Prompt: > (You) are waking up hangover from a party and find that a raccoon/opossum waifur got into your house because you forgot to close your windows Anon peeled his eyelids apart, and saw the room spinning above him. Lovely. He was still drunk. He hacked out a dehydrated cough and lurched upward. His arm was covered in mysterious bruises from the night before. He reached out, trying to find the bottle of water he'd left beside the bed. He rammed one of the bruises into the corner of the table. "Fuck!" The tequila-sodden degenerate lay back down feeling sorry for himself. 3:57pm, blinked the clock beside his bed. God. Someone must have racked him a line of speed last night, for him to feel this awful and wake this late. How had he even gotten home? He slowly levered his body upright using the head of his bed, downed the entire bottle of water, pulled out his laptop, and began the laborious process of shitposting. Time to get banned from /a/ again. --- It was well after 7pm when he emerged from his bedroom, driven by a full bladder and empty stomach. He walked past the tipped over garbage can in the kitchen and groaned. Great. Cleanup. He'd ignore it until after he'd taken a piss. He didn't bother shutting the door, letting a steady stream loose at the porcelain. Zipping up his fly, he staggered to the fridge and opened the door. "Nothing here," he groaned. "No, see, you've got cheese and mustard, you can do a toastie," said a voice from behind him. Anon scowled. "Well, if I had bread, I- Wait, what?" Who the hell was that? His heart sped up to a staccato thumping, pumping blood and adrenaline through his alcohol-stream. Fight or flight, that was what they called it. He turned slowly, looking at the floor from sheer cowardice, expecting to see some monstrous creature straight from a horror movie. Slowly his eyes raised. Below his kitchen table dangled floppy leather shoes with the sole falling off. Moving up. Grease-stained baggy cargo pants, a black and grey tail poking out from behind them. Surprisingly wide hips for a home invader. White t-shirt with mustard stains on it, khaki milsurp jacket. A fingerless glove, with... painted nails poking out? Definite breasts, small but unrestrained by any bra. Anon squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temples. Something soft and spongy hit him in the face. "Want some wonderbread, dude? It's good! They were throwing it out behind the supermarket, can you believe it? Fucking capitalist pigs, man." "Who-" "Oh, sorry! Rhetta! Pleased to meetcha!" A racoon. In his kitchen. Sitting on the table. A quite attractive racoon, on the short and skinny side of normal, dressed like a homeless anarchist snowboarder. He must have left a window open. "You mind if I smoke up?" She pulled out a cigarette lighter and a big fat joint, lit it while he gaped at her, and offered it. Gears in his head ground and skipped. His brain gave up on evaluating the situation, and went with the tried and true tactic of accepting free weed. He reached out, fingers touching paper dampened by her lips; inhaled, and let it settle; finally breathed out. "Fuck it," he said, "want to make toasties?" --- He was a surgeon, and the patient was under his care. This was make or break time. One wrong move could spell disaster. "Nurse! Scalpel!" Rhetta passed him a kitchen knife, giggling. He giggled back. God, she was funny. So was he. Everything was funny. He very carefully and very slowly carved off a sliver of cheese to add to the pile. Rhetta moved through the kitchen opening cupboards at random, until she turned around, holding up a big frying pan with arms opened in triumph. "Careful, Alex Jones turned a frog gay with one of these," she warned as she handed it over. He grabbed it and turned to the hotplate, before realising. A frog! He doubled over laughing. This was A-grade comedy material. From behind him, he felt her whole body press into his back. Her arms wrapped around his body. She didn't smell like a dumpster; despite her appearance, she smelled like vanilla beans, weed, freshly laundered clothing, and just a hint of salty female body. He could feel her breasts pressed against his lower back, and her tummy on his buttocks. Enhanced by the weed, the body contact felt more than good: he was simultaneously relaxed, energised, confused, and just a little bit turned on. "Dude, I've got the munchies, put it on!" She guided the pan to the stove, hands on his arms. He winced. "Oh, sorry dude! Give me a look at that." With a gentle but firm tug she dragged him over to the table, and pulled out a mysterious bottle. "Sit". He obediently sat. She daubed pink ointment onto his bruises. "Calamine lotion, been used since 1500BC by the Egyptians, it's organic and natural-" she explained. Anon was pretty sure it came from a rock, but didn't have the courage to interrupt. "-just get this on your arm, draw out the foul humours, recapitulate your aura and chakra." "You mean chakras?" "What, you got more than one? Grooosssss." She laughed, and walked back to the bench, then started putting together a pair of toasties. Anon stood up and did the same. Cheese, mustard, elderly black olives, minced garlic, pepper, the flavour packet from some two minute noodles: nothing was safe. Laugh at the ingredients. Flip an outsized puck of butter into the pan. Just go with it, dude. Turn the toasties. Nice and golden, now. Plate it up. Add an artistic mustard streak for comedic value. Dab a bit of mustard onto Rhetta's nose. Laugh at her licking it off. Don't ask why the hell she's in your house. Simple. --- Anon grabbed a blanket. You had to have a blankie. They flopped down on the couch together. "You good with fail compilations?" he asked. She slapped the back of his hand and laughed. "Yeah man. Hook us up." After ten minutes of nutshots and poor life choices, Rhetta made her move, and stole the blanket. Anon yanked it back. After a brief tug of war, she compromised by sitting in his lap to let the blanket cover them both. Another ten minutes of abysmal bike riding skill, shoddy rope swings, and slippery wedding venue floors. Rhetta half-turned her head. "Soooo..." "So." "So you piss with the door open-" "Look, sorry, I didn't know you were here," why was he apologising for this? "-and I took a quick look, dude." "Uh." "Gimme that dick!" and she turned around and reached for it, laughing maniacally. Anon cupped his hands over his groin. Rhetta opened an offensive on the flanks by poking her fingers into his kidneys, two on each side. Anon collapsed in ticklish laughter, grabbing her wrists. She rolled him over then pushed him off the couch. Anon yanked her down as well, and she squawked as she fell on top of him. He still had her by the wrists, so he drew her arms upward, and pushed his knee into her. She slid forward so her crotch was resting on his thigh, the sneak, and ran herself down it towards him, trying to pull her hands towards his sides again while not-so-subtly grinding on his leg. He flipped her over, regaining the initiative, as she laughed at him. Little did she know, Anon had a cunning plan. Drop her left arm, switch her right to his left. Misdirect a little with his leg. There: her right armpit. Anon scritched her underarm through her shirt. She giggled and writhed underneath him. "Hehehahahaha- you bas- hahahaha- bastard!" He didn't stop. Her hand had crept up under his shirt, and twisted. "Nipple cripple!" This demanded a response. One hand went to her sides, one to her collarbone. "Gotcha!" She convulsed into him, pelvis grinding down hard on his knee, starting to pant. Now she had two hands free, she used both to grab Anon's, and guided it down until his fingertips were tucked just under the elastic of her panties. He moved four fingers down, parting just to either side of her nub, and stroking along her labia. Index and forefinger dripping, he traced a circle that never quite touched her most sensitive part. She groaned, "C'mon dude, don't leave me hanging!" He slipped a finger into her slit, testing the waters, then out again. In and out a few times, eventually sinking up to the knuckle. She parted to let him in, and he upped the ante to two fingers. Her fingers grasped desperately for his fly, pulling at his cock through the fabric of his jeans. As he made a come hither motion, pressing against her inner walls, she finally freed his manhood. Her left hand moved back and forward along his shaft. She put her right hand to her face, moistened it with her lips, and nestled his knob warm and tight in the pads of her palm. Seconds more of this, and she gasped and shuddered into his fingers, clasping her dripping legs together around his arm. Rhetta rode the climax out on Anon's hand, eyes squeezed shut. She lost control of her body for a moment, then shifted back in action again. The racoon girl knelt and pushed Anon up onto the couch. "BJ time!" She cupped his balls with one hand and got a good firm grip on his leg with the other, then ran her tongue all the way up from base to tip. Teased his sensitive head for a little while, then engulfed it, pressing her tongue upward into the roof of her muzzle to massage him from both sides. For a short while, she rocked her head back and forth. Staring up with liquid brown eyes surrounded by black fur, as she pleasured him. Eventually she popped his knob out, affectionately licked off a drop of precum, then stood. "It's your- it's your turn, again," Anon guessed, out of breath. "Yep!" she nodded. She pushed Anon down onto the cushions, then straddled him. Holding the tip of his cock steady, she pushed her nether lips down on his shaft, then slowly ran herself along it. Back and forth, her pleasure rising again, his impatience mounting as she denied him entry. She leant forward, putting her clit in direct contact with his outer skin. She bit her lip at the intensity, and backed off again. He looked up at her. Furred thighs pressed against his sides. She reached her hand out to his chest to steady herself, rhythmic motions increasing. Her muzzle opened a little bit. Her back arched slightly. He could see her growing a little flushed, under the fur. Back and forth, back and forth. Anon brought his hands to her hips, trying to encourage her. Her grey fur felt soft against his palms, but her moistness continued its glide without speeding up. How long was he going to wait? Back and forth, warm and wet, but promising so much more. Was she smirking? Rhetta winked at him. Ok, fuck this. Anon growled and flipped her on her back, down on the couch. Her cunt quivered ready for him, and her hands pulled her thighs back, holding herself open. She put one hand out, desperately scrabbling to guide him in as he mating pressed her. First thrust, forceful and deep, she let out a chirping moan. Thrust, moan, thrust, moan. His hand grabbed the sensitive base of her tail for leverage, felt her squirm and push into his touch in response. He pulled a little harder, scritched at her lower back, and the chirping moan escaped again, louder this time. Push all the way into her. Tighten the grip right as he hits the deepest depths inside. Feel her squeeze in union with him. Feel her tail twitch and flick under his balls and against his calves as he fucked her. Pounding faster and faster now. Her legs spasmed under him, as she reached the second cumming. In and out a few more times, and then the feeling of her pussy massaging his rock-hard dick was too much. He felt the initial barrage of cum shooting into her like hot ropes of life force, and her legs clamped shut around him as another wave hit. He thrust again, deep, and felt it dripping out of her all along his shaft. She unfolded to lie beside him, and they stayed savouring the afterglow for a perfect moment, breathing together. Anon's member popped free. A little pool was forming under her buttocks. He cupped her breasts with lazy post-coital affection, and she kissed his arm and fondled him. --- "So why'd you come by?" he asked. "Oh, I'm your landlord. You left your window open in the snow, so I thought there might have been a break-in." Well, fuck.