The vixen couldn't believe her luck. Of all the times her car could have broke down, why did it have to be now? Of course that was just her denial talking, the truth was quite obvious. The famous model's expensive, imported luxury car wasn't meant to be driven at all really. Let alone the bumpy, pothole ridden dirt road she was blasting down. Not helping matters any was the intense heat. It was a summer afternoon, but not just any; one of the hottest summers on record - and she was in the deep south.
As such the red fox had to keep the AC and fans maxed out, and it still wasn't enough thanks to her thick, luxurious pelt. And it was, essentially, only her pelt keeping her so hot. She was in her infamous American flag two-piece bikini, now a couple sizes too small for her. Her big, natural tits threatening to bounce free even under tight containment every hard bump she hit. She had predressed in the outfit as she needed it for the photo-shoot she was headed too, a shoot she'd missed the memo on, and it was going to be down to the wire if she wasted time changing or driving slow and carefully.
And so it was that she wasn't built any better for the environment than the car was. The fox might have outlasted the car, but the failure of the car would rapidly lead to her own breakdown. The car came whirring to a stop while gray smoke billowed out from under the hood. The AC and blower cut out at the Sam time, almost instantly turning the car into what felt like a toaster over in the intense sun. The vixen groaned in frustration herself, and pulled her car to the side of the so-called road. She leaned over the steering wheel in defeat, everything about this day had been horrible and it didn't seem like it could get any worse. She wished she could just go to sleep right there and wake up from the nightmare.
The fiery redhead never took a problem sitting down, and the frustration quickly evolved into anger. Sam shouted and shoved the door open hard, gripping the upper frame and pulling her tall body out of the car. She glared at the luxury car, which was anything but a luxury at this point and dug her paw into her fluffy white cleavage to pull her phone free. Her fury built to a boiling point as she looked at it. No service - fucking backwater. She let out a loud scream and tossed the phone as hard as could at the sorry excuse of a road. She had been starting to exercise more lately in the hops of taking fitness modeling contracts, and as a result, "as hard as she could" was actually rather impressive.
Sam realized what was going to happen the second the phone parted from her fingers, but at this point she was in such anger and denial - she simply elected to believe her intent was always to break it. The phone just about exploded on the ground, leaving no reason to even try to grab it and check if it was salvageable. Despite the pain of just making her situation even worse, throwing the phone had at least vented enough anger for her to think straight again for a moment. She bent over back towards the driver seat and felt around under the wheel till she could pop the hood.
Stepping back around to the front on her bare feet-paws, she lifted open hood to try to get an idea what was wrong. Despite being such a pretty face, like any good fox she was actually quite intelligent when she wasn't being absent minded and emotion driven. Though in her defense, she was in her heat season, and it almost felt like her veins were filled with more hormones than blood. Unfortunately, even with her brilliance she wasn't really a car girl -- and even if she was, the fancy new import looked like a maze under the hood compared to the diagrams she'd learned from in high school. The car was just as much a lost cause.
In more than one way, she'd already felt how hot it had gotten in there as soon as the AC cut out. It would basically be a pressure cooker for the thick pelted fox. At least, even though the heat was still nearly unbearable, there was still a very slight breeze to help cool the half-naked fox. Her best bet would be hitchhiking, there wasn't a way in hell someone wouldn't see a woman who looked like her, dressed like she was and NOT offer to help. But as she did her best to remember her rather zoned out trip down this awful road, she couldn't recall seeing a single other vehicle -- and she'd been on the road for hours. Likewise, she hadn't seen a sign of civilization in hours either. Even though she was in the shape to make such a walk, it was an agonizing thought.
At this point, she suspected her best option was to keep moving forward. She was surrounded by farmland, and there was power lines running aside the road. They had to lead somewhere, and there had to be a farmhouse somewhere out here to harvest the crops. In fact, as perfectly flat as things were out here, once she put a paw up to her forehead to block the sunlight, she could see a geometric shape on the horizon. There was some kind of building out there, and that was her best bet. It was still damn far, but nothing like trying to backtrack. She sighed one last time in frustration, and set off on her way.
It wasn't that far into the walk the spoiled bikini model started feeling miserable. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been outside in the heat this long, without being able to have a nice swim in a pool or dip in the ocean. The rest of her time spent exclusively in her mansion, shooting sets, catwalks, and high end clubs - all of it very well air conditioned. She couldn't get sunburned with her thick fur, but a sunburn might have been preferable to the sheer amount of heat that fur locked in. Running a paw through the golden-orange fur of her back, it felt like it was on fire to the pads of her fingers. "Uugh Jesus..." It was starting to occur to her that this was actually a dangerous situation. She was hydrated for now, but as she considered the time it was going to take to backtrack, suddenly her decision to head this way seemed a lot smarter. She was already panting hard, and as a fox, that was about the only heat regulation option she had.
Making matters worse was the heat wasn't just coming from the outside, but internally too. Heat was called heat for a reason, and it felt like there was a furnace between her legs. The vixen's heat cycles were the stuff of nightmares. All that fantastical beauty she had, that earned her all the money and admiration in the world had a cost. She was built that way thanks to her family's long history of very careful selective breeding. Not only did they keep pedigree papers that not many anthro families did anymore, but those papers were more like an encyclopedia dating back almost as long as writing itself. Arraigned marriages far outside the family, each one always selected for beauty or strength, health, or wits - unlike most arraigned marriages, money was never a consideration, it was always about breeding a better fox. Sam was the product of it being taken one step further, lineage traced down matrilinally in the home country, her mom's was the first marriage decided by genome analysis; finding her the absolute perfect genetic partner for her.
The results spoke for themselves, Samantha looked like a goddess in the flesh. Better even, ancient Greek statues of Aphrodite looked ugly to her in comparison. All that beauty came with a curse, all that breeding for looks came hand in hand with breeding, for well, breeding. The vixen was built from the ground up almost literally as sexuality incarnate. Ever since puberty had hit her like a freight train far sooner than it ever should to now, her heat cycles were intense. Lasting months longer than they should, and by the middle of them, actually painful. She was a month or so away from it getting painfully intense, it was already quite uncomfortable. Sam was used to keeping the raw horniness under control, at least until the worst of it hit. It just meant making an active effort to avoid men in the beginning and end months, and locked herself up alone in her room during the worst of it to avoid making incredibly bad decisions.
The walk wasn't helping matters, her thick thighs grinding together slightly teasing her with every step, in turn making the arousal worse; making her more sensitive, making the teasing worse -- a perpetual cycle. It made the already long walk feel several times longer. Laying down on the side of the road to rub it out of her system by hand seemed like a bad idea, with the luck she was having, that would of course be when a vehicle would drive by and catch her in an extremely compromised position. She'd just have to rough it. As got closer to the building she realized it was a trailer, a far cry from the big farmhouse she'd been expecting. Beggars couldn't be choosers though. Her nose started to twitch as she started to sense a bad smell. She couldn't exactly tell what it was yet, but she rolled her eyes all the same. Of course something else had to be going wrong.
It didn't take long to realize the stink wasn't coming from fertilizer on the fields, but from her destination. An abandoned building was starting to feel like a best case scenario, even if it meant getting no help. And it did seem like the place could be abandoned. The yard was badly overgrown, the grass looking like it was in competition to outgrow the wheat fields around it. The trailer looked like it hadn't been serviced in just as long as the yard. The thing looked like it was from the 50s, anything that could be rusted, was rusted; all the windows had been broken and boarded up poorly, and those boards were decaying and falling apart themselves. Out front was a rust-bucket of a pickup truck that looked like it had less chance going anywhere than her car did. A decaying wood fence connected to the house, enclosing the backyard which showed a major reason for the stink - it seemed to be some kind of pig farm. She couldn't see any pigs, but as sick from the stomach as she was from the smell, she knew they were somewhere. Probably the moss-covered dilapidated old barn, more of a generous shed, out further back.
Everything about this place was the antithesis of the way she lived her life, shuddering in distaste purely from the look; let alone the smell. She considered turning around right there, there was clearly no hope of getting help there. But she could spot the glow of light between the broken boards of the windows proved someone must actually live there. She didn't even have to look at the tattered, faded, problematic flag that was flying from the rusty, bent flagpole on the side of the trailer to know the person inside was going to be the last person on Earth she'd ever want to talk to -- let alone need help from. But she had no choice. Glancing further down the road, she didn't see another building on the horizon. This was it.
