After Christina, Jenny, and I got back from the square, I was about to send Oliver the photos.
But right after I hit send, I checked my feed and saw “Furry Diary” had updated its homepage.
I figured it’d be another one of his sweet little stories, like always...
[Furry Diary: A story I wrote for you.]
He tagged my handle in the post, and the image was his own hand-drawn doodle.
I didn’t bother scrolling through the wild comments. Some were sending their blessings, some were just stunned.
People clicked into my profile, gushing about how gorgeous Oliver’s artwork was.
Meanwhile, I sat frozen in the backseat on our way to the hotel, wind slipping through the tiny c***k in the window, messing up my hair. My face felt stiff, like I’d forgotten how to move.
My chest ac
