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“Battlefield never goes away

We're so brave when we're in pain

Maybe you're sad and that's okay

Maybe you're real

Maybe you're afraid"

Sleigh Bells,

' I'm Not Down'

The engine hum is deafening, it's almost silent. Neither of us have said a word in minutes. The pick up went fine, Adrian was enthusiastic and camp, even gave me a brief one-armed hug when I entered the car, but I found myself tongue tied and have struggled to carry on the conversation. Since pulling out he has done nothing but drive, staring out the windshield, jaw shifting occasionally. I'd wager we're both thinking pretty much the same thing: this is our chance to have it out, and we're blowing it.

“So..." I venture, threading my paws together on my lap.

“Yeah," he says, nodding at the road. He licks his lips from left to right in one deliberate motion. “We should talk."

I wait, eyes on him, my world for the moment contained within the anxious flame of his bright red fur. He says nothing, I'm engrossed, I barely notice that we're pulling into a gas station parking lot until we're stopped and the engine hum is gone.

“You wanted to clear the air, right? Something about Kale?" I ask, voice barely above a whisper. To talk louder would be to violate the intimacy of the moment, and I haven't been so intimate with Adrian since the night we met. Back then we were freer, younger, friskier and far less haunted. His muzzle felt good wrapped around my dick, if I recall correctly. In fact, those minutes spent between the two of us are the only ones I remember fondly from that night: a brief and all too short respite from Marty.

“Yeah." He puffs out a lungful of air then breathes in deep. “You know how I said that Kale told me about your night together?"

I swallow. “Uh huh."

“He didn't exactly volunteer the information."

“Oh."

“He was in such a strange mood when he got back from Canada that I knew something had happened, but I had no idea what. I guess I asked enough questions, because eventually he caved and told me." His grip on the wheel has only tightened since he started speaking, its rubber creaks as he shifts in his seat. “It was upsetting, but we got past it. It's not about that, though, not really. What's gotten to me lately is- I don't know if I'm just being crazy, or-" He shakes his head.

I desperately want him to dismiss the whole thing, to move on and allow me to enjoy my vacation without the looming threat of drama and disaster. Or, at least, that's what I tell myself. My paw finds his shoulder and I offer a gentle squeeze. “Something's bothering you, don't dismiss it. You'll feel better for getting it off your chest, crazy or not."

Another part of me wants to be exposed, and to expose Kale in turn for every load he left in me behind his lover's back. Out of jealousy, spite, shame. Not a question of which, all three.

“The thing is, I don't know if it's all in my head, but I've felt a distance between us as of late." As of late? So, this really has nothing to do with me after all. The revelation only has my heart pounding faster. “It's been like this for maybe half a year. I've noticed an avoidant streak in him, a tendency to brush past concerns too quickly, or to meet my worries with a kiss. I must sound terrible, framing his affection like a problem, but-"

“Anxiety's a bitch, I get it. It can make you feel like things are one step away from falling apart whether they are or not, and when they actually are it convinces you you're crazy for believing it. No need to justify yourself to me."

Adrian flashes a weak smile. “Well, I thought about it and realized it all started around the same time he got a lot closer to a friend at work, Ross. They hang out all the time. That didn't bother me at all until..." He fails at fully forming another syllable a few times. I pick up where he left off.

“Until you thought back to how he was after he returned from Canada," I say. Adrian nods, his ears twitching with discomfort. “Have you talked to him about it?"

“About Ross? I, uh... I haven't, not exactly. You're really gonna think I'm crazy for this one, but- No, let me start further back. Kale and I had been discussing the if and when of getting married for a good long while before we actually committed to it, and I kind of thought to myself: Adrian, this paranoia over Kale and Ross is all in your head. Kale is the love of your life, you want to marry him for god's sake! Why don't you just propose? When he says yes you'll know everything is good between you, and if he says no then, well, at least you'll know."

I sit up straight and blurt out the first thought that comes to mind. “You proposed to try and figure out if he was cheating?"

He focuses in on my face, staring at me with his wide golden eyes. They are wild with an energy I have never seen nor felt from him before “Not only for that! I love him, and I have done for a very long time. But, that was part of it. It sped me up, if nothing else."

I swallow and nod once, processing. “So you proposed, and he said yes, but the fears haven't gone away. Is that about the shape of things."

His eyes screw shut, the rubber of the wheel creaks more than ever. “That's it."

I let his heavy breathing slow, his grip on the wheel loosen before I go on. “So, where do I come into this?" My voice is level, I play the calm co-operator, a pit of shame in my stomach devouring me from the inside. The question of whether or not to expose the extent of Kale's infidelities with me has been pressured into a singularity, becoming an internal black hole with my morality at its event horizon.

He sniffs, finally letting go of the wheel to wipe the glistening corners of his eyes. “He was unfaithful to me with you once, I think maybe that gives you a unique insight. Be honest with me Ash, did you ever think maybe you weren't the only one?"

I blink, then blink again. The question is simple, reasonable even, but I find it difficult to comprehend. A painful truth fills the insides of my skull like an intense brain freeze, explaining my confusion: I thought I was special. No, not past tense, I still think I am. Words tumble from my muzzle: “No, I never thought that. But..."

“But what?"

“But, it never even crossed my mind."

Adrian seems to digest this as the corners of his mouth shift up, down, left and right in erratic bursts. I see myself reflected in his eyes: fat and thoughtless. How did this pretty boy's boyfriend ever bed me of all people?

“I'll take that as a good sign," he says, sighing, the accumulated mass of months of anxiety briefly rolling off of his shoulders. “In that case, Ash, I'm sure it will come to nothing, but if for no reason other than to clear my mind before the wedding: I have a favor to ask of you."

*

Ross's arrival has me rethinking this whole thing. I knew he was coming alongside his partner to join us for dinner, and I knew Adrian had suspicions about him, but I didn't know his species. Unfortunately, it makes all the difference.

A gray-brown otter, announced as Ross, waves at me while wearing a smile so cheery that his cheeks lift until he's squinting. He's on the shorter end, dressed casually in a shirt and black jeans and is about as pudgy as myself, I instantly distrust him. He's Kale's type in much the same way I am, except with one key difference that makes me question the wolf's sanity: he's an otter. Really, Kale? After what the two of us have been through?

Regardless, I offer my most polite greetings while maintaining a distance that precludes physical contact. His presence alone makes me uncomfortable.

His partner bursts in soon after, a youthful twink of a deer with pale brown, white-spotted fur, long hair and horns so short I almost mistook him for a doe.

“And this is Ami," Kale says, gesturing toward the deer.

Shit, maybe she is a doe after all and I got the wrong-

“Also known as the other Adrian," Ami says, cackling, approaching me, full of energy. They flip some of their hair behind a shoulder and wink at me. “Ami is a nickname, it's all of my initials put together," they add, by way of explaining. Without asking they wrap me in a brief hug that I only half-reciprocate. They seem oblivious to my discombobulation as they go on. “I'm Ross's boyfriend. You're Ash right, Kale's ex?"

My eyes go wide. Kale's ex huh? Where did he get that from? But I can't entirely deny the accuracy of it, even if we only actually dated for a brief time, if at all, depending on how you look at it.

“I, uh-"

“You're a real cutie," he says before I can form a more cogent response, then seems to remember the existence of his boyfriend and hurries back to fetch Ross so that he can show him off to me.

“Really nice to meet you both," I say, waving a raised paw, attempting to conclude our greetings before the otter can wrap his arms around me too, though he doesn't give off the spontaneous-hugger vibes of his ditzy boyfriend, thank god.

Marty is loving this, his muzzle practically rests on my shoulder as he eyes up Ross. He laughs and wonders how Kale could have traded him in for that stocky, second-rate. He says the wolf's taste has really gone downhill.

“Where's Sascha?" Ami asks, his gaze darting all about as if he were a pantomime character. It's a good thing his horns are so short or he'd be liable to take an eye out.

“Oh Sascha couldn't make it in the end, something came up." Adrian says as he steps off toward the kitchen. “Great timing from you two though, I'm almost done in here. Go take a seat."

Kale guides us to the dining room and places us around the table. I'm given a spot at the end with Kale to my left, Ross and Ami to my right. I was planning to lock in when Ross arrived, to be as present as I could, but being so close to an otter has me clutching my legs and leaning back against my chair, at alert for all the wrong reasons.

I'm doing my best to focus on Kale instead as Ami yaps at him about something I have no context for, but Ross turns to me with a lazy grin and tries to butter me up with small talk. All otters know how to do is manipulate people, if Adrian's worst fears turn out to be true then I blame this bitch more than I blame Kale.

Or maybe it's the other way around. I can picture Kale shoving this fatty down, tugging his thick tail and fucking him rough, getting his own back on Marty through Ross. Twisted fucker.

“It's so nice to meet you Ash," Ross's words are so polite and his manner so cordial it makes my stomach turn. I grin and bear it, grinding my teeth between tight-sealed lips.

“Pleasure's mine, uh... Sorry. I'm terrible with names, what was yours?" I ask, using the opportunity to condescend, enjoying the chance to have an otter play by my tune for once.

“Ross. I'm Kale's friend from work. We've known each other a couple years now, but we've gotten closer as of late." Of course they have. It's like he's taunting me, like he thinks there's no way I could know what he's doing. He's all confidence and bravado and bullshit, just like Marty. That perfectly manicured smile, the white shirt with the top two buttons undone, the tuft of chest fur artfully spilling out, the slight tightness that pulls a little at the fabric signifying he would've looked better in a shirt one size up to most eyes, but not Kale's. All combined it makes me want to sock his nuzzle and run. “How long have you known the happy couple?"

“Longer than you," I say, reaching for my water and pulling it to my lips before registering Ross's flinch and furrowed brows. I force a laugh. “Over three years, sorry. I'm out of it today, I swear." I clear my throat and focus up. I was an actor, I can do this. I just won't let him touch me and I'll be okay. If he touches me I'm not responsible for what happens next. I might have to slit his bastard throat.

“Oh yeah, you just flew in right?" I don't correct him. “No wonder you're out of it. Don't worry about a thing." He's altogether too nice. “You used to go out with Kale, right?"

“Sort of. We only went on one actual date."

“Oh, right." He raises an eyebrow, tilts his head. He either knows very little about what went down between Kale and I, or he's lying to my face.

“Why ask? Wondering how good he is in bed?"

He chokes out something between a cough and a laugh.

“No, no, that's quite alright." He waves his paws in urgent denial. Fucking dweeb. I can tell Kale would love pushing him around and getting him to do whatever he said. Pervert. “I'm very satisfied with Ami."

Ami's focus shifts to us at mention of his name. “What'd ya say honeymuffin?" He clings to Ross's arm and peppers the side of his muzzle with kisses.

Ross develops a sickly, self-satisfied grin. “I was just telling Ash how you're all I'll ever need."

Ross is too saccharine, it's like he's actively overcompensating for something. That or he's nothing more than the dumb, gay nerd he seems to be on the surface. Thankfully Adrian arrives to save us all from the ick. If you told me the sight of Adrian would stitch together my frayed nerves tonight, when not a day ago he was an unknown, anxiety-inducing entity, I wouldn't have believed you, but reality makes fools of us all.

The stew he prepared is delicious and the fresh sourdough even better, it's enough to distract me from the pastel-painted, dark cloud to my right for a few sweet minutes as eating, exchanging pleasantries and offering the odd thanks to the chef - I bought the sourdough this morning, thank the bakery, Adrian says - save me from deep thought and real conversation. When conversation does resume, as inevitably it does, Ami leads the charge.

“Oh my god, I bet you two are so crazy excited right now?" It's not a question but he make it sound like one, addressing Adrian and only flashing Kale a brief side-eye. “Not long until the big day."

Adrian's laugh rings with the grace of a wind chime. “I know! It's pretty much all I can think about."

I believe his words completely, but his smile only about seventy percent. From what I understand, especially considering what I've learned today, the poor fox might be as mentally ill as I am. It dawns on me that we should have been friends all along. We each see enemies in those that love us, we each find the void staring back at us in the mirror each morning. He's pretty too. Really pretty. Soft features, those big beautiful eyes, bright red fur, a little like Feather's. If Kale is slumming it with Ross over him, the man's a jackass, but it's my fault my friendship with Adrian didn't last: for kissing his boyfriend, for sucking his fiance. If I were him, I wouldn't want to be my friend either.

“The bachelor parties are up first," Kale says, wiggling his eyebrows and patting down his muzzle with a napkin.

“We can't wait for yours, Kale," Ross says. “Isn't that right petal?" His icing-sweet turns of phrase make me want to puke.

“Hell yeah, it's gonna be iconic." Ami audibly smooches Ross's cheek while staring down Kale. “Just about a week away, right?"

His wording jolts something loose in my brain. “Isn't Adrian's first?"

“Oh, yeah, right? It's just," Ami Shrugs and smiles so wide his snout becomes more teeth than fur, “we aren't invited. There's a different guest list for each party."

I shouldn't be shocked, but I am. “Oh. So, uh," my eyes dart back and forth between Kale and Adrian. “I'm the exception to that, huh?"

“We both know you, we both wanted you," Kale says with an easy shrug and a wink that sends my subconscious reeling - who is this wolf anyway? “Besides you're not the only exception, Eve's coming to both too."

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding in and nod, understanding blossoming. “Oh, yeah, of course. Well," I plaster on a smile. “I'm a very lucky dog then, thank you both."

Kale nods, the corner of his mouth twitching. He wanted some time alone and we haven't had it yet. Adrian has been pretty much ever-present since I got here, but I can tell there are things Kale wants to say to me in private, and there's plenty I want to hear.

“You're super lucky for sure," Ami says, wagging a finger.

“I've gotten to know you and Ross pretty well over the last few months," Adrian says. “But we've both known Eve forever, and Ash flew all the way out for us! We liked the idea of having separate parties, so we kept exceptions to a minimum."

“Yes! The separate parties thing is fire. It's very trad. It's giving wifey gone wild, I love it."

Adrian laughs, I half chuckle. Ami is so animated and talkative I'm finding it hard to get a solid read on Kale and Ross, but I make an effort to examine the wolf as Adrian and Ami go on. Kale is watching the two chat with apparent interest, seeming to hang on every word, yet he doesn't laugh along or join in. Come to think of it, he's barely spared a look at Ross all evening. Such exaggerated disinterest loops back around to being suspicious in my book. That, or I'm every bit as paranoid as Adrian.

I notice now my thumping heart. Excitement and fear blur into something indistinguishable from either. It's like the last time I was in this city all over again: drama buried in every exchange, tension that builds so gradually it's easy to dismiss, tragedy in waiting. Except this time I'm not the desperate protagonist, I'm a bit part who might just set the dominoes falling. I thought I would hate being embroiled in their melodrama, and I do - I so do - but I've already admitted that the fear inside my chest is excitement too.

I look to Ross. He has eyes only for his deer, but whether they are glued to Ami by way of a practiced lie, or by genuine love I don't know. Marty whispers in my ear that all of this is utterly delicious. I vow to visit a spirit medium when I get home, maybe we can materialize his ghost so that I can murder him all over again.

*

Adrian insisted on giving me a lift despite Kale offering numerous times to do the same. He asks what my initial impressions are of the Ross situation, I tell him that I don't have many. I say that I'll meet with Kale in the next few days and get back to him.

“Do you think I'm way overthinking things?" He asks.

I say no, and admit I have my suspicions too. “But I could be every bit as deranged as you."

We laugh it off, like it's nothing. He drops me off at Feather's place.

Having left the soon-to-be-wed couple's presence I feel the psychic weight of giddy anxiety and heady paranoia lift from my shoulders. I physically shake off their aftereffects before buzzing Feather's flat. God, just a few hours around them and I'd already begun to regress into the person I once was, the one I left behind, the one who went by a different name. I expel more breath than I new I had in me and resolve not to let that happen again.

“Hello," comes the intercom, buzzing with the unmistakable playful tone of Feather.

“It's me," I say, the simple exchange starting up a fresh beat of anticipation in my heart.

“You didn't call ahead," they say.

I look behind me, Adrian is long gone. “Well, uh, you did say I could come over tonight."

“I did, but you didn't give me a chance to get ready and put something nice on, you know?"

I've come to know them well enough to know they're teasing.

“Oh you don't need to wear anything special for me. In fact, you don't need to wear anything at all." I say, settling into an old, familiar confidence with an ease that surprises me.

“Well I was going to pick out some lingerie, a butt plug, some bondage gear, a collar and all that but if you'd rather I just stay in my pants and a tee that's good with me."

“Well if you're offer-"

I'm buzzed into the building. I mutter a curse beneath my breath as I enter, feigning annoyance, but feeling only warmth.

When I knock on their apartment door they yell out that it's not locked. Inside, a neo-soul record spins in their soft lit living room, the dimmer set no higher than half. Feather stares up at me from a loveseat, their buck-tooth grin only the second thing I appreciate after their half naked body. A lacy purple bra supports their modest chest, with a pair of matching panties below and a thin, translucent black nightgown, worn open, completing the look.

Other than pulling the door shut behind me and locking it, I am lost as how to proceed. I stare them up and down, eyes roaming across every inch of their body with a hungry intensity, muzzle parted as it drags in and pushes out ragged breaths, heavy with desire.

“Too much?" Feather asks, simultaneously teasing and sincere.

I nod, and kick off my shoes. “Too much. Unless you're trying to goad me into fucking you right here and now."

Their resultant smile reaches their eyes for but a moment, after which their expressions twists into a smirk as they beckon me with a curling finger. “You seem to think you're in charge of if or when we fuck."

I can feel the fur on my neck rise and a heat run from my cheeks down through my chest and to my groin. But I can take the heat, I can give it too. This is me in my element. I pull off my socks in no rush, despite the protestations of my body.

“Here I thought you're half my size, far more fem and - from all those OnlyFur videos of yours - a near-total bottom. Of course I'm in charge."

“You're forgetting something, Ash. Something vital. I know you. I suspected the moment we met, but now I know for sure: you're a pathetic, submissive, chubby bitch. A pup like you is made for following orders."

Fuck.

All I can do is stutter.

“Good boy," they go on. I'm in shambles. Weeks of pseudo sexting have exposed my proclivities and now they're taking full advantage of them. I'm loving every second of it. “Now, take your clothes off and kiss me."

The seconds it takes to strip my clothes feel like hours, my stiff cock springs forth when freed with an urgency that implies it were moments away from suffocation. I all but pounce on Feather, my nerves vanishing until our noses are touching and we're staring into each other's eyes.

When I first met Feather, picturing sex with them was more confusing than enticing. I don't know when it happened precisely, but that confusion has passed. The more I've gotten to know them, the more obsessed I've become with the idea of touching them, stuffing them, making sweet love to them. I didn't know I had it in me, but my initial half-existent physical attraction has been multiplied many times by social attraction. Okay, romantic attraction. There, I said it, silently, in my head. Still...

I pull back and blink. “You're certain you want this. That you want me?"

They sink back into the loveseat. “What are you afraid of, Ash?" They ask, their gentle cadence as soothing as warm arms.

“That I'm ugly."

“You're not." They place their paws on my generous love handles and squeeze.

“Or that you're doing all of this because, I don't know, I've somehow tricked you into it."

They laugh. “You think I'm so easily tricked?"

“Or that you feel sorry for me."

They tilt their head. “The soft rich boy from up north? No, I don't feel sorry for you."

“Or that you've got the wrong idea."

“And what would that be?"

“That I've settled my mind, that this is me giving poly a go."

They pull me in for that kiss, allowing no refusal. Their tongue twists with mine, tasting, sampling and savoring my muzzle like a fine wine. They are sweet, delicious, dangerous. I feel myself fall into them. I don't have a parachute, I don't want one.

“The only idea I have right now is: I want Ash's cock. What happens after doesn't come into it."

“Then I'm sorry."

“For what?"

“For ruining the moment."

Their paw wraps around my erect dick

“Darling, you're still dripping, the moment hasn't passed," they say. I gasp, and grin, and growl. “There's a good pup. So eager and excited." I offer a yip of agreement. “Look at you, all worked up. It only makes sense after the weeks you've spent fantasizing about me, touching yourself to pictures of my naked body." All I can do is whine and dip my head to nuzzle at their neck, rocking my hips back and forth to fuck their paw nice and slow. They click their fingers. “Undress me."

I prove myself the good pup and do as they say, lifting them to standing, then pulling off their gown, going slow with the bra and fumbling a little - my first time dealing with one of these - but they don't rush me or patronize, they let me work it out on my own and soon enough I'm on my knees, dropping their underwear to the floor. Their dick stands to attention right in front of my eyes and they waste no time taking hold of my head, stroking me and coaxing me towards it.

My muzzle opens around their length. They grab fistfuls of my hair and expel a heavy, pleasured sigh as they drag me to their hilt. With my nose buried deep in their groin, I sniff at their well-groomed fur to find notes of earth, bark, coconut and flowers. I take hold of their hips and rock my head back and forth along their cock. Size wise they hold no candle to Jay, but there's still plenty to work with. Theirs tastes sweeter than most dicks I've tasted, and texturally it's a little softer too - I'm used to working with bone stiff canid cocks - but I take all of their idiosyncrasies as a blessing.

It is so easy to live different shades of the same day every day, to sniff the same city, wear the same clothes, apply the same products, taste the same foods, touch the same keyboard, listen to the same music. Moments like this remind me that there's an endless kaleidoscope of experiences out there. It's up to me to go and experience them.

“Fuck, very good pup." Feather's words are more exhaled than spoken. With a grunt they grind my nose into their crotch, dick deep in my muzzle. My tail wags like crazy all the while, but they shove me away moments later, leaving my muzzle empty and whining. “Be a good boy and wait here."

I do as they say, swaying slightly on my knees in the heady daze of sex, dick still dripping-wet and ready. I stare at their perfectly sculpted bubble butt as they pad away, their long, fluffy tail raised high and offering me an ideal view. I'm practically slobbering with anticipation as a mid tempo groove kicks in and I realize they had gone to flip the record.

They turn and beckon. “Come with me, puppy."

Scrambling after Feather - propelled by stirring vocals, funky bass and a near-overwhelming desire to bury my bone in them - I'm led to their room. I take my place on their bed as instructed, lying on my back looking up at them. The blue-tinted light of a standing lamp bathes the room in a gentle, moody glow as the back-lit silhouette of a squirrel mounts the bed to straddle me, puts their paws either side of my head and leans down to make out with me. They somehow taste even better the second time, my anticipation of their particular flavor making its reality even sweeter.

Lifting to their knees they shuffle back until my dick is snugly pressed against the cleft between their cheeks. Armed with the bottle of lube from their bedside table they liberally apply it to themself before lathering my dick with it in slow, teasing strokes that have me breathing heavy and bucking while they stare down at me, serene as can be, wearing the brattiest buck-tooth grin imaginable.

My paws move to caress their sides, one soon shifting to stroke their pulsing cock as I let the reality of my situation sink in. I've never fucked an enby before. For as much as that newness provokes nervousness, and for all my earlier protests and fears, I am falling for Feather. I could fall past point of no return at any minute. I want this, I need it.

Towering over me, haloed by back-light, Feather becomes a glimmering jewel that I can't take my eyes or paws away from. “You're beautiful," I say.

For a moment their domineering sneer softens. “Thank you for noticing." It's a playful response but one delivered with quiet sincerity.

As they line my tip up with their tailhole I take them in in their entirety. They have a slim, but not bony, boyish structure accompanied by a soft, curvaceous femininity of shape, a genderless blend punctuated by their moderate dick and modest, but perky breasts.

I try out placing my paws on their boobs, and in doing so surge with the embarrassment of an inexperienced boy muddling through his first grope, being that exact boy in so many ways. Their tits feel nice... I'm not really sure what else to say about them, they really don't feel all too different than the chests of bigger guys, and I appreciate them much in the same way: they're pleasant, they're fun to play with especially if I can use them to please a partner - and the smile on Feather's face as I fondle them says it's working - but they have no particular appeal to me. It's no shock considering I still pretty much consider myself gay, although I attach an asterisk to that now. Still, part of me wishes I could appreciate them more. Feather deserves it.

My internal monologue is cut short by a gasp as my dick, perfectly lined up, becomes buried in Feather's descending ass. I grab their hips on instinct and jerk upwards, needing to be deeper. Feather yelps in surprise, composes themself and smirks as they lower themself until their tailhole meets my sheath.

“Needy bitch, aren't you?"

Fuck, this is really it, I'm really doing this. I've been fantasizing about this squirrel for weeks now, months.

“God, I want to drain my balls in you so bad." I'm grinding into them with what little room I have, actions dictated by a pure, instinctual need to fuck. “How do you stay so tight after taking dick from Jay? Damn."

“You really are a needy bitch. Quite a mouth on you too, I suppose I should teach you some manners." They lean down, licking my chest as they lift their rump until only my very tip remains inside of them. “No thrusting, pup. Don't forget who's in charge here."

“Y-yes, of course not." It's a struggle. I have to consciously tell myself not to start clawing into things - the bed, their hips, something, anything.

“Good boy," they draw the words out into a purr, wait a beat, then slam their butt down on me without warning. I'm moaning out with eyes screwed shut; it takes supreme effort to avoid giving in and taking hold and pounding them with everything I've got. They grind their ass on my swollen sheath, letting out their own pleasured hums as they lift themself back to kneeling. I can feel my cock throbbing and leaking inside of them and I so badly want to breed them, but, no. I'm not the one in charge here.

Words fade away as Feather finds a rhythm, the both of us reduced to our most primal, feral sounds, needs and thoughts. No ghost of trauma past haunts me here, I've never been with somebody like Feather, there's no frame of reference to fuck me up and spin me out, there's only that pretty enby bouncing on my dick, coaxing out my knot with every clash of hole on sheath. I'm grabbing the bed sheets and using every iota of determination not to claw at them and tear through and instead to be a good pup and stay still and do as I'm told and, fuck, this is good.

Balls deep in Feather I'm on top of the world. All that other drama, all the clawing shadows from my past trying to choke me out and drag me down are secondary to this right here, right now. They're so pretty, so sweet, so bratty, so fun, and a music nerd to boot, god. Is this what it is to truly want someone? Is this what it is to love them? I don't know.

The tension of having to force myself not to thrust subsides as I put my trust in them completely and exist in the moment. I stare at them through half lidded eyes, panting and grunting and moaning. Their bouncing increase in pace as they work hard to milk a load out of me, closing in on their goal with every passing moment. Their hard cock, which beads cum at the tip as it flops up and down, slapping my belly repeatedly, only drives me closer to climax.

My paws move of their own accord. Freed from their need to grip hard to the bed, they instead roam from Feather's ankles up their legs, to their hips and sides and finally, once again, to their breasts.

“You like my tits, huh?" The question is rhetorical, their momentary leer which soon dissolves into a gasping moan says it all, but the words stick with me.

Do I like them? I mean, clearly I don't hate them, but they don't do much for me. If anything they're the tiniest bit of a turn off, at least in abstract. There's a reason I've thought of myself as traditionally gay most of my life, right? Or maybe that's just what I've been telling myself for so long I've gone and accepted it as some kind of immutable fact. I'm coming around to a new truth that I just kind of nothing them. They're just there.

Fuck, philosophizing isn't sexy. I'm losing the moment, feeling like a soul apart from the body and trying to get back in. I frown as my paws fall to Feather's hips.

“Something wrong?" They ask, their bouncing slowing.

My knot has begun to deflate. I'm losing perspective, slipping into doubt and fear and anxiety and- Not here. Please, not here. Not now. Not with Feather. I want this so damn bad. Please.

“N-no, it's just-" Staring into their eyes helps to center me, to force my spirit back into my body. They aren't hurt, they're concerned. They care about how I feel and what I want. In an instant I know what I need. “I want you to talk down to me. Talk real dirty. Let me know I'm nothing but a-"

“Nothing but a sex toy? It's true." They don't hesitate a moment, in fact their bouncing only speeds up as they talk. “I could've just used a dildo. The only benefit you have is that you'll do as I say. You undressed me, hopped into my bed when I told you to... It's all very convenient. Fuck." They're interrupted by their own moaned expletive as my knot swells and I grip their hips tighter than ever, deciding to act out and thrust into them after all, my knot popping free from the confines of my sheath as it tries to squeeze into their tailhole, desperate for the warmth within. “Big puppy thinks they're in control, huh? Lay down and take it, bitch." One of their paws runs over my belly while the other pinches a nipple. I yelp, but can't help thrusting once more. “The big, chubby, bitch pup wants to plant his seed?" I whine. “Running out of patience are you?" I nod and pant. “Poor, pathetic, needy thing." More whining, more nodding, more panting. I am theirs in entirety, body and mind. “Fine, You've been upgraded from sex toy to fuck machine, congratulations." I go wide eyed, my partially trapped tail wagging between my legs “Go on, puppy, fuck that butt."

I don't need to be told twice. Squeezing their hips I pound into their plush ass, huffing and grunting as I hammer my knot harder and harder against their hole, at one point feeling their squeezing warmth take it almost halfway in before it slips right out again. It's not enough. I bark and growl as I go on, pulling them further down onto my hips as my thrusts grow fiercer, but with less distance to work with I'm practically force-fucking my knot a little deeper into them with each staccato gyration of my hips.

Even Feather's composure is shot by now, all they can manage is the occasional “good boy" between shuddering gasps and high-pitched moans. It's more than enough to push me over the edge. With one last, full force slam of my hips my knot pops in. My entire body locks up for a second, and then all of me is tingling as I instinctively grind my sheath against their asshole while my knot stretches out their insides. I erupt into them, filling them with a torrential load of seed, lost in a breeding frenzy I've never quite felt before, my twitching, shuddering body having escaped my control some time ago.

Riding my spurting cock, they lean back and shift their attention to their own length, clutching their dick and pumping it with great urgency as they clench their hole and shudder over me, milking another spurt from my deep-buried length as they stroke themself to a swift completion, painting my belly in ropes of their own seed while I'm still coming down from on high.

Heavy panting. Their paws on my chest. Their head hovering over mine. “Good pup," they say. “Very good pup."

I wrap my arms around them and pull them into a kiss, their hole tugging once again at my knot as they're dragged towards me. That, combined with the taste of their tongue is enough to drain me of whatever seed I had left.