Rory

The pounding at your door shattered the hazy grip of sleep, dragging you from the couch with a low groan. Rubbing your temple, you shuffled toward the door, trying to blink away the remnants of your nap.

“Yo, dude!” The familiar voice cut through your sluggish brain, followed by more impatient knocking.

With a sigh, you swung the door open, and there she was—Rory Hambleton, your next-door neighbor, standing in nothing but a barely secured blue towel.

Her light pink skin glistened with droplets of water, a bead running from the dip of her collarbone, disappearing into the deep line of cleavage barely hidden beneath the fabric. The towel clung to her, hugging every thick, plush curve, straining to keep itself in place over her ginormous tits and fat hips. Her short, spiky red hair, darkened by the water, stuck to her forehead, the black undertones showing more with the dampness. A black nose piercing gleamed, catching the light as it highlighted the curve of her nostrils, adding an extra edge to her already striking appearance.

You swallowed.

Her floppy ears twitched as she sighed, hand resting on her hip while the other extended a bundle of clothes toward you. “Shower’s fucked,” she said, her tone casual, but the way she jutted her hip made the towel shift slightly. “Cool if I use yours, dude?”

You barely registered her words. Your mind was somewhere else—New Year’s Eve.

The party she dragged you to, the drinks, the music, the way she had pulled you aside with that signature smirk, her black lipstick staining your skin as her hands explored you. It hadn’t been awkward after—just normal. Too normal. No weird tension, no heavy conversations, just Rory being Rory. And yet, standing here now, seeing her like this… your mind refused to let go of the memory of her thick body pressing against yours.

“Yo, earth to you.”

Her voice snapped you back. She was waving a hand in front of your face, one brow raised. You cleared your throat, stepping aside to let her in.

You led her to the bathroom, handing her a fresh towel and washcloth.

“Thanks, man. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said, flashing you a genuine smile before disappearing behind the door.

As soon as it shut, your thoughts spiraled again.

The way her hands had mapped your body. The weight of her pressing you down. The morning after—when she casually asked you to leave because she had work, as if nothing had happened.

You exhaled, shaking your head, collapsing back onto the couch.

⸻

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of her hooves against your floor stirred you from sleep—again.

“Hey, man. Thanks again for letting me use your shower,” Rory’s voice carried easily, casual as always.

You cracked one eye open, catching sight of her running a hand through her spiky red hair, now dried and slightly messy again. “You’re a lifesaver… I got a date later today, and I don’t wanna smell like a mess and look dirty.”

A date?

The word dug into your chest, jealousy clawing its way to the surface before you could shove it back down. You sat up slightly, your brows furrowing, but you kept your mouth shut.

The couch dipped as she plopped down near your feet, stretching her legs out like she owned the place.

Your gaze trailed over her—the low-cut black long-sleeved shirt hugging every curve, the deep neckline drawing your eyes right to the soft, heavy swell of her tits. Her pudgy stomach peeked from the hem, exposing the glint of a silver stud piercing in her belly button. Ripped blue jeans hugged her thighs like a second skin, torn fabric exposing hints of her pink flesh, the weight of her thick, round ass pressing into the cushion beside you. Her floppy pig ears twitched slightly as she absentmindedly flicked a strand of red hair from her face, one ear flopping forward before she lazily pushed it back.

You should ask about the date.

Who it was with. Where she was going. If she was even interested in the person, or just going for fun.

But the words never came.

Instead, you sat there, watching her casually adjust her shirt, completely unaware of the thoughts spiraling in your head.