The first time I tried a fox cum marinade bath, I really couldn't get into the yiffy femboi mindset. I did half as a joke, half out of curiosity. Even though I wasn't quite there yet emotionally, though, there was something strangely comforting about being engulfed in such a savory sauce. I felt at peace, and I think that scared me. Afterwards I felt... different. Changed, somehow.
I tried not to think about it but I just couldn't get that tangy white sauce out of my mind. It was the worst in the evenings, after particularily long, stressful days. I found myself longing for the comfort of a cum bath almost every minute of the day. I was spending hundreds of dollars on Bad Dragon a day to fulfill my needs but it didn't matter, money could not get in the way of me and my addiction. I started to realise that I had been living a lie my whole life. I was not the man I thought I was. No, I was not a man at all. I was a femboi fox, the sluttiest of my kind. These thoughts gave me peace, knowing I was handcrafted with trash and degeneration, floofed to perfection and perfectly bulgy. I began to realize that I had a purpose, a feeling I had never felt before. These feelings filled me and I felt a wholeness I had never thought possible, I was becoming who I had always meant to be. Not become, I WAS. I was and would forever be, the sluttiest fox.
Though I had come to this realization, it had not occurred to me the struggle for acceptance I would face. At work, customers complained of my aroma, judgemental of the musky husky scent I exuded. My skin began to grow fur, nourished by my protector, my home. I began sleeping in the fox cum, spending every waking minute waiting for the moment I could go back to my rightful place within it.
This continued for some time, until I was faced with an ultimatum. By now my boss had noted a decline in my performance. Upon noticing my sticky hands, lack of concentration, and now orange fur, he gave me a choice. See a doctor or lose my job. I was immediately alarmed. How could I afford the many gallons of cum I used each day if I did not have a job? I had to see a doctor, afterall nothing was really WRONG with me. The pruning would go away, or become easier to manage. It was early in my transformation, I would grow into this new form, just as I had learned to walk.
At the doctors, it was impressed upon me that the issue was not physical, rather mental. I was told I had a rare psychological condition, somewhere between body dismorphia and psychosis. Although I was reluctant, I was given a prescription which I was told to take every single day, religiously. I was warned that the side effects of quitting unexpectedly would be catasrophic, so I heeded doctors orders and took my medication. For a long time things were alright. Not the same on-top-of-the-world, ultimate sense of being I was experiencing before, but they were alright. I was told that the meds were necessary, so I blindly obeyed. I went back to work, my skin returned its baldness, though the world seemed grey. I began going on dates, finding comfort in the companionship of women and men. I found I could almost feel the warmth I felt covered in the fox cum just as I climaxed, but it was a short and fleeting feeling, and never quite as strong as the utter perfection I felt with my forbidden lover.
I finally broke, late one night, after a girl I had been seeing found some old pictures I had taken of me in the tub. She looked scared, confused. I knew she didn't understand my love for the sauce the moment I saw that look on her face. I knew she would never accept me for the slutty femboi that I was. When I saw that look, my feelings for her changed completely. How could I have been such a fool, falling for a biggot when the only true love I ever needed was waiting so patiently to accept me once more, cover me and love me with a warmth only a starving furry artist could afford. She left, and in a moment of clarity I emptied the contents of my secret cum stash into the tub and flushed the remainder of my perscription down the toilet.
As I let the goopy, loving semen blanket envelope me, I felt shame. It didn't take long for that shame to be washed away, however, and replaced only with feelings of comfort and joy. It didn't matter to me what the world saw, as long as I knew in my heart that I was the sluttiest femboi I could be and that I was doing my best. In the face of alversity, I could rise above the hate and discrimination, as long as I had my comforting musky haven to retreat to. That was all that mattered now, that was all that would ever matter again. I had become one with the cum, the lifeblood in which to soak myself in, which kept my foxy self furry and sticky and, above all, slutty.
DarkRP 
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