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Description
First Day of Winter. I don't need to look out the window to know how the cold is raging against Miss's house. Even just getting close to the wall where the window is being gently whipped by the bare branches of a tree moved by the wind, makes me feel the biting cold trying to tear away the warmth of the house.

And if there were no heated floor beneath me, it would succeed. A chill goes up my spine at the thought of my life as a little stray male. These are the days when those who failed to accumulate enough food and burrow themselves underground are cruelly condemned to die of frost and starvation.
And that someone could have been me. My thoughts turn back to the memory of that mid-October evening. A tiny stray male, shivering and wet, in the few rags that covered his small body. A gentle woman, laying her foot next to him. Watching him. Conscious that she could kill him by lifting a foot. But with charity in her heart.

Miss gave me a home. Warmth. Food. Affection.
Naked, I wander through the house, sniffing the scents that float around. Her scent above all others.
I miss her. During the day, when she leaves the house. When this last one remains empty. I am afraid. Afraid every day.
Fear that she might not come back. An irrational fear. Women don't face as much danger as males. Yet the fear remains.
I don't know why Miss goes out every day. When it was still autumn and the year was not so frosty, Miss would take me with her, often in her cleavage. She didn't hunt. She didn't pick berries, nuts or acorns for the winter. She just walked. She spoke to other women, in that slow, deep voice all women have. She stared for hours at that screen of light, tapping her fingers on a keyboard. So she talked to other women, until she remembered to caress me, occasionally, until in the midst of her breasts I fell asleep.

Now it's winter. It's too cold to come with her and I still don't know what she does all day. All I know is that when the sun goes to sleep, she comes back home to me. I hear the door open and my fear slips away.
I know that when she comes back, I run to her, caressing her tired skin with my body. I know she smiles at me. That one more day wherein she gives me love and cuddles. That one more day wherein I lap her toes. Wherein She lets me explore inside the leg of her pajamas. Wherein I kiss her neck. Wherein I take a nap inside her panties, giving her pleasure. Making her bite her lips. Melting away the stress of her day.

I came into her room. Her scent is everywhere, much more intense than in the rest of the house.
A mixture of her sweat, the bubble bath she uses. Of the perfume she sprays on herself. Of the skin-care creams she uses. But mostly of her pheromones. So overwhelming for my senses.
My lungs fill with her and I miss her even more. I walk over to her bed. I climb into one of her slippers. I crawl inside. I roll up on the synthetic fur of the sole.
Her aroma, kept alive by the warmth of the heated floor, envelops me, like a blanket.
My gaze flies outside, past the only corner of the window I can see from inside the slipper. The sun is still awake. It will be a long time yet, for her to go to sleep. For her to come back. To me.

The smell is so intense. The warmth so enveloping. The synthetic fur, softened by the weight of Miss's body... so... soft.
I close my eyes. I smile. I slip into sleep. And I dream of her return.

Description
First Day of Winter. I don't need to look out the window to know how the cold is raging against Miss's house. Even just getting close to the wall where the window is being gently whipped by the bare branches of a tree moved by the wind, makes me feel the biting cold trying to tear away the warmth of the house.

And if there were no heated floor beneath me, it would succeed. A chill goes up my spine at the thought of my life as a little stray male. These are the days when those who failed to accumulate enough food and burrow themselves underground are cruelly condemned to die of frost and starvation.
And that someone could have been me. My thoughts turn back to the memory of that mid-October evening. A tiny stray male, shivering and wet, in the few rags that covered his small body. A gentle woman, laying her foot next to him. Watching him. Conscious that she could kill him by lifting a foot. But with charity in her heart.

Miss gave me a home. Warmth. Food. Affection.
Naked, I wander through the house, sniffing the scents that float around. Her scent above all others.
I miss her. During the day, when she leaves the house. When this last one remains empty. I am afraid. Afraid every day.
Fear that she might not come back. An irrational fear. Women don't face as much danger as males. Yet the fear remains.
I don't know why Miss goes out every day. When it was still autumn and the year was not so frosty, Miss would take me with her, often in her cleavage. She didn't hunt. She didn't pick berries, nuts or acorns for the winter. She just walked. She spoke to other women, in that slow, deep voice all women have. She stared for hours at that screen of light, tapping her fingers on a keyboard. So she talked to other women, until she remembered to caress me, occasionally, until in the midst of her breasts I fell asleep.

Now it's winter. It's too cold to come with her and I still don't know what she does all day. All I know is that when the sun goes to sleep, she comes back home to me. I hear the door open and my fear slips away.
I know that when she comes back, I run to her, caressing her tired skin with my body. I know she smiles at me. That one more day wherein she gives me love and cuddles. That one more day wherein I lap her toes. Wherein She lets me explore inside the leg of her pajamas. Wherein I kiss her neck. Wherein I take a nap inside her panties, giving her pleasure. Making her bite her lips. Melting away the stress of her day.

I came into her room. Her scent is everywhere, much more intense than in the rest of the house.
A mixture of her sweat, the bubble bath she uses. Of the perfume she sprays on herself. Of the skin-care creams she uses. But mostly of her pheromones. So overwhelming for my senses.
My lungs fill with her and I miss her even more. I walk over to her bed. I climb into one of her slippers. I crawl inside. I roll up on the synthetic fur of the sole.
Her aroma, kept alive by the warmth of the heated floor, envelops me, like a blanket.
My gaze flies outside, past the only corner of the window I can see from inside the slipper. The sun is still awake. It will be a long time yet, for her to go to sleep. For her to come back. To me.

The smell is so intense. The warmth so enveloping. The synthetic fur, softened by the weight of Miss's body... so... soft.
I close my eyes. I smile. I slip into sleep. And I dream of her return.