Textile Negotiation Satin Gloves

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

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Dai sighed, tapping his fingers on the kitchen table, the wooden seat opposite him pulled out already as if to offer to a visitor. And yet the visitors that he was expecting (did they count, really, as one or as two?) did not need a seat at all, if even the table, to conduct any sort of their business.

It was a familiar environment to the bunny, the little house that he called his own, a staircase leading up from the living room and a small but comfortable kitchen combined with a diner. He didn't need much in that regard, being out and about as much as he was, and the only thing that the brown-furred rabbit collected for himself was, well...the gloves. And it was the gloves themselves that seemed to have taken it upon themselves to change everything.

It had all been well and good until he'd brought that satin pair home, that very special hue of violet that should never have caught his eye so. He swallowed hard, although the lump remained in his throat, and he sweated anxiously. Things could have been so very different if he had left it at that, if he'd never followed the kinky, erotic experience home from that quirky little shop. It could have been left there without any further intervention but, alas, he had pushed his luck and wanted to see, wanted to try to find something more, as deluded as that was in the realm of hindsight.

But maybe he could figure them out now. Maybe Dai could suss just why the gloves came to life, why they wanted him as much as he wanted them too, jacking him off and using him for their pleasure, growing more and more lively with each time they took him. It was hardly non-consensual with how much he enjoyed it but even the experiences themselves left him with a heated sense of wrongness, unease churning in the pit of his stomach as he tossed and turned and tried to avoid crushing his long ears into the pillows in fit after fit of sleeplessness.

He had to know. And that was just why he made his way upstairs and reverently drew the purple satin gloves from the cupboard where he kept all of them, although he was quite sure that they could have all have found another home for themselves if they thought that their lodgings were no longer becoming of them. Laying the satin gloves that had started it all over his fingers reverently, he carried them with due care back to the kitchen table, laying them out before him.

And then...he waited, scratching the back of his neck. Just how was he supposed to start something like this? It had always been the gloves that had come to him so far...

"Um..."

No response, of course. Dai cringed. He'd have to be more eloquent than that. But what -- what could possibly live up to the expectations of the tenacious thrills and joys that those very gloves had brought him, leaving him moaning and squirming and panting through climax after climax? They had made his life a hundred times more interesting and he could never again go back, simply, to the way that things were, shedding the steel shackles of that kind of life for something vibrant and explosive in many more ways that only one.

He sighed. Yes, there was really only one way for it, even if it was going to leave him feeling rather stupid at the end of it.

Taking the gloves in hand, he held them as he would a lover's hands, interlocking his fingers between the soft folds of one, the digits loose and lacking in life. But that would all change soon as he murmured softly, eyes half-lidded with the words that could not be said out loud and yet, still, would have to come, as much as they made his skin itch with nerves, stomach turning over repeatedly. He brought one of them to his lips, brushing the tip of a finger in a kiss, whiskers tickling, as he sat and waited and, above all else, hoped.

And Dai was not to be found without hope as a shiver rippled through the gloves, the lines of light playing beautifully off the satin which also seemed to, rather miraculously, repel any semblance of dirt too that could have found itself on the fabric. No, they did not deserve in any such way to be so sullied and maybe they knew that too as they slowly inflated, taking shape and form on their own quite simply as if there was a pair of invisible hands or hands between them -- whatever term it was those days that furries preferred to use. He liked them both, using interchangeably.

Fluttering away from him, the gloves tucked from his fingers and bobbed, one clenching into a light fist with a finger extended, wagging at him: admonishing. Dai swallowed and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes -- well, what else was he supposed to do to awaken them from their clearly self-inflicted slumber? -- accepting it without comment. It was more than he could have expected from such a greeting, winging it as he went and taking every last shot well and truly in the dark.

"Um...hello," he said, fumbling over his words as they clung stickily to his tongue, loathe to be released into the air between them. "I'm...glad you came to see me here today. I have something that I want to talk to you about."

That seemed to surprise the gloves as they rippled back, held loosely as if they didn't quite know what poise or gesture would suit the moment best. Of course, the universal code for a shrug was easily shown even without the shoulders in the picture and they posed themselves with the palms up, the more tasteful evening mood lighting of the kitchen shimmering over the satin in tentative waves, fleeting in its beauty.

"Well... Okay, yes then."

There was no good way to start and he rubbed the back of his neck, striving to appear casual. And yet just what on earth at all could be considered casual about having any manner of conversation with a pair of gloves? He glanced at the kitchen window, looking out onto the small back garden, but there was no way that a neighbour could spot him even as the gloves floated back down to gently rest on the edge of the table, listening to him even without any appearance of ears. But that would have been even more disturbing if distinguishable human features had appeared on them, quite frankly...

"I'm not sure why you're here, besides the fact that I bought you," he started awkwardly, but he had to begin somewhere. "And you can't really be owned either -- you're just here. You could leave at any time and yet you don't. So... Why do you stay here?"

The gloves bounced, a little shudder beginning the motion, and appeared as surprised as a pair of gloves could possibly be for the little fluttering motions of the fingers reminded him of someone who was grasping 'thin air', quite literally', for an answer that eluded them. They paused for a moment, appearing to think, and eventually placed the palm of one flat, tilting it from side to side: not sure. The second glove curled into the typical gesture of 'thumbs up' with the thumb pointed to the ceiling.

Well, that was even more confusing than it had been to begin with! And yet the rabbit had to plough on, his curiosity prompting him to try even though everything was even more difficult than he could ever have initially expected.

"Alright... It's okay then, I guess, is what you mean. Does that sound right?"

The fingers of one pressed together into a bluntly tapered point and 'nodded' rapidly. Well, at least they could do 'yes' and 'no' questions to get going with. That was something at the very least.

"Would you like me to keep you somewhere else in the house? Somewhere that you can see more?"

The gloves considered the question and shook from left to right, a clear 'no'. Or as clear a negative response as Dai thought he was likely to get.

"Well...okay, I'm sure you will try to let me know if there's anything that you'd like to change, but I don't want to keep you here against your will, no... No, not at all. Do you want to leave?"

Another 'no', this time punctuated by the gloves 'leaping' up and bopping him on the nose, however light the motion was. He squeaked, muzzle wrinkling as he jerked back, if only slightly. The bobbing and fluttering that they produced, rocking and tensing alternatingly, could only be construed as laughter and Dai too allowed himself a rue if nervous sort of grin by way of reply.

"Alright, okay, I guess I deserved that one. I think that was obvious with how you jump me all time..."

For things had escalated more than only a couple of times and he groaned lightly in the back of his throat in recollection, the depth of emotion and stirring that accompanied the memory surprising even him. The brush of one of the gloves against his cheek surprised him then as he blushed and leaned into it without thinking, heart pounding far too hard to be at all comfortable, although the touch was unlike anything else. Without the lure of orgasm or any kind of sexual stimulation, he could enjoy the feel of them lightly rubbing against his fur, letting him guide just how much pressure there was, allowing him to simply be just as he was.

"Why did you come here?"

It was a question that no manner of charades could answer but the gloves tried -- oh, how they tried for him. There was a passion there that, truly, was untold and something that could never again be spoken of, so discreetly sweetly did it embody itself. They ran down his arms, smoothing his bare fur flat in the right direction, linking between his fingers as they clasped both of his hands at once, a fervent tension in the tightness of their fingers around and between his. However, that was one that he most certainly was not able to decipher and, briefly, Dai cursed inwardly the fact that he had never learned sign language when it had, before, been presented as an option to him. That may have made things easier but, then again, even he could not know just how much or how little the gloves actually knew. Questions could be asked but, so very often, the answers were not something that one little rabbit could glean any sort of meaning from.

"Okay..." He breathed, the gloves pressing tenderly against his lips as if to open his mouth. "I can't say on that one. But why are you still here? Where do you come from? And why do you move? How is any of this even possible? Can you tell me what happened to you?"

But he asked too many questions at once and the myriad of responses that they gave blurred into one another, the gloves rushing to reply. How could they answer such things without the eloquence of the silent communication of sign language, after all? One could only ask the question if they could understand the answer, to be fair.

And understanding the answer wasn't the half of it. Fingers spread out into a fan, they snapped closed and bobbed to the side, paddling as if swimming. But they moved on before Dai could even shake his head, conveying his distinct lack of comprehension, drawing shapes in the air with just a single fingertip that moved far, far too swiftly for his eye to keep up with. Making a face, he held up a hand, unknowingly speaking without words himself too for it felt a little more polite, and the gloves ramped up into overdrive, fluttering all over him, smoothing and caressing, stroking his whiskers. The sheer sensuality of it as he blushed and tried to shrink shyly back could not be missed by any stretch of the imagination and Dai whimpered softly as they ran down his stomach, resting on his thighs, the hint of a touch brushing his crotch.

Whether or not that in itself was deliberate or not was entirely up for debate as he grunted and tried to ask more, clearer, questions, wondering at where the gloves had come from, how they were magical and, the most important one still of all, just why they were there with him, what they wanted for him. He could not imagine even in his wildest dreams what a pair of duly magical gloves could possibly want from him, living his quiet, simple life, and they squeezed his hands tenderly, lending him to imagine a lover clasping him tightly, arousal stoked more than a little as he stuttered out his words, ears folding softly back down the length of his rabbit skull.

However, in the end, the gloves ultimately failed to convey their meaning in a parade of charades and eventually balled themselves up into tight fists of frustration even as he reached for them with all the compassion he could draw on, lips twisting in sympathy. The gloves rocked as if they were going to pull away but allowed the embrace, Dai's hands folding around them carefully, shielding them from harm even as he took efforts to not damage the satin in any manner, still seeing them as another fragile pair in his collection that required his utmost respect at all times.

Drawing their 'hands' into his own hands, he held them tightly, securely, letting them know that they had a place right there with him regardless of anything else, the answers that they could or could not give.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, sliding his gaze away as his cheeks tingled with a blush of shyness, embarrassment licking at his heels like the muzzle of a dog that desired attention from their master. "I can't understand you... Let me just ask one and we can work out the rest later -- maybe I can get you something to write with that won't damage or stain? But...why are you here? What do you need from me?"

That was one that the gloves knew the answer to, at least, even if they needed to enter another kind of charade entirely to make their meaning well enough known. They squeezed his crotch as if they were drawn there by an invisible thread, Dai's heart in his mouth. Not knowing what to do with his hands, he clenched the edge of the table and moaned as they caressed lightly, shooting up again all too soon to mime out a very clear explosion with their fingers, fluttering and dancing like violet fireworks. The wrists of the gloves even pulled into different shapes, not as long as evening gloves in the traditional sense but still with a little more length to them than day to day pairs, adding to the effect and Dai could not help but laugh in delight, clapping his hands despite the stir of arousal heating up in the pit of his belly.

"Oh!"

An exclamation of delight seemed to please them and they fluttered back down into his waiting hands as he held them, heart pounding as if he had really been watching fireworks.

"You want..." He tried not to say the word but it came out crudely anyway. "You want...me? My...uh...shaft?"

Well, that was about as polite as it was going to get, lewder words still sticking in his throat. But that was not quite it as they dove down again, leaving his hands empty, and squeezed his shaft hard through his trousers, a trickle of pre-cum seeping out. Gasping, Dai's head rolled back, even though he did not try to stop the gloves in the slightest, heat spreading down his neck and through his chest, want and need intermingling in a delicious cocktail of potent intoxication that he had revelled in with them time after time again.

"My..." He blushed, heavily. "Oh... My cum. You want that?"

Ah -- so that was the trick! They went mad at that, bobbing and dancing and giving him all manner of 'thumbs up' signals, the tips bobbing so hard as they pressed together that he feared for a moment that they would topple into the table itself. He would, of course, strive to catch them and save them if that happened but he took his time in thinking it through, letting them settle even as the gears of thought turned in the privacy of his own mind, drawing his own conclusions from both their interaction and their earlier behaviour.

Something about him infused them with energy...and that was alright. The details did not need to be any more than that and he smiled as he folded his own hands before him, ears shyly laid back as if he did not quite dare raise them in the presence of a power that, by far, overshadowed him in its generosity.

"Thank you," he said at last, choosing the shortest, simplest words in conveying the depth of his meaning. "I needed you then, back in the shop, and I need you now, maybe more than I can say. If you need my seed then you can have it anytime that you want it -- you already seem to understand that I need to still do things like work and I'm glad of that. This..."

The words stuck in his throat and he cleared it with an awkward cough, the gloves before him perfectly still. Why were some things so difficult to say?

"You let me live out a fantasy of mine over and over again and," he said, taking one of the gloves and kissing the back tenderly, "I will forever be grateful for that. Thank you. Thank you ever so much for all that you have done for me."

The gloves froze for a moment and then slowly slithered free from his grip, hovering before him as if to study him. He wondered if he'd said something wrong -- had that been too much for them? -- but they merely shrank back and shifted from one side to the other, not quite seeming to know what to do with themselves. Regardless of what life they had led and lived before they had come into his life, he was willing to do all he could to sustain them and their innate magic, thanking them for each and every gift they laid upon him. Really, for a rabbit like Dai, it was all he could do as they allowed and assisted him in playing out his fantasies, seeming to know just what tickled his fancy before even he knew it himself.

Smiling as genuinely as he could, putting all of his emotion into his face, whiskers quivering, he spoke again.

"Thank you. Sincerely."

It did not take the gloves to come to their senses again, however, settling into a new notion of being as just the one floated to his hand and gently linked its fingers with his. This time, there was none of the usual ripping his clothes off and dragging him to the bedroom, oh no -- they knew that Dai was going to follow either way and, this time, there was a sense of something sweeter in their touch, the sensation of satin against his hand. He could hardly help himself from admiring the beauty of the old leading the way up the stairs as they towed him along, the one in his grip controlling the situation, although he was left with a sense that he could have honestly have taken his hand away at any moment and they would not have minded too. They just wanted to give something back to him.

In the bedroom, they perched him on the bed and caressed his face with all the tenderness that could ever have possibly have been dredged up from the world, stroking his fur and even teasing between his whiskers as he trembled and let out the lightest, breathiest moan ever. So kind... So gentle... There was nothing he would have ever wanted to do to have any of it stop, wanting it all to continue on and on and on, all for his ultimate pleasure and the lust of the gloves, the essence of him that fuelled them on and on and on.

But it was not to last -- at least, not that part -- and the gloves floated over to the glove cupboard and opened the doors, revealing the many pairs within that were still quietly dormant. Flitting inside confidently, they rifled through, seeming to be looking for a particular pair. And there were oh so many of them to choose from even though the bunny could not help but wonder just why they did not simply enchant the rest of them too, making them do the 'finger work', as it was. 'Legwork' just wasn't going to cut it.

They, however, seemed to find just what they were looking for and selected a long pair of white evening gloves with a distinct seam -- one of the very first pairs that he'd ever actually purchased for himself. He'd cared for them well over the years and the fabric still shone a crisp, startling white in testament to that, the enchanted pair floating them over to him and holding them before him.