Care for Her!

Tommie blinked at me, her soft curves visible under the dim light, breasts full and untouched, nipples hardening slightly in the cool air. Her hair was greasy, tied back messily, and her skin looked dull, like she hadn't showered in days.

The futanari bulge in her pants twitched faintly as she shifted, but she crossed her arms over her chest, hiding herself. 'Hey... what are you doing here?' Her voice was flat, lacking its usual warmth.

I held up the bag, forcing a smile. 'Brought food. Figured you could use some company.' I stepped inside without waiting, the cum scent wrapping around me like a confession she hadn't voiced. It was everywhere—on the fabrics, in the stale air—evidence of her neglecting everything, including release that didn't leave her emptier.

My heart ached seeing her like this, my dominant side itching to take charge, to pull her back from the edge.

She shuffled to the kitchenette, avoiding my eyes, and I set the food down, glancing around. Dirty dishes stacked in the sink, her bedsheets visible through the open bedroom door, tangled and spotted.

'Tommie, talk to me,' I said gently, keeping my tone steady, not accusatory. 'This isn't you. The mess, the way you're not taking care of yourself... it's getting worse. I noticed at the coffee shop, and now here. You smell like you've been... well, you know. But it's not just that. You're slipping, and I hate seeing it.'