you can buy,’ she said. ‘Thank you for an amazing time,’ I said, struggling with my emotions. ‘You have helped me grow up some. It’s like that cliché – I arrived a boy and left a man.’ ‘A man? Are you sure?’ she teased. We laughed. ‘You are cleverer than I thought,’ she said, ‘or maybe you just have some magic helper.’ ‘Just that,’ I said. We parted and I headed for the train and the countryside. The weather was glorious, a warm sunny day after the night’s storm. Fur goddess, I pleaded, let me be, if only for a day. And she did, but only for a day.
I arrived home, tired and feeling quite drained. I wanted sleep and time to think. My mother was pleased to see me, my sister less so. She had enjoyed my mother’s undivided attentions. Mother quizzed me about the trip and she seemed especially concerned about aunt Louise and how much time I had spent with her. I always thought my mother knew more than she let on. She seemed relieved that aunt Louise had been away for so long and that Miranda and I had got to know each other. She never suspected that Miranda and I might get on so well, but I think she had less trust of her friend Louise. ‘You wanted to get to know more about girls, didn’t you?’ she said. ‘Yes, and now I think I begin to understand them a little better.’
I sensed the conversation would get round to fur sooner or later. ‘Did you see any of Louise’s furs? I gather she has a fine collection.’ ‘Well, Miranda told me about them when she was trying to explain about a girl’s fashion needs – part on my education, she called it.’ I could see she was wanting to ask more but I really was not encouraging it. ‘Louise phoned me you know, to say you were on your way. She said you and Miranda had got on well and Miranda spoke highly of you. She said you were much better company than she had supposed. Like having a sister, she said.’
‘Oh well, I’m pleased ‘cos it was a learning experience for me.’ ‘Louise said you looked after the house and nothing was broken or out of place. She also said she had bought a new coat – a mink. Did you see it?’ ‘I don’t think Aunt Louise wore it,’ I said. ‘I saw her in a fox, though. Miranda did mention a black mink with a hood, would that be it?’ ‘Yes. It’s a wonderful coat apparently. Louise says she feels very powerful and wicked when she wears it. Anyway, it inspired me to buy a new coat. Would you like to come with me to the furriers tomorrow to see what they’ve got? It would be a good experience for you.’ I agreed to go.
Next day we set off – back to London. I was excited and wondered how I would cope surrounded by an array of new fur coats, and how would I, or should I influence my mother’s choice. Would I get a sign? Would an inner voice guide me? Would the sales staff guess at my private passion. Would I get over excited? ‘Mother,’ I asked, on the train, ‘do you think we all meet up in this life with someone who shares and understands our true nature? Is it inevitable, or might you go through life alone – spiritually I mean? Mother looked at me sadly. ‘It’s often a lonely journey,’ she said, ‘but you never know. Maybe you have a god to guide you.’ Or a goddess, I mused.
I glanced out at the passing rows of houses in the London suburbs and wondered if anyone in those thousands upon thousands of dwellings, there or in any other city, really shared my obsessions and were driven by the same complexity of desires and longings. Could someone feel it as overwhelmingly as I did? Did the spirit of the fur haunt them, trick them and reward them like me? I thought aunt Louise might have some answers and Miranda too. But not all, only part. Mother too, perhaps.
I had to hope and be patient. I knew there would be another time and another place. Fur knows how to wait.
A while ago I started a piece of writing called ‘Furever’ about my passion for fur and my relationships with my mother, my sister, my Aunt Louise and her wild daughter, Miranda. Then I received a note from my sister, who features prominently in that story. I was really shocked to discover that she had secretly known of my secret fur obsession for a long time, and that she had been spying on me, and that she had read all that I had written.
My sister, it is clear, secretly witnessed some of my private moments with fur and with my varied fantasies. All in all, the note came as an incredible and unwelcome surprise because my sister was determined to reveal more of my secret life than I had ever intended. It made me feel so vulnerable. This is what she wrote on a scrap of paper left by my bedside.
I have just witnessed you at play in my room and I know your secret life and passions. I have also discovered your masterpiece, ‘Furever’, which I read several times! You tell only one side of the story. Not surprising perhaps, as you’re a boy, or apparently a boy. In your account of events you have not even given me, your sister, a name! There’s a lot you have never understood about yourself, or me. Well, I am now going to tell the world some things about yourself that are very revealing and for some quite shocking! It may seem wicked of me, but you deserve it, because you’re a little shit. I’ll give you my side of the story to publish in due course and you’d better publish it…or I will!
Your sister Evie
In due course Evie’s account of events arrived by my bedside. I decided I had to publish it. So here it is. I have added more of Evie’s thoughts at the end and decided not to say any more myself. This is Evie’s story.
I grew up in a small house in the countryside near London. I had a younger brother called Terry. Our father left home when we were little. I was three years older than Terry, and much smarter. I spent much of my time looking after Terry, teaching him all sorts of games and helping him to grow up a contented little boy.
Our mother had a thing about clothes and especially about fur, and silk and ‘feely’ textures. She imbued this love of touch in both Terry and me. I knew it about Terry, but he never surmised it of me. Nor it seemed did Mother. She encouraged Terry’s passion for fur, constantly indulging him by leaving furs by his bed at night for him to play with, and by talking to him about the joy of fur. Terry loved the attention and went wild for fur. I, on the other hand, was a secretive child and Mother never realised I also had the passion for fur. I spent many hours looking after my little brother. I helped him become the person he now is. But my kindness was never appreciated.
Terry was naïve enough to think I did not know about his obsession. But I did. I listened and watched. I knew virtually everything. I have to admit that I was jealous of my mother’s attentions towards my little brother and sometimes, especially in recent times, I have really wanted to come out to Terry and share this passion together. But how can you trust such a beast. For Terry – around fur – can be unbelievably wild and dangerous. He even believes he is in touch with a divine Goddess of Fur who controls his passion.
When Terry was a still a baby, Mother liked to lay him on the floor and wrap him in one of her fur coats or stoles. She had a black mink stole and Terry always got excited and laughed a lot whenever she wrapped him in that. She used to bind the mink around his body and smother him with kisses, calling him ‘my little fur baby’. I liked the feel of the fur as well, so whenever I could, I used to lie cuddling Terry, both of us playing in the smooth, shiny, tingly, black mink. I used to rub the fur all over our bodies and Terry always got very excited, laughing and gurgling. I think we both got quite obsessed by this kind of play, though Terry was not old enough to begin to think about it, and to this day he seems to remember nothing about it. The fact is, it was I, quite as much as Mother, or his fur goddess, who ensured Terry was ensnared by fur for the rest of his life.
And ensnared he is. I know it. I knew it long before I read his story ‘Furever’. And I know so much more than Terry would choose to reveal himself. And I admit it, I’m hooked as well.
As we grew up, I watched Terry get more and more excited by fur and by things female. Mother would not just let him alone with her furs at bedtime. She encouraged him to use her perfume, and although Terry does not mention this, she used to let him wear her jewelry. She loved to drape long strings of pearls around his neck and place shiny bracelets on his wrists. I know she spent time telling him all about her makeup. I saw all this and was profoundly jealous. I was jealous because I loved fur, but could never admit it openly to Mother or Terry. I was jealous because Terry was apparently the daughter Mother wanted. Why, I wondered, was I not included.
However, when both of them were out of the house, I used to collect one of the furs from her room, and some basic makeup, and go back to my room where I would apply the mascara and lipstick, dress up in my most glamorous outfit and then drape the fur around me. I was still young but I would pose in front of the mirror and have wild thoughts. I loved all the furs my mother owned, especially the magnificent arctic fox, a full-length dream of a coat. Wearing it made me feel so beautiful, so elegant, so self-assured. It helped me survive in what seemed a lonely world. Fur befriended me and I trusted it. For a long time fur was the only friend this young girl had.
I sometimes used to take one of Mother’s furs into my room at night, and trust that she did not notice. I would hide it in my large bedroom cupboard and then I would take the fur with me to bed. I would roll in it, cuddle it, kiss it and rub myself all over with it. I soon learnt that I became very excited when I rubbed my breasts and between my legs. I mean I learnt this at a young age and I just loved to rub fur across my clit, before using my fingers to bring on a climax. Sometimes I used a silver fox boa that I bought from a market stall with my own savings. And it did not matter what state it was in afterwards as I kept it hidden in my room. Sometimes, after long, provocative dreams, I would get up in the night and holding my fox boa at either end I would draw it back and forth between my legs. If I stood in front of the large mirror on my dressing table I could watch my body writhing in pleasure. I would stand feet apart, and as I climaxed I would pull the fur as tightly as I could into my tingling nether parts. Afterwards I would fall into a deep, satisfying sleep.
It was one morning after I had performed my fur ritual that Terry came into my room to ask to borrow money and saw Mother’s brown fox cape on my chair. It was an old fur but I loved its gentle, thick textures and wild brown hues. ‘What are you doing with that?’ he said, as if I have stolen his property. ‘Mother must have left it,’ I said. ‘No she didn’t. She didn’t wear it last night. She never even went out.’ Terry was panicking, perhaps fearing that Mother might have a secret with me too. He was insanely jealous where mother’s affections were concerned. Feeling cornered, I resorted to threats. I called Terry a sissy and said I would tell all his friends about his passion for fur and for perfume. He looked very worried and scared. He didn’t think I had ever noticed his games with Mother. He started angrily to throw punches, rather pathetic ones it has to be said. I tried to control him. I could see how sensitive he was but I resented the violence. Then he flung his arm at me and caught me across the neck. I felt the nails slice the skin. I felt a surge of pain and then the bleeding started. I shouted. Terry began to cry. Mother arrived on the scene, and to my amazement, scolded me! Terry, her precious boy, got away blameless. I was doubly resentful, first because I had been caught out, and second because Mother took sides. She never asked how the fur got to be in my room. She just picked it up and took it back to her wardrobe. The incident was never discussed.
I could never really forgive Terry for this vicious little assault and vowed revenge … one day. I also decided my mother was never going to be a real friend to me and so I sought out a buddy instead. I found her one-day when Mother’s friend Aunt Louise came to our house and I met her daughter Miranda. Louise was not a real aunt, but we called her ‘Aunt Louise’. I loved her visiting, as Terry did, because she so often wore a fur coat and each one was stunning. Over time Miranda and I became very close friends – very close. We grew up together, meeting as often as we could. But our attraction became physical and we began a passionate, but secret, romance. I confided in her my obsession for fur and she really wanted to indulge me, especially as Aunt Louise had a wardrobe full of fur coats. Miranda felt attracted to me too and so kisses and cuddles inevitably led to greater things. Miranda was the dominant partner, choosing when and how we had sex together. She was interested in making me do things I had never done before and she introduced me to her sex toys, especially her strap-on dildo. This she wore with pride and loved to push me on my knees and make me lick its slender length. She would push it so hard into my mouth that I often gasped for breath and then choked achingly as the tip thrust into my mouth. I learnt – as Terry has done -that Miranda liked to tease, to threaten and to give pain.
I remember once going to stay at Miranda’s house when Aunt Louise went out for the evening, leaving us alone. Miranda was determined to test my fur obsessions and also to show her power over me. I was young and naïve. I asked if we could look at Aunt Louise’s fur collection. Miranda agreed but she would not let me near them. ‘Sit on the bed’, she ordered, and watch me. She slowly undressed herself, till she was quite naked. And she chose one sumptuous coat after another, caressing it, trying it on, parading before me provocatively while I begged to be allowed to touch, to feel. ‘Miranda,’ I pleaded, ‘I only want to touch them.’ Each time she put on a different coat – fox, raccoon, coyote, mink, sable – I would lie on the bed and stretch out a hand to touch the coat. But Miranda moved out of reach. ‘No touching,’ she insisted, ‘till I say so.’ If I came too close she would lean over and smack me on the leg. I would squeal with pain and she would laugh.
Finally she came to the side of the bed and instructed me to undress. I did so quickly, in expectation of enjoying the furs. I sat rather shyly before Miranda. I was in her house, in her power too. She stood against the end of the bed with her legs apart and drew the sable coat wide open with her arms. She beckoned me towards her. I crawled across the bed.
‘Turn on your back’, she said slowly. ‘Bring your head between my legs and pleasure me. Be very gentle.’ I did as she demanded, putting my head face up and letting her lower her pussy over my face. I began to run my tongue up and down her clit and slowly I moved my arms behind her back till I had grasped the coat in both hands. Miranda sighed with delight. As long as I could touch the fur I was happy to do anything Miranda asked of me. I worked my tongue around her swelling lips, lapping up her free-flowing juices. She moaned and began to fur my breasts and nipples with the sable. My delight must have shown and Miranda slowly lowered her body on top of me, so I was still tonguing her wildly when she stretched over and began on me. Her tongue lashed over my most sensitive parts, which were wet with excitement, till I climaxed, grasping as much of the sable as I could, sensing the surge through my arching body. I clawed the fur with both hands. I felt Miranda’s softness beneath the coat and hugged her lithe body with both my arms and my thighs, which were wrapped about her head. I let out a muffled scream of pleasure.
Miranda seemed equally excited, but did not stay still for long. She seemed to climax, clinging to me as her body stretched and stiffened. But then she got up quickly and left for her room. ‘Tidy up please, my dear Evie. See you shortly.’ And away she went.
And so I learned of Miranda’s desire to be the dominatrix. But I still loved the raw passion of those moments and adored Miranda for all her demanding ways. On that occasion, I did not just put the furs away. I dressed in each one in turn, parading momentarily before the mirror and then I finally hung each one back in its place. Except I could not resist the sable. Once more I put it around my shoulders. I lay in a hazy dream, encased in the rich brown softness, for what seemed like eternity. I felt so at peace. I knew I could trust the sable and I wished then that it might do some damage to my fiendish brother.
I returned home the following day.
Meanwhile I watched Terry grow up. He reached puberty. He was a very handsome boy and he knew it. Mother’s friends – including Aunt Louise – kept telling him what a beautiful ‘creature’ he was. And while I always knew of his passion for fur, it was only in his early teens when I actually saw it in the flesh, first hand. I also saw his passion for dressing up in my clothes! My brother demonstrated in one afternoon how he was a closet transvestite as well as a fur fetishist! And he was more besides. It all happened after I began to get a strong sense that he was using my room while I was out of the house. Things on my dressing table like makeup were not quite in the place I used to leave them. My clothes were not as neatly set out in the drawers, as I would have left them. My long blond wig seemed slightly disheveled. I was curious and suspicious and I wanted to see what was going on, so I devised a plan.
One afternoon Mother left to see a friend in a nearby town. Terry thought I had gone out with mother. She called ‘goodbye’ as she left the house. I called ‘goodbye’ as if I was leaving too, but I crept upstairs and into the cupboard in my room. This was a store cupboard, used for sheets and blankets. I did not keep any clothes in it except my fox boa. Only Mother ever used it for storage. It was pitch black in there so you could not see inside from the room at all if the door was slightly ajar. I sat on a chair and waited, heart thumping. I had a fair view of most of the room, including my dressing table, where I kept make-up, underwear, stockings and jewelry and a wardrobe where I kept dresses, trousers and shoes. And I could see my bed.
Sure enough, I had judged Terry correctly. I heard him in the bathroom, taking a shower and within twenty minutes I heard him come into my room. I looked up and he was quite naked, except for – and this was a shock – a black, under-wired, stretch lace bra and matching thong, inside which bulged his soft penis. He wore the arctic fox over one shoulder. It was a glorious coat, full length with a huge collar. The colour was steely cold, but gentle, grey flecked with white. The coat had such a cool aura about it that I was not that surprised to see Terry look into the mirror and smile. He pulled the coat around him, hugging it with both arms and then began stroking it, drawing his fingers up and down the silken strands. He pulled the collar around his neck and kissed the fur, arching his body as if posing for a camera. He spoke to the fur, calling it ‘my darling’ and ‘you gorgeous bitch’. He sighed and, bending forward, kissed his lips on the glass of the mirror. Then he opened up my top drawer, reached for the contents and began a make-up routine.
With the coat draped over his shoulders and cascading to the floor, he applied a moisturising cream over his face before dabbing it off with a tissue. Then he used a finger to rub a pale eyeshade over his eyelids, followed by a dark curve along the socket line, gently blending the two. He then swept eye sparkle over the brow bone and dusted it around the corner of each eye. With two coats of mascara applied, he fluttered his eyes and smiled. ‘Not bad, darling,’ and he patted the coat. The fur began to slip. He pulled it back over his shoulders, stroking the long lustrous strands. ‘Not so fast, lover. Stay and keep me company. I’m going to need you very soon.’ He talked to the coat as he continued stroking the collar, pausing to kiss it lovingly. Then he turned back to the drawer and selected a deep red lipstick. He worked it across the top and bottom lip, highlighting the contours of his generous lips. And then he applied a high-shine lip-gloss. He dusted blush beneath the cheekbone, then using the brush, blended up towards the temples, creating a dramatic look of real professional and theatrical quality. I was amazed at the result – so feminine, so chic, and so sexy!
Terry searched for and found my false nails, long and red, which he applied with consummate ease, pausing only to admire the outcome. Then he picked up the blond wig and fitted it over his head, easily covering all trace of his short crop. He brushed the hair slowly, shaping the fringe across his brow and the long, gleaming strands down over the shoulders. When he finished brushing he put his head back and shook it from side to side, causing the hair to cascade over the fur. It was a glorious site from where I was hidden. Finally he used a pencil to enhance and sharpen the curve of his eyebrows. The whole process had taken almost an hour. I was mesmerized. I was astonished at my little brother’s transformation from handsome guy to slutty sexy chick.
Terry looked at himself for an age, pouting into the mirror on the dressing tale, checking the fit of the wig and adjusting the earrings. He reached into my jewelry box and took out a pearl necklace. It fitted rather like a choker, four strands tall, and then it fell in loops onto the chest. He attached the clasp at the back of the neck with the dexterity of a woman who wears necklaces every day. He added a silver bracelet to his left wrist. He smiled and patted the luxuriant collar: ‘Nearly there, angel.’ He pulled the black stockings up each leg, straightening the seem at the back and then he eased his feet gracefully into the shoes, a pair of silver platform shoes with ankle fastenings and five inch heels tapering to a sharp point– the raunchiest shoes I possessed. He stood up to survey his work.
For one moment he turned and looked straight at the cupboard where I was hiding. Our eyes actually met, although he did not know it. I was aghast. Terry was indeed a girl, a lovely girl. I yearned to reveal myself but I held fast. My heart was beating wildly. I was giddy with excitement. I felt so confused, so unprepared for my own emotions, let alone Terry’s transformation. He walked up and down in front of the mirror with a calm, exotic aura, like one utterly accustomed to such apparel and even such high heels. He swirled about the room – in and out of my restricted vision. He paused before the mirror. Throwing back his head and opening up the coat to reveal the sexy underwear. He caressed the coat again and again. He called out loud to his divine inspiration, his fur goddess. He had mentioned this before and I had not until now understood its significance for Terry.
‘Come to me, my Goddess, come!’ he implored. His passion was rising. I could detect it in his voice and I could see his bulge growing under the lace thong. Eventually he could restrain himself no more. He slipped his hand into the black lace and let his penis project forward, quite erect. He called out: ‘Look, look, Goddess.’ He massaged the tip with his thumb and forefinger, squeezing the head between the long red nails. He squealed with delight … or was it pain. He gripped the collar of the coat tightly with fingers of his other hand.
His eyes were wild. He posed before the mirror and flounced about the room. He gyrated his whole body like a lap-dancer. He whispered loudly through glistening, pouty lips: ‘I want you to take me now. Please take me, Goddess. I am here. I am yours. Come to me. Enter me now!’ And he ran a clenched fist up and down the shaft of his penis, faster and faster; red nails glistening, fur coat trembling with anticipation. He called out in a frenzied voice: ‘yes, yes. I’m here for you.’ And then, and then – I could hardly contain myself as I’d never seen a boy cum before – came the explosion, more intense than I had ever imagined. His body shuddered and the fur shook, and the cool, silken strands reverberated into a thousand shades. They glowed. Every hair seemed alive and pulsating, standing perfectly erect. The room went electric. Terry sank to his knees, hunched like an animal, arms surging to and fro. He ejaculated, howling wildly. Even I shook then, gripped by a kind of guilty excitement. He caught the semen in his cupped hands, raising it to his mouth and licked the juices. He ran his hands over his face, smearing the lipstick. He yelled out in a near tearful voice: ‘Sex the fur! Sex the female in me! Sex me now!’ Then he prostrated himself on the floor and lay still, breathing heavily.
Time passed. Terry looked exhausted. He slowly stood up in front of the mirror, still gasping for breath. He closed his eyes for a few moments. The room was calm again, strangely quiet. I held my breath. Then he looked into space. ‘Oh my Fur Goddess, look how you have transformed me! Are you not pleased?’ He stood still, legs apart, and threw his head back. He closed his eyes. He hugged the coat to his body. He inhaled deeply, as if desperate for air. He sighed and whimpered, almost crying. I did not move a muscle. I was too scared to blink in case I gave myself away. The fox coat looked resplendent and triumphant, still encasing its victim.
Terry slowly turned around and again stared into my eyes as if he knew someone was in the cupboard. He could not have known, could he? I gasped as he walked towards me, but when he was within touching distance of the door, he turned and rested his back against it. As he lent back, the door closed and a long strand of the fur was caught in the crack. I reached out to stroke it, sensing its silky touch and picturing Terry caressing himself just the other side. I went on stroking the softness till suddenly Terry yelled again like a second coming, only this time there was a long cry that sounded like ‘Evie’ – or was that my imagination? Terry pulled away. The coat vanished and the door closed, leaving me in darkness. I sat, almost quaking, as I heard Terry moving about the room. Drawers opened and closed. Finally I heard him walk down the corridor to the bathroom, to Mother’s room and then to his own room. Music started.
My head was spinning. My body would not move. My brain had seized up. I was shocked by all I had witnessed and even more at my own emotions. After a while I crept out and surveyed my room. It was almost as I had left it but there were tell-tale signs of Terry’s presence that only I would spot. I walked silently passed his room and down the stairs. At the front door I stopped. I opened it and shut it as if I had just returned. I went to make tea in the kitchen. Terry came down from his room and appeared quite natural. I was amazed at how calm he seemed. We exchanged ‘hellos’. He asked if I had just come home. He seemed satisfied with my nod and went back upstairs.
I was left to reflect on what had happened and why I was so moved by it all. I was beginning to understand the incredible intensity of Terry’s passion. I considered that he really might be under the control of some potent spirit and I began to wonder where it would all lead. I was shocked by my attraction to Terry. Should a sister fancy a brother? How could I be attracted to a fiend?
It was a few weeks later that Terry went off to stay with Aunt Louise and Miranda. I was wildly jealous. I knew Aunt Louise’s furs intimately and I knew Miranda might play around with Terry. She quizzed me about him and I let slip that he was mad about fur and dressing. She was excited and I knew things would happen. Only weeks later did Miranda admit some of what happened between her and Terry. The rest I read in Terry’s own account. I was so angry that Miranda had betrayed our relationship and also so envious. I wanted revenge on both of them. Terry came back a changed person from his stay, more confident, more assertive and more calculating. Miranda was no longer someone I could rely on. I felt Terry had stolen my friend and lover. I was now angry with both.
On his first day back after his stay, Terry set off to London with Mother to the furriers. Mother had heard about Aunt Louise’s stunning mink coat and she was determined to acquire her own, though I never understood where the money came from. I was so jealous when I heard her invite Terry to join her that day. I wanted to go. He would not tell me about it afterwards except to say that he had been in favour of a sable coat, but it was too expensive and Mother had settled for a black mink. It was the mother of all furs, long and sleek, shiny and luxuriant. It glowed like some exotic beacon, exuding sex, wealth, power. It had the touch of velvet and the look of ebony, soft but durable. It had a broad, fan collar and wide generous sleeves. I melted with yearning the moment I saw it. In fact it was some days before I was able to take hold of it. When I did, I had one overriding desire, to share its pleasures with Miranda. If only Miranda had been there. She was not, so I worked myself into a private, sensuous frenzy, encased in this blackest and slinkiest of furs.
The next time I heard Terry checking on mine and mother’s movements I knew he was planning another session and I was determined to check it out. It was now only a couple of weeks after his stay with Miranda. I was in bad frame of mind. In the morning, Mother left the house about nine to catch the train to London. I waited till Terry was in the shower and called out ‘Bye Terry, tell Mother I’ll be back late’. I slammed the front door and then moved swiftly back upstairs to my room. With a bottle of water and my fur boa for company, I slipped in to the cupboard and sat on a low chair with the door just a few inches ajar, enough to see most of the room. My heart was pounding. Then I heard Terry on the phone to a young friend of his, whom I had met a couple of times.
‘Hi Bobby, are you coming round? The house is empty. It’s quite safe. Remember to bring the fur…your Mum’s fox…it’s a crystal fox, isn’t it… yes…and anything else you can… What? Your sister’s lingerie… great… and a dress. What about shoes? Okay, you can use a pair of Evie’s. Did you buy some stockings? And nails? Great. I’ve got the makeup, yes, but what about the wig? Okay.’ There was a pause. Bobby must have been anxious. He was a friend of Terry, but I never guessed they had this sort of friendship. Bobby was younger than Terry and he had an older sister, Selena, about Terry’s age. I liked her and I thought Bobby was pretty cute. I even told him jokingly when we had last met in the street. They lived a mile or two away. I sensed Booby was under pressure to join Terry’s activity.
‘Look Bobbs, put it all in a sports bag and say we might be going to the park. What’s the problem? Come on, just go for it… Listen, when you get here I will be a real doll. You’ll be amazed. Think about it…I will be your servant girl – at your disposal – how’s that? Don’t act shy on me now…okay. See you in an hour. Bobby… relax. OK?’ The phone went down and I heard Terry scream with delight. ‘Oh, Bobby, you are in for a big surprise, you beauty.’ I sensed Terry was up for something and I was worried for Bobby.
In that hour, Terry did indeed transform himself into a ‘doll’, with clothes I had never seen before: a black see-through blouse over a black lace bra; a short leather skirt; knee-high, black patent boots with high, high heels and front lacing; a long black wig; dark make-up with heavy red eyelids and glossy red lips and black lycra gloves. Round his neck he wound the pearl choker. He sprayed my perfume around his body. Over it all Terry wore the arctic fox. He gave a cool, casual impression by pushing up the wide collar and by rolling up the wide sleeves to his elbows. He looked a million dollars, head to toe in shimmering, shiny black, coated in steely-soft fur. He paraded up and down my room, flirting with his own mirror image and swirling around to let the fur coat show itself off at its dazzling best. Then the front door bell rang. Terry went down to greet Bobby and I settled myself into my ringside seat, nervous with anticipation.
Terry returned to the room, leading a shy-looking young Bobby, with a bottle of wine in his hand. ‘Sit on the stool, Bobbs, and put your case down. Have a swig of wine…it’s expensive stuff…French Burgundy.’ Terry was speaking in a slow, soft voice. ‘Now I want to look at me and tell me who I look like.’ Before Bobby answered he took a long swig of wine. And another.
‘You remind me of Evie, your sister. You look like a …’ his voice faltered…’you look like a very sexy Evie’. He blushed and looked up at Terry. I listened with amazement. Terry knelt before Bobby and took his hands in his. He put each hand onto his shoulders, one at a time. Terry looked lovingly into Bobby’s eyes. He smiled, licking his lips provocatively. He flirted with those beautiful eyes, fluttering the lids.
‘Bobbs, imagine I am Evie. I am here for you, to do with as you please. Evie said she liked you, didn’t she? Well, tell this Evie what you want. And while you think about it, put your arms right around me and feel the touch of arctic fox. Stroke the fox, Bobbs. Doesn’t it feel great?’ Bobby nodded. ‘Would you like to dress as I am?’ Bobby nodded. ‘Would you like to have me make you up, like me, like Evie?’ He nodded again. ‘Bobby, I can tell you that this Evie will do anything you want. She’s really a slave, Bobby. So Evie is yours, Bobbs…right now…this minute.’
Bobby then slowly began to caress the fur coat, moving his hands over Terry’s shoulders and down the back. He let his head rest on Terry’s shoulder as if weighing up the decisions he had to make. After a while, Terry took Bobby’s face between his black-gloved hands and he leant forward and kissed his lips, quite softly. Bobby melted and, burying his face into Terry’s neck and the lustrous collar of the coat, he started weeping, as if the moment was overpowering. ‘Evie,’ he whispered, ‘make me beautiful now.’
Between Bobby’s tears and the hugs and gentle caressing, Terry worked his spell. I felt increasing anxiety about Bobby’s feelings and Terry’s manipulation of them. But Terry, resplendent in his female persona, was in command. He acted the servant girl to perfection, but really he was in command. ‘Tell Evie what you want, Bobby,’ he stated softly. ‘Evie will do whatever you want. She is your willing slave, no more than a slut. Be her mistress!’
Bobby seemed in a state of high excitement and completely under Terry’s spell. He opened his bag and took out the clothes, laying them on the bed. The last item was his mother’s crystal fox. What a coat – a full-length, multi-coloured, shining gem! It must have been so soft to the touch I kept thinking. Bobby took another large mouthful of wine and turned to Terry. His face looked flushed. ‘I want you to undress me now, Evie. Then help me dress in my new outfit. Then make me up. Then, and only then, will I allow myself to put on the fur.’ Bobby was trying to sound commanding, but he was really nervous.
And so it was that Terry began to undress Bobby, taking off his shoes, trousers and T-shirt. To my surprise, and I think Terry’s, Bobby was already wearing white stockings, a white suspender belt, and pink lacy see-through knickers, which covered a lovely little dick. Terry wolf-whistled when he saw this. I even heard myself whisper ‘Wow!’
‘Get the bra, Evie, please and help me put it on. Put the fillers in after you have attached it…Now the dress, help me into that.’ Terry helped him slide into a very short, glittering red silk dress, covered in sparklers. Bobby added a wide red shiny belt. ‘Now please put those shoes on and tie the buckles for me.’ Terry obediently slid Bobby’s feet into a pair of my red platform shoes with long spiked heels and ankle straps. Bobby gazed quickly at his mirror image and then at Terry. ‘ Now Evie, the make up.’ Bobby sat, quiet and patient.
Terry began the make up routine, exactly the same as his. He told Bobby what he was doing and sought agreement at each stage. ‘Are you happy with the false eye-lashes…would you like more mascara…is that enough lip gloss…are you pleased with the nails?’ Gradually Bobby became a woman in every aspect of appearance and Terry kept up a reassuring message that his guest was looking stunning. And I thought so too, I must admit. Intermittently, Terry would pause and rub a furred sleeve over Bobby’s neck and back. He would kiss Bobby on the neck or cheek. I could sense the atmosphere in the room turning and shifting, and it was affecting me too. I could almost touch the electric charges reverberating in the hushed stillness. I too wanted to be made beautiful, to be so indulged and pampered. But more than that desire, I was hating Terry for abusing me to his friend as he did. Who was he calling a slut!
Meanwhile, Terry was busy. There were bracelets and earrings to attach and then a long, brown, curly wig to fit. It completed a near magical transformation. Terry stood back to admire his new friend. ‘Well Bobbs,’ he sighed, ‘you look quite gorgeous, and so sexy. Are you ready for the finale? Shall I bring the fur to you?’ Bobby nodded and Terry carried the beautiful crystal fox coat to Bobby and helped him slide into it. It was a glorious coat, so sumptuous I wanted to scream. The colours were translucent: the coolest of creams, with blends of light browns and hints of ebony, topped by streaks of purest white. The fur was thick, the coat so full, that it almost dwarfed young Bobby. It seemed to compete for attention with the exquisite fox of my mother. There was an uncertain colour combination when the two coats brushed against each other. I watched the two lady-boys stare into each other’s eyes, and the almost forced smiles on those glossiest of red lips. I saw the sense of attraction running between them. I also saw two proud and awesome fox coats dancing head to head and I knew, I just knew, that there would be pain and tears.
Terry put his arm around his friend and turned him towards the mirror. ‘Look, Bobs, what a pair we make. What a turn on it is. Haven’t you always wanted to do this? Don’t you feel just so wonderful like this?
‘Yes, I feel so powerful. Ever since I was seven or eight I have been dressing as a girl but now you’ve made me look and feel like one. I feel so alive, so excited.’
And what about fur? Have always loved fur and wanted to dress like this?’
‘Oh yes, yes. Oh Terry, this is amazing. I’m shaking with excitement. Look, I’m trembling.’ And Bobby turned and hugged Terry. Their arms roamed up and down the fur coats. Their long nails glinted in the light as the fingers surged here and there across the silken textures. Their eyes met. Their lips touched again…and then again. There was a lingering kiss. The coats swayed to and fro. They hugged and held each other, laughing and giggling, intoxicated by their mutual attraction and the mystical magic of two fox fur coats. I watched them with yearning, and unease, till Terry, the wretch, used my name again.
‘Bobbs, remember I am Evie. What would you have me do? I want to please you. Evie is here to please you, to fulfill your dreams. Make Evie perform…for you.’
‘Evie,’ Bobby began rather slowly and hesitantly. ‘ I want you to rub the your fur coat all over me. I want you to take off my dress and panties and I want you to rub the fur all over my body.’ And so Terry did as he was bid. He undressed Bobby very slowly, talking gently as he did. Each item came off with loving attention. Bobby then lay back on the bed, partly naked, but still in bra and suspenders, still engulfed by the crystal fox, while Terry began caressing him with Mother’s coat. Bobby moaned and squirmed, and then gasped when his now erect penis was encased in the fur by Terry’s gentle handling. Terry massaged all around it, all over it, coaxing and caressing. He seemed to work the fur with increasing energy into Bobby’s receptive skin. Bobby was squirming with delight, giggling like a child.
Terry called to Bobby, whose face was now transfixed by ecstasy. ‘Bobbs, tell Evie what you want. Tell me. I’m just a willing bitch, remember.’
Bobby responded by pulling the fur away and drawing Terry’s lips onto his erect penis. ‘Evie, kiss me here.’ Terry began to lick the tip of Bobby’s prick and then he surrounded the head with his glossed lips and started to draw the shaft in and out, in and out… Bobby began moaning, then calling out: ‘Evie, suck me harder. Suck me faster. Yes, like that…more. And rub that fur over my body…faster, harder.’ Terry dug his long fingernails into Bobby’s testicles and clawed at them like a beast. He devoured the penis between his lips. He watched while Bobby arched his back and closed his eyes. It was this young boy’s heaven, a fantasy come true, and he could not contain himself any longer. He writhed with the intensity of the pleasure, screaming: ‘Oh shit, oh my god, this is it … I love it … ooh yes, yes, aaah! Oh no…yes…yes… Evie … oooh, Evie… aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.…’
I closed my eyes and covered my ears, letting the moment pass, trying to cut out the sound of my name being yelled out. There was a long pause before I looked up. The two young bodies lay still, close together, engulfed in fur. For me, utter disbelief. I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing and hearing. Bobby had been so led on by Terry, but he had enjoyed a monster of an orgasm. Terry had given his friend a lot of pleasure, but seemed detached, conniving. He got up smiling, wiping his mouth. ‘I’m going to freshen up Bobby,’ he said and floated out the room.
He called from the bathroom: ‘Bobby, do me the biggest favour. Take off the rest of your clothes and then put the fur back on. Okay?’ Bobby looked surprised at this command, but he slowly took off the shoes, stockings and suspenders, and bra. He gathered the fur coat around his now naked body. He lounged on the bed for a while and then sat before the mirror to inspect himself. He was gazing dreamily at his own feminine image, caressing the fur, when Terry returned, newly clad in a black leather corset, the same black boots and black nylons, but wearing Mother’s new black mink instead of the fox, which he now carried over his arm. His lips were more plum coloured, his nails jet-black. He looked moodier. He flung the fox onto the bed and went and stood behind the seated Bobby, massaging his friend’s fox-furred shoulders.
‘Was that good, lover? Did you feel the like the girl you wanted to be? Did I excite you? Tell me.’
‘Oh Terry, it was…I don’t know what to say…I feel shy. It was perfect.’ He looked up to his friend and smiled.
‘How soft you feel, Bobby. How feminine you look. You are a girl in a boy’s body, you know. You must let that girl part of you flow again for me now. I want you to trust me. Listen, I am no longer Evie, Okay? I have clothed myself in leather and mink, the ultimate attire of the dominatrix. You understand, don’t you?’ Bobby nodded. ‘You, naked in fox fur, are now the willing female. I shall call you Mirada. You can now play the vulnerable, but very beautiful female. OK? Now turn and look at me.’ As he turned, Terry bent down and kissed Bobby lingeringly on the lips. ‘I want you to wear something special for me.’ And he knelt down and pulled some ankle restraints and a ball gag from under the bed. I tensed as I watched Terry’s movements.
Terry knelt before Bobby and looking into his eyes he slowly opened up Bobby’s coat. He looked so very naked and vulnerable, compared to Terry’s raunchy attire. Terry slowly lent forward and kissed each of Bobby’s nipples. Bobby looked uneasy. Terry stroked Bobby’s tender skin with the huge mink sleeves. Bobby closed his eyes, as if in submission. Terry parted his friend’s legs and saw the limp penis. He lowered his head and took the tip in his mouth and began to engage. Terry looked up at Bobby’s face, his glossed, plum-coloured lips circling the hardening penis. Bobby whimpered as Terry drew his friend’s hardened penis in and out of his mouth. Then Terry attached the ankle restraints, which left Bobby with a wide rod connecting his ankles. Slowly Terry stood up, kissed Bobby’s lips tenderly and removed the wig. He gently but deliberately tied the ball gag at the back of his friend’s head. Bobby’s mouth was forced wide open and the red ball locked into place. Terry replaced the wig over the restraining straps. Bobby looked nervous and his eyes searched Terry’s face for reassuring signs.
‘Bobby, come with me and kneel beside the bed and I will fur you with my Mother’s coat. You will like that, won’t you.’ He led Bobby to the bed and helped him to kneel down. He took the fur off Bobby’s shoulders and laid it on the bed. Then he told Bobby to lie with his face in the fur and his arms stretched above his head, and he wrapped the coat around Bobby’s head, tying the long sleeved together, so Bobby’s arms were trapped in the fur. He began to rub the arctic fox over Bobby’s back, round his buttocks and down his thighs. He used long sweeping movements, like a masseur, up and own the legs, right up into the most sensitive places. Terry spoke softly and sweetly to his friend, furring his body ever so sweetly, and just when Bobby must have been drifting into a furry fantasy, Terry knelt and put his hand under the bed and retrieved my riding crop, which he must have hidden earlier. He put his left hand firmly on Bobby’s back and his right foot on the ankle bar, restricting all Bobby’s movements. He bent down and kissed both bare buttocks lovingly before lifting the crop high in the air and bringing it down onto its target. I wanted to scream, to warn Bobby. I felt desperate and wretched. I was quivering with tension. But I never moved or uttered a sound. I sat transfixed as Terry delivered one, two three, four savage blows. The mink blurred into an angry sea of frenzy around him. The black fur glistened with flashes of clear, white light. Bobby could not move or scream. His body writhed, his legs jerked and his fists clenched above his head. His buttocks began to redden into four bloody gashes. Muffled screams filled the room.
Terry looked possessed; his eyes stark and fixed, teeth bared. He was motionless for a while until he threw the crop on the floor and bent down to the scarred buttocks and kissed them several times, licking the wounds. He was pure animal, uncontrollable and wild, tongue darting across his victim, almost in an attempt to heal the damage. Then he turned Bobby onto his back and removed the fur from around his friend’s head. Bobby looked wide-eyed, horrendously shocked and very pale. A large frown indicated his pain. His lips quivered as if his tears were about to burst. He took deep breaths through his nose. He must have hated Terry at that moment as much as I did. He might have been scared too. He looked utterly humiliated, disheveled and abandoned. But Terry was not finished. He must have felt some guilt and remorse as he quickly removed the gag and ankle clasps. He lifted Bobby to his feet and hugged his limp form. He kissed him again and again, stroking his cheeks. I’m not sure if one or both were crying.
Then Terry took off the mink and began massaging Bobby’s body with the black velvet. Bobby let himself be caressed and cuddled and slowly regained his composure. Bobby spoke first. ‘Why did you do that? It really hurts you know.’
‘Sorry, Bobbs. I can’t explain what happens to me, but the spirit of the mink takes me over. I can’t help myself. It’s overpowering. Please forgive me. I’m truly sorry for hurting you.’ Bobby stared into space, quivering. Terry too looked pained. How real that was I cannot say because I knew he had planned it all along, and Bobby must have realised that too.
After along silence Bobby said, ‘It’s ok now. Let’s move on. I have to go now anyway.’ Terry smiled and looked relieved. ‘I’ll leave you to get dressed and I’ll make some coffee downstairs. See you in a bit, Bobbs. Come down when you’re ready.’ And he kissed his friend lovingly a third time – the kiss of a traitor, I thought.
Terry collected his things and left my room. I could not bear to watch any more. I closed my eyes and began to try and make sense of so many confused emotions. Later, when all seemed quiet, I emerged from my hiding place. I could hear the boys in the kitchen. I slipped downstairs and out the front door. Sometime later I returned. My room looked normal, even my bed looked normal, but I knew it was never going to be quite the same again.
That night I wrote a little note to Terry to tell him I knew of his activities and of his story ‘Furever’. I knew it would shock him, and it did. But I told him he had to publish my side of the story. He hardly acknowledged me for days, avoiding all eye contact. After a couple of very tense weeks, Mother told me that Terry was going to spend some more time staying at Aunt Louise’s house in London as he was feeling depressed. London would revive him she thought. What about me, I thought? I decided to go on recording my observations. It would be another three months before Terry and I set eyes on each other.
Terry went away to London. I agonised about him and Miranda being together. I phoned Miranda from time to time but could never establish what was going on. I told her of Terry’s activities and she was sympathetic but not, she said, surprised. I became depressed. I sulked about the house. Then Miranda called one day to invite me over. ‘It’s a secret,’ she said. ‘Terry doesn’t know. We will surprise him and you can have your revenge.’
It was planned for when Aunt Louise was away. Mother seemed happy that I should go. ‘Time you and Terry got along,’ she said. And then she told me something that changed my life. It was such a shock that I hardly believed it. I went away a new person, wondering how to tell my news to others.
In the meantime, Miranda and I worked out a scheme. It was early evening when I arrived at the London house. Miranda was expecting me and opened the door as I approached it. She looked so attractive I could not help kissing her and hugging her. She was wearing the coyote coat and was clearly dressed in fur to provoke me, I knew. Underneath the fur she wore a black body stocking with a wide leather belt. She had black patent ankle boots with the highest of heels. I could see her nipples through the nylon and at the crotch there was a gaping hole in the material. Miranda sat provocatively in front of me and lit a cigarette. Her long red nails flashed before me like warning signs. She was outrageous, shameless.
‘Are you excited to see me?’ she said, pouting her lips and stroking her long, silken hair. I nodded and smiled and felt excited. She lent back and blew smoke into the air from between her red-glossed lips.
Terry was apparently up in the guestroom where he had been most of the day. Miranda began to tell me the comings and goings. Terry had been distant, solitary, and spent most of the time in his room, in drag. Aunt Louise knew of this and accepted it. Miranda thought she was quite excited by it in fact. She had allowed Terry to borrow her furs on occasions and seemed willing to indulge his deviant behavior. Miranda wondered if he had started hormone treatment, as his appearance was increasingly female. Most amazing of all, perhaps, was that Louise had, at Terry’s request, dyed the fabulous white fox coat and hat pink. ‘You’ll see,’ said Miranda with a smile. The coat looks incredible. He wears it a lot. But first of all you need to get ready. You can’t see Terry like that, so follow me.’ I obeyed as ever.
We went up to her room. Terry was on the floor above. ‘Sit down and let’s get you suitably attired.’ She wanted me to be her twin. I made up like her, with heavy eye shadow and mascara, full red lips, long nails, deep red. I put on a matching, black body socking, but insisted on a black lace bra and thong. I also chose to wear a short leather mini skirt. I put on black pumps with high heels. What fur should I wear, I wondered. I slipped into Aunt Louise’s room and I chose the mink for its wickedness. I was going to need it.
Miranda inspected me and we clasped each other. I looked deep in her eyes. She smiled. We kissed gently. ‘Come,’ she said. ‘Let’s surprise the ‘girl’ upstairs.’ At the door of Terry’s room, Miranda indicated for me to wait and watch. She called out to Terry. ‘Hello Terry. I’m dressed to kill so watch out!’ and she strolled into the room, the coyote swaying casually as she coquetishly approached the figure whom I no longer recognised with any certainty. My eyes moved into the room and I saw him framed in the light from the window. And how different he looked.
He was standing by an open window, inhaling smoke from a long cigarette. His hair was now quite blond and very, very short. His face was lightly made up with a soft eye-shadow and pink lipstick. He was engulfed from head to toe in the pink fox coat, and as I watched he put the pink hat on his head at a rakish angle. He turned to greet Miranda but did not see me. The coat fell open and to my amazement he seemed to have two small breasts. He certainly had pierced nipples. He wore a pink thong, pink stockings with elastic tops and pink pumps with outrageous spiked heels. His nails were pink, immaculately manicured. He smiled seductively at Miranda and, gliding towards her, put an arm around her shoulders. He kissed her on the lips and called her ‘darling…sweetie…angel.’ His voice was girlish, his manner overpoweringly feminine.
Terry stood seductively before Miranda, flicking the cigarette out of the window. He clasped the collar of the coat under his chin and looked wickedly at her. ‘Darling, you look sensational. Are you wearing that outfit because you are going to be mean to me? I hope so. I feel expectant all of a sudden. Now sweetie, please kiss me here.’ And he drew back the pink fox and proffered his nipples, clasping them between the long pink nails on either hand. Miranda bent forward and kissed both nipples, flicking her tongue up and down across the reddened buds.
Terry squirmed. ‘Ooh baby, how sensitive they are. Yummy-yummy. Don’t stop, sweetie.’ Miranda began to caress one nipple with her hand and with the other she moved down to his thong and put her hand inside it. She began to massage around his groin. She pushed the now mesmerised Terry into a seat and pulled out his now erect penis, rubbing it hard. Terry, weak with excitement, leant back and sighed. ‘Oh Miranda, more, more. Don’t stop now.’
But she slowed down and started to whisper. ‘Terry, I have a surprise. Put these on and I’ll make you really excited. Miranda produced a pair of handcuffs. Terry, now used to her games, allowed himself to be secured behind his back. He seemed to welcome the game and smiled as Miranda produced ankle restraints. ‘Let me use these,’ she said. Then she secured the ball gag. Terry was seduced by his own desires and Miranda’s power. He lay back on the chair, his hands secured, his legs forced apart, his voice silenced by the gag. Miranda knelt by his side and massaged his penis again. Terry was clearly quivering. She rubbed her fingers over his newly lubricated tip. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed. He was near to an orgasm when Miranda stopped and spoke loudly, so I could clearly hear.
‘Now Terry, here’s the surprise…a visitor, no less. It’s someone who knows you well. Look at the door, Terry… Come in mystery guest.’ Miranda started to giggle. Terry went quiet, tense, opened his eyes and stared anxiously at the door, towards me. I flashed back to times I had hidden in his room.
I pushed the door ajar and entered the room with as much presence as I could muster. Terry caught site of me. There was instant recognition. The shock was evident and his embarrassment overwhelmed him. He was speechless, motionless. I suddenly felt empowered, as if the mink coat had given me the confidence and the initiative I needed, as if Terry’s fur goddess was in me. I smiled at Terry and then Miranda. I stood before them and I determined to be in charge. The mink, my mink, was not going to be overawed by a coyote or a fox.
I spoke first: ‘Hello Terry. What a surprise. Look, here we are, in fur and all dressed up. I think it’s time for some fun, don’t you? Why are you surprised? I know all about you as you know. In fact I know a lot more now. And I have an even greater surprise for you.’ I strolled over to him and quite unprovoked I let my nails run up and down his shaft. Then I rubbed the mink over his cheek and smiled. Terry looked aghast. He tried to get up but couldn’t manage it. The restraints were too effective. I kissed Miranda longingly on the lips and watched Terry’s reaction. He turned his head away. I decided to sit in Terry’s lap, right on top of his manhood. I set the mink so it fell over his body. I stroked the pink fox, enjoying its soft, sensuous feel. I put my hands over Terry’s pert little nipples and looked straight into his eyes. I was caught between passion and revenge, between admiration and disdain. The mink hid my confusions.
‘Terry, I told Miranda about your fun in my room, one time all on your little ownsome and another time with friend Bobby. How you mistreated Bobby that day! And how you misused Miranda’s and my name. We didn’t like that. It was bad. And you must be punished, mustn’t he Miranda?’ She nodded, smiling wickedly at Terry. ‘And I want to make you pay for scratching my neck. You are wicked little thing.’ So I stood up and Miranda and I grabbed his shackled ankles and pulled them over his head. In one swift movement we attached the bar of the ankle restraint behind the back of the chair. Terry was left helpless, his rounded little bottom pointing upwards, totally unprotected. Miranda seemed animated. She produced a piece of leather and tied it around the base of Terry’s penis, trapping his balls. She tied it tight and Terry squealed in pain. She told me to rub his penis with fur to bring on the erection, which would cause more pain. Then she took a bottle of baby oil and poured it over Terry’s buttocks. She massaged it around and into his crack. Then she produced her vibrator and kneeling beside him, began to insert it. It was large and Terry groaned, but she continued slowly, bit by bit to insert it. All the time I was rubbing the mink over his penis and then around his face and neck. Terry was caught between pleasure and extreme pain. Finally, when the vibrator was well inserted Miranda secured it with a wad of adhesive tape and applied the power. Terry jumped as the impact took hold.
Miranda and I stood back to watch Terry. We must have looked merciless, giggling and joking at his dilemma. Miranda called him a ‘bitch’, a ‘tart’ and a ‘piece of pink fluff’. She mocked his ‘pathetic little tits’. Terry looked more and more distressed. His poise and elegance were vanishing fast. I watched, enjoying his discomfort, but also concerned at Miranda’s constant bullying. And I realised more and more how much I loved Terry. We had such a long history together, right back to the days we played in mother’s furs together as little children.
After a few minutes, Terry pleaded for Miranda to stop by grunting and looking at her with watery eyes. But she ignored him, laughing and gesturing, saying, ‘No, no, this is only the start. Look what we have here.’ And Miranda, to my amazement, produced a barber’s razor. ‘Let’s make Terry into the girl he wants to be,’ she squealed, waving the weapon with evident delight and malice. ‘Let’s castrate the bitch.’ I started feeling very panicky. I truly did not want to hurt Terry. I wanted to scare him, sure, but not damage him. I sensed Miranda was in her own world again, one where she could as easily hurt me as Terry. I decided to act. I pushed Miranda away and told her to keep still. I slowly removed the tape and vibrator. I released the tension on the leather tie. I unhinged the ankle restraints and unfastened the locks. I undid the handcuffs and removed the gag. I said nothing till I had finished.
Miranda looked aghast, but did not try to stop me. ‘Why have you done that? What the hell’s going on?’ ‘I’ll tell you what’s going on, Miranda. I don’t want to hurt Terry any more. And do you know why? Because I love him. I love him for who he is. And do you know what, he is not my brother and never has been.’ I turned to look at Terry.
“Terry, before I came here Mother told me what she should have told me, and you, years ago. I’m an adopted child. I’m not your sister, in the real sense. And I can now make sense of my feelings for you and not feel guilty. And I want to be your friend. I do love you, you know.’
Terry meanwhile looked pained and relieved. I think he found it impossible to comprehend at that moment. He smiled weekly at me and glared at Miranda. Miranda looked set to kill. I stood before them both, wrapping the mink about me to give me more strength. And I needed it too, for at that moment, without warning, Aunt Louise walked into the room and the three of us must have looked as shocked as she did. I just froze. Miranda giggled. Terry turned and stared at Louise. I sensed along night of explanation and reconciliation was in store. Probably some tears and possibly some joy.
This was going to be the start of a new chapter – in all our lives. Everything would change. But the furs would be there as always, as ever.