Izzy wakes up, and she feels pleasantly squished in the middle of a Jacob Cane sandwich. She looks back with a smile at the two sleeping soundly. She fumbles her way into the bathroom and sits on the toilet. She flicks through her phone. The usual nothing of interest.

  A short video about crop circles and how they are made by bored college professors who want to impress college girls. Another about Bigfoot spotted in Vermont; the natives are concerned about how it will affect property taxes. She scrolls down through and stops on one about the bizarre world of the furries; she ughs thinking about Cane pretending to be one. She shuts her phone off. It's all just noise.

  There was a time when the phone was the center of her world. Now she only half remembers it exists. She pees and thinks about st night. “My first threesome,” she mumbles sleepily, feeling a warm giddiness in her stomach.

  She rubs her belly, and cum flows out of her. She wipes up the best she can; however, a slow drip of cum trickles out of her. She pulls out a pad from the pack next to the toilet and cringes at how loud the wrapper is, then, without ceremony, she puts the maxi pad in her panties.

  She looks at herself in the mirror when she stands up and thinks she should be feeling regrets, but instead she just feels slightly sticky. “No one should ever bring a bck light near me ever again,” she says to the mirror version of herself, then half-heartedly ughs, tiredness creeping back upon her.

  She stands in the doorway looking back at the bed, the clothes thrown around the room and on the bed, her boyfriend and her. She looks to see where Cane went and instead sees a rge animal, a wolf. A blond wolf? ‘Did anyone see that coming? I didn't,’ she thinks to herself. The wolf's back pressed tightly to Jacob's back like they are best friends. She snaps a photo before walking over and petting The Wolf's head. “You're a good wolf person,” she says, then climbs into bed. She lifts the bnket off them and turns sideways and wiggles her way into pce between. both people groaning and making sounds of displeasure as they are forced to move. She sighs in contentment. Covered, filled, and full of cum, surrounded by people who want her, she passes out.

  She wakes for a moment as a deep thought hits her like a pile of bricks: ‘I might just be kinky now,’ she realizes as she falls asleep.

  The next morning, Izzy wakes up to a soaked maxi pad. She gets up on one elbow and looks around for Cane in any of his forms, but he is gone. She gives Jacob a kiss on the forehead as she stretches and heads into the bathroom. She looks at herself in the mirror and ughs at how thick the pad looks but grateful not to have to deal with gross sheets. “He might as well have bought me diapers.” She uses the toilet, throwing away the pad with the distinctive sound of the adhesive peeling off.

  She gets into the shower. Turning it to hot and high pressure, 'Yeah, to wash away your sins, you pervert, her inner angel says. while the inner demon ughs hysterically. puts on a clean pad in a clean pair of red panties. She suspects that there won't be more coming out but would rather not have the embarrassment.

  She digs in her dwindling clean clothes pile and puts on a red push-up bra as she looks at herself in the mirror. “You’re hot,” she whispers. Then a pair of bck leggings with a bck mini skirt and an off-the-shoulder red sweater. She does her hair up in a bun and then looks in the mirror again, feeling confident.

  She walks back into the bedroom to the sleeping Jacob and rubs his hair gently. He shifts and snuggles her hand to his face. She kisses him on the forehead again, pulling her hand away. “Love you too,” she whispers before heading out the door.

  She wanders down to the bar, and the cat grins at her, "French toast with maple whip and caramelized banana with sausage and eggs." The cat says, “Everything a vixen needs.”

  She nods hungrily and sits at the now-familiar bar. "I had a good time at Macpherson's st night," she yells after him as he goes into the kitchen.

  "I had no idea you liked to go bowling," the cat smiles. As he walks back into the room in less than 20 seconds, ‘How does he do that?’ she excims in her head. He pces the complex meal, hot and ready to eat, in front of her.

  "I used to enjoy bowling, but once the rules were formalized, they took all the fun out." He grins, standing back straight. "The 1880s were a wonderful time to be a bowler.”

  The breakfast was rge, and she felt stuffed afterward. The exertions of st night left her hungry. "Have you seen Cane today?" she asks, part of her wishing he was there next to her.

  "No, why? Why were you lying with the dogs? You know what they say: lie with dogs and you get fleas." He grins at her and blinks slowly.

  She flings a piece of toast at him. It arches through the air, and he grabs it between two fingers casually. "Someone is touchy today." He grins at her again. "Throw eggs this time; I need my protein."

  "You can always go to the other bathroom if you need protein." She does her best to imitate his cheesy, toothy smile.

  He brushes it off. “What's your pn for the day, Izzy? Going to find something else to seduce?” he muses, looking at his fingernails.

  “What's your pn for not being an annoying cat thing?” She fires back, but it was a dud, and she knew it.

  "You're funny. It's supposed to be beautiful outside. Why don't you spend some time at the pool?" the cat motions towards the back of the motel.

  "Why haven't I spent any time at the pool yet? Oh, I don't have a bathing suit," she thinks about the cute one-piece she used to wear when she went swimming in the river near her childhood home. Then she thinks about it again. It was old and faded from age, meant for someone with half the cup size as her. ‘Ooph, I am far too young to be feeling so old,’ she groans to herself.

  "You could also hang out at the pool naked," the cat says as casually as if he said, "Would you like butter on your toast?” And at the same time makes the hand gestures of a woman's curves. “I don't think the guests would mind.

  "Don't do that, it's creepy, isn't there somewhere I can shop around here that might have women's clothes?" she asks, looking around. She spots the fmingo walking out of the bathroom hallway. As the sound of a toilet flushing is heard in the distance, he stops and stares at Izzy before he turns and walks into the lobby.

  "Oh, you can go to Jim Gas he might have something; he has a bit of everything," the bartender says, “not to mention they have good ice cream.