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Although they had progressively changed with time, growing with him as he slowly turned from small and insecure leveret to full-fledged hare, his steps had always been familiar to him. Sometimes, he would detest them because they were weak; sometimes, he would thank them because they were fast. Regardless of the case, they were unmistakably his, and he knew all about them, for better or worse.
But he didn’t know whom those present steps belonged to. The weight of the life he had stubbornly chosen to lead that day of fifteen years ago, against all odds and his father’s wants, wasn’t burdening on him anymore. His legs, accustomed to move forward in spite of carrying it, were light now. So light he could hardly recognize them; so light it was almost unbearable.
“You’ll get a headache, if you keep frowning like that.” In some strange, perhaps a bit cruel, trick of events, the voice unmistakably coming from behind him sounded like it was reverberating right inside his head, as though his very conscience had just spoken.
In fact, Jack considered with a bitter smile – which, lucky for him, couldn’t be seen at the time – it wouldn’t have been so odd if the will of his heart was voiced by Cynthia Walker. “How can you possibly know that I’m frowning, if all you have access to from that position is my back?”
“Because, when you’re in a mood, every part of your body works together so that this fact is perfectly apparent to whoever gets to interact with you.” A feather-like touch reached him between his shoulder blades, one that made his guts silently twist in a sailor’s knot. “Here,” she tapped twice, “you’re stiff as a board. I highly doubt your face is any better.”
Second part of JSF delivered for your pleasure! Many erotic things are going to happen in the third part, but you’ll see them next month (unless you’re willing to patronize us for a while). Anyway, thank you very much for following us! See you (not so)soon with Operation Dinnertime!
She thought it looked good on her. It made her feel confident; the mellowness of its hues suited Cynthia’s soft fur and her half-grown shapes. On top of that, she had learned in her favorite magazine that the color had come back that year.
For that very reason, the vixen had no hesitation when she had spotted that delightfully pink underwear in the new store that had opened a couple blocks from her house. She distinctly remembered money flowing into the cashier’s hoof with extraordinary celerity and no regret at all in lightening her wallet, even if it meant plundering her weekly allowance in one fell swoop. After all… it was so similar to the lingerie the model in the magazine was wearing! Virginia Hoxen was classy and charming, and so self-assured. The underwear looked perfect on the red vixen like it was made designedly for her.
She was Cynthia’s favorite model. Even back then, in the process of getting her paws on the new purchase at the expense of her already poor wallet, Cynthia eagerly anticipated being at home, in the dim light of her room, dressed in nothing but her spanking new lingerie as she pretended to be in the midst of a photo shoot.
The young vixen had gotten home all happy, swinging her shopping bag as she hummed a little tune from a popular toothpaste commercial, and immediately proceeded to hole up so that Cecilia wouldn’t have caught her red-pawed – or pink-pawed , in her case. Once the door was closed behind her back, Cynthia very quickly stripped off: her cream bra was tossed onto the bed, along with the blouse, while emerald green pants and yellow slips hastened to the floor. Totally naked, paying no attention to the sensation of air tickling in between her thighs, she walked away from them with even, measured steps; then, she pounced on the bag and dug out the inestimable treasure which it contained, arranging her pink possessions on the sheets as a broad smile spread on her lips.
“It’s gorgeous .” The vixen breathed, ecstatic. She knelt before the bed and ran a paw over the fabric, quivering in pleasure at the sensation; the padded bra seemed to be extremely comfy, while the slips were especially smooth and glossy. Her tail started wagging as she grabbed the latter and got on her feet again. It was quite a nice piece of underwear (although very, very thin) and Cynthia wondered how it would be to wear silk in the most naked and sensitive part of her body. She’d never worn silk before, so she was genuinely curious. Surely, models wore it all the time, for it was such an exquisite fabric. “Would dressing in this lingerie make me a model, too?” Cynthia asked aloud, giggling like the cute, silly little vixen she was. “If that’s the case, how nice would it be to pose together with Ms. Hoxen!” Her giggle degenerated into a high-pitched cackle; the toothpaste commercial came to mind again for some reason, and she began to sing an improvised gig that was blended with her maniacal noises: “Pretty and sexy I will be, with this pink lingerie…”
To make her fancy even more convincing, the jejune female went to her desk and picked up the latest copy of F. F. amongst the hodgepodge of stuff that Cecilia mockingly called ‘Cynthia’s Thrift Store’. “Pretty and sexy I will be, with this pink lingerie…” She kept on warbling as she sat on the floor cross-legged, her paws flipping quickly through pages until the red vixen showed up in front of her muzzle.
“There she is! Ahh, look at her, she’s such a beauty in this picture…” It was the same photo where she had spotted the inspiring lingerie for the first time. Ms. Hoxen, her fine body lazily elongating on a midnight blue sofa, was giving the reader her customary come-hither look as a paw was lifted to hold a nice glass of wine in the same direction. Just below the image was a footnote which was titled: ‘Dare to be pretty. Dare to be sexy.’
In the end, the model Cynthia had bought wasn’t exactly the same, but that wouldn’t have prevented her from partnering with the red vixen she admired so much.
Assuming, of course, that she was worthy of the honor.
It feels a little off to publish something on Tumblr, on a time like this. Things haven’t been nice for us lately, especially on this platform, but we keep going despite everything. All our comics are important, but I believe Operation Dinnertime is especially dear to our heart, so it’s always a pleasure to share new pages with all of you. 💕
Here it is, the so-called “fumetto lercio”. Part 1 of 3, the second one is currently on progress.
We want to remind you that this comic, along with Operation Dinnertime, will be the last featuring Jack “Savage”. We promise the story won’t be greatly affected by the changes we’re planning to make, so don’t worry. 😊
“So… even on a day like this, our dearest Jack intends to be coy, huh?”
When Cynthia’s voice reached him from over his shoulders, so close that he could feel the warmness just behind his ears, it took Jack a considerable effort not to make a vertical leap which would’ve sent him outside the Earth’s atmosphere, hurtling toward worlds he could hardly imagine. And one more massive effort helped him to control his tone, as words composed by some sort of emergency generator of his mind flooded out like spurts of fresh water: “I didn’t mean to escape the celebration; I was just, you know… preparing psychologically. I’m not used to this anymore.”
Behind him, he heard her giggle. “What is this that you’re not used to, parties?”
‘To any of this,’ the hare was about to jest. He felt Cynthia’s arms sliding in front of him, knotting tight around his waist, and those little bits of sanity and self-possession he had managed to gather in the loneliness of the dimly lit hallway, all his efforts to cool down and behave normally in front of her… everything melted away in a heartbeat, like snow bathing in the sunlight. ‘To you, your warmth, your scent, your affection, and…’ Jack swallowed hard; even thinking about it was enough to cause him to shake like a leaf. ‘… And this alluring body of yours that torments me day and night.’ “Let’s say… it’s one of many things.”
“Oh, I see.” The arctic vixen leaned her chin on his shoulder and rubbed her cheek against his. “You do realize it’s not nice of the birthday boy to flee awayfrom his guests, right, Jack? Everyone’s waiting for you, let’s get back… ah,” she stopped, giving him a scrupulous sniff, “Such a good smell that you have today, I hadn’t noticed. It’s not your usual cologne, is it?”
Many years ago (okay, maybe just two), this photo appeared in one of Black Jack’s pages. Then, it appeared again on the recent J, Episode 0.2 in a different context and with a definitely better look.
The story behind this picture is one I intend to tell you one way or another; we don’t have all the time in the world and sometimes it probably feels like we’ll never finish what we’ve started, but that’s absolutey not true. So please, wait for us. Don’t settle with imitations of our works, for we’ll definitely be here and won’t disappoint you. Cross our hearts.
🔎 You can find the HD version of this drawing on our Patreon, here!
If you are from Zootopia’s fandom, please don’t mistake Cynthia Walker for “Skye”. Read this journal for more info: Issues with Cynthia’s identity
The name “Jack Savage” and the character’s basic appearance and job belong to Zootopia’s discharged early concept; however, everything that concerns his characterization, background, relationships and new design is up to AoiRemArt.
