She was on her hands and knees on the rug in front of him when he came back into the room.
He stopped in the doorway and looked at her.
The costume was a black bodysuit, matte and fitted, following every line of her from the neck down with the specific commitment of something that had been made to do exactly that and nothing else.
A hood with rounded ears sat on her head, her blonde hair tucked back beneath it. A tail attached at the base of her spine curved upward behind her, the arc of it sitting above the round of her ass.
The fabric across her chest was cut low enough that the upper curve of her boobs pressed against the neckline from the inside, warm and visible above the black material, sitting there every time she shifted her weight or moved her arms.
Paw gloves on her hands, soft and rounded.
