Outfox Stories: stories to read and AI adventures to play, no account needed
-
Chapter by
ArtificialFox · 03 Sep 2026 -
Derek's friend Jordan lends him their female genitals for the night.
-
Two in the morning, Saturday. Door shut. Lamp on.
Derek sat on the edge of his bed with his own equipment back where it belonged and Jordan's on the desk beside him, on a folded towel, where they'd left it earlier with a note that said sorry about Thursday and a smiley face that had taken them, he suspected, several attempts.
He hadn't touched it yet. He'd been looking at it for ten minutes.
It didn't look like much, detached. That was the first thing. Attached, on Jordan, on him, it had been a whole region — heat, pressure, the soft weight of the outer lips against his thighs, an inward-facing warmth that changed when he shifted his weight. On the towel it was a small pale shape with the seam-line around the edge, neat as a hem, the slit closed and quiet, and it was nothing. It wasn't asleep. It wasn't waiting. It was a part with no owner, reporting to nobody, and nobody in the world could have told you what it felt like right now, because right now it didn't feel like anything to anyone.
He put a finger on it. Cool. Softer than he'd expected. It gave, the way skin gives, and stopped, and that was all. He pressed a little harder, dragging the finger down the closed slit, feeling the shape of it through the skin, the slight ridges, the plumpness of it, and it didn't react, because there was nothing in it to react with. He spread the outer lips with two fingers, just to look, the way you'd open a locked car you didn't own. Pink and folded and utterly vacant. He let it close again.
His own, meanwhile, had opinions.
It had had opinions since Thursday, to be honest — some residue of the whole night, of the couch and the stairs and the pea sitting up to take an interest in a conversation it should have stayed out of. He was hard. He'd been hard on and off for two days, and tonight he'd given up on ignoring it, and now he was hard in the old familiar way, the way he'd been hard ten thousand times: a full, heavy, straightforward hardness, a length of him standing up from his lap, the head dark and tight and shining a little in the lamplight, pulsing with his heartbeat. He'd been stroking himself …
This content is age-restricted
Sign up to verify your age.
No more chapters.
More like this
Colm's party splits one silver a month. So when he overhears about a dungeon nobody's logged yet, he doesn't wait for the rest of his crew. He grabs the party healer, Agnes, burns their emergency teleport scroll, and goes in.
They come out with more gold than any of them have ever seen. Agnes comes out a little different.
She cooks better now. She's friendlier, too. Much friendlier. And there's something purple living in her that's been sealed in a box for a thousand years and is very, very bored.
Aldous was an alchemist once. And after relentless experiments he's now a colony of slugs who can wear anyone he likes, and he's decided Colm is the closest thing he has to a friend. He's promised to let his hosts keep control most of the time.
He's lying.
The clerk counted my pay out one coin at a time, slowly, like each one hurt her personally.
“Eleven copper,” she said.
“The posting said fifteen.”
“The farmer docked you four. For the hat.”
“The goat ate my hat.”
“He says it gave her a stomachache.”
The farmer told us she was a very special goat. He made us walk ten steps behind her the whole way so she wouldn't get nervous. She was not nervous. She ate my hat, and then, apparently, she charged me for it.
I scooped the coin…
They come out with more gold than any of them have ever seen. Agnes comes out a little different.
She cooks better now. She's friendlier, too. Much friendlier. And there's something purple living in her that's been sealed in a box for a thousand years and is very, very bored.
Aldous was an alchemist once. And after relentless experiments he's now a colony of slugs who can wear anyone he likes, and he's decided Colm is the closest thing he has to a friend. He's promised to let his hosts keep control most of the time.
He's lying.
The clerk counted my pay out one coin at a time, slowly, like each one hurt her personally.
“Eleven copper,” she said.
“The posting said fifteen.”
“The farmer docked you four. For the hat.”
“The goat ate my hat.”
“He says it gave her a stomachache.”
The farmer told us she was a very special goat. He made us walk ten steps behind her the whole way so she wouldn't get nervous. She was not nervous. She ate my hat, and then, apparently, she charged me for it.
I scooped the coin…