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While this section of story has elements of NSFW material, it is certainly not yiff. From what I can tell, there are quite a few well written steamy hot sex stories currently available on this site. If that is what you are looking for in this tale, I'm sorry but you will have to look elsewhere.

I'm still fairly new at this whole story-writing thing so don't be surprised about errors and incongruities. I ask that you please let me know if I have made any such glaring or obvious mistakes (preferably in a respectable manner) and I will do my best to remedy them in the future.

As with many stories on this website this tale is meant for people over 18/21 and may contain elements that some readers find offensive, including but not limited to the following:

-Furries

-Homosexual Relationships

-Heterosexual Relationships

-Gore (Both blood and Presidential Candidates)

-Sex (Of any kind)

-Abuse (Verbal, Physical and Emotional)

-The Color Blue (Whether it is Indigo, Teal or even Navy)

If you find any or all of the above list to your disliking I would ask that you not scroll down or read any further. To the remainder of the folks, please enjoy and I would love to know what you think.

All characters are fictional and any names or they may share with persons, both fictional and non-fictional are purely coincidental.

All characters and fictional locations are the intellectual property of banditfromtheeast © 2018

All Rights Reserved

Damaged

Part IV: Broken

It was by far the deepest and most restful sleep I could remember having. Did it have something to do with last night? I think that you'd have to be an idiot if you said no. I don't really even remember how it started but god I certainly remember exactly how it ended. We shared such a beautiful experience together and I finally was able to not only let him know, but also show him just how much that I loved him.

Zeke Ravalski: My Fennec Fox; The man I love.

God, even saying his name makes me feel amazing, just think of the how much better the real thing is.

Speaking of which, there seems to be a Fennec Fox sized hole between my arms. What could be a better way to start the day than a long and drawn out cuddling session where I could savor and stroke every nuance of my partner?

I slowly extended my arms across the bed attempting to locate the warm, amazing, and beautiful body of the man who I love without having to face the mild hardships of opening my eyes in the morning sunlight.

First one side, then the other:

...Nothing

Exploratory mission with the legs, maybe he's near the foot of the bed?

...Nothing

Disappointment.

But wait ... a noise in the distance ... a frying pan?

Breakfast?

He always did love cooking!

I nearly leapt to my feet as I headed for the hall, stopping just long enough to put on a pair of boxers. You could almost describe it as sprinting, the way I raced across the small apartment to the kitchen. I wanted to hug him, to hold him, to tell him how much I cared about him.

"Hot Pan!" He yelled as I turned into the kitchen, managing to stop a few feet shy of him. "Just sit at the table, I'll only be a minute."

Even that was hard, I wanted to be near him right now, but I more than knew that he's worth the wait.

Still though, it felt like an eternity but it really couldn't have been more than a few dozen seconds. He turned the corner and my tail started wagging uncontrollably against the back of my chair. He placed a large plate of bacon, eggs and toast in front of me while taking up his position across the table.

It looked fantastic, cooked to perfection and plated expertly. He looked fantastic, that gorgeous tan fur, large adorable ears, wearing nothing but a set of jeans and a spring jacket...

Why was he dressed this early, it's Saturday?

Doesn't matter, he made us breakfast and I know it's going to be delicious!

"Enjoy," he said quietly before looking timidly down at the table.

I started in, chowing down contently and greedily on his phenomenal food. The sooner I finished eating the sooner I could focus on him. Holding him, nuzzling him, kissing him; I could barely contain myself. With half my plate already gone I glanced upwards, across from me he sat silently; there was no plate in front of him.

Why wasn't he eating?

"Where's yours?" I asked between a large and exceptionally delicious bite of crispy bacon. I didn't even know we had bacon!

"I'm not feeling very hungry." He looked a little ... off, more than usual I might add. Maybe he wasn't feeling well?

"Are you feeling alright," I asked. He didn't look up at me, instead choosing to stare at the tabletop. I put my fork down and sat up in my chair hoping to get a better angle to look him over. He looked off, but there was nothing really unusual about him except that he was fully dressed on a Saturday morning.

Then I saw it, behind him tucked away close to the front door:

His suitcase; it was packed.

"Zee, why is your suitcase there?" I asked hesitantly.

"I start work on Monday, I'd like to do a few things around the house before I go back." He still refused to look at me.

I wasn't hungry anymore; my stomach dropped; I wanted to throw up.

"Oh..." I replied tentatively.

"Can you please drive me home after you're finished eating."

"Okay," I said back. My lip was quivering, this wasn't going the way I thought it would, the way it was supposed to be. "You're still up for the movie later though?"

"I don't think that's a good idea Max."

That hurt, like being sliced open by a razor blade.

"Oh..."

It was all I could come up with. This ... this whole thing ... this wasn't supposed to go like ... this.

"Just let me know when you're ready, I think it's time I go home."

I cried.

I'd like to say that I didn't but I did, and more than once. After I had dropped him off at his condo when he entered the building and disappeared from view, when I came home while I was lying on the couch alone for the first time in over a month, when I crawled into bed without a warm body next to me. Each of those and countless more; I was an inconsolable wreck.

I texted him eleven times that weekend with messages ranging from asking how he was doing, to attempting to rescheduling our plans for seeing a movie. He finally replied to me on Tuesday.

I'm really exhausted with work, I'll text you later this week

He never did; I cried myself to sleep every single one of those days.

There was no reply the next week either; I called his office to make sure he was alright, the receptionist told me he was fine but too busy to take personal calls.

What had I done wrong?

I ran through every moment of that beautiful evening together again and again and again, searching endlessly for a reason. Did I push him? Did I hurt him? Was I simply not good enough of a man to be both the partner and lover that he deserved?

It haunted me, both in my dreams and during every waking moment of my life.

I needed to know. How could I change myself if I didn't know what was wrong in the first place. How could I become the most important person in his life if he wouldn't even talk to me?

The plan started coming together middle of the third week while I was slowly scrounging around at home. Zee's scent had faded almost completely from the apartment by now and that faint lingering smell was the only thing that was consoling me enough to sleep at night.

I didn't lie when I said I had become addicted to him; the withdrawal symptoms I was experiencing were as real to me as the effects of any physical drug. I was scouring every nook and cranny of my domicile to try to find something that he might have forgotten. An old shirt, a pair of socks, a blanket he cuddled up with while laying on the couch. Anything I could get my paws on to just get one more whiff of him.

Then I found it.

Not the answer to my immediate problem, Zee was far too thorough in his packing, but a potential tool for the much larger one at hand. A clipped together folder of insurance records from Zee's accident had fallen behind the small desk in the living room and was now presently in my possession.

It wasn't much, but it was an excuse of sorts, an excuse to go see him at his place. Still though I couldn't believe my luck. I texted him late Wednesday and told him that I would drop it off after work on Friday. Finally he gave me a response:

Okay

I was nervous, excited, and scared all at the same time, but I knew I had to find out what I had done to drive him away from me.

Zee had always been a very reserved person, and probably always will be. That could have been why we always were such good friends, I could (and would) handle all of the social situations for the both of us and he could (and usually would after some encouragement) tag along knowing that he was welcome with whatever group I had made plans with.

The downside of his highly introverted nature is hishatred forunannounced or impromptu social gatherings. Come over unannounced? Don't expect to be let in to his apartment. Want to go for an impromptu dinner together? Well unless you booked that dinner with him three or so days ago you're going to be eating alone. He needs structure, certainty, and plans. Timetosimply prepare himself forthe interaction with others.That's why this reason to go to his place is so important, I don't think I could get in any other way, or at least not in any reasonabletime frame where I couldfix whatever damage I'dcaused.

Wednesday, Thursday and Friday all flew by in an instant, the next thing I knew I was standing in front of his door, gently knocking away at it.

Silence...

It was deafening.

Then a soft creak, a click and the door slid open ... about three inches, he had the safety chain on.

"Hi," I said nervously, clutching the folder tightly to my chest.

"Hey..." he responded. He looked exactly as I remembered him and it took every fiber of my being to not reach out through the space and grab him.

Neither of us moved, we simply stood staring at each other separated by a thin wooden door. He broke the standoff first.

"Thanks for bringing it over." He reached his arm through the thin gap provided by the brass chain; he wasn't even planning to open the door for me. My slim window of opportunity was vanishing in front of my eyes.

"Can we talk?"

It came off much more needy than I would have liked, but I was truly desperate.

"I ... don't think that's a good-"

"-Please?"

My eyes had started to well up and I gazed pleadingly at him. I needed this, please Zee, don't take this away from me. Our vision locked and I could sense his resolve waver, he relented a few seconds later with a sigh. The door shut briefly before opening fully, and he motioned me inside.

His unit was immaculate, as if it were straight out of a home decor magazine; it didn't suit him at all. I followed him to the kitchen where he had been dicing vegetables for dinner, he resumed his previous work without so much as an acknowledgment towards me; I sat down on a bar stool positioned at the counter top that separated the kitchen and living area.

The skilled and speedy slicing of veggies were the only noise between us. He hadn't said anything; I knew he wasn't planning on saying anything; it would be up to me to push the necessary conversation. It wasn't exactly something I was looking forward to doing but I figured that if I was blunt about the whole thing we could actually get some results quickly, and hopefully I'd get the answers I needed.

"What did I do wrong?"

I immediately cringed.

How I planned that coming out and how it actually came out were two very different things. It sounded so pathetic, almost as if I were about to cry, although I think I actually was about to cry.

He stopped his knife and looked at me briefly before returning to his meal prep. What followed was almost a whisper but I definitely heard it.

"Nothing."

It didn't make any sense, I had obviously fucked something up between us. Wait, maybe it was something so obvious that he was actually embarrassed that I didn't know what I had done wrong. That sounds like something I would do, far too oblivious to my surroundings to actually understand them.

"Please Zee, I need to know what I did to push you away."

Definitely came out better this time.

He froze and slowly raised his gaze to meet mine.

"Nothing Max, you did absolutely nothing wrong."

His chin then dropped and he silently went back to his chopping. This wasn't going to be easy, but I was tired of beating around the bush.

"Obviously I did or we wouldn't be here Zee. I wouldn't be fighting tooth and nail for you to even give me the time of day and I certainly wouldn't be crying myself to sleep every night because you'd be right next to me if I absolutely did nothing wrong."

Harsh? Perhaps.

Necessary? I should say so.

My point had been made and I think I had made it clear that I needed resolution about the matter. Hopefully this would get him to talk.

I could see his grip on the kitchen knife tighten and he stopped mid-chop through a stalk of celery. Those eyes, I'll never forget that look that he gave me. Cold, vacant and either sad or angry ... maybe both; I was too startled to accurately interpret them.

"Fine Max! Fine!" He was almost shouting. I had never heard him raise his voice before. "You want to know what you did wrong? I'll spell it out for you: NOTHING. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. You're perfect in pretty much every way. You're kind, caring, funny and have no problems giving up huge portions of your life to help someone who's in a bad situation out. You're such a good person Max, you deserve ... No, you Need to have somebody of a similar caliber in you're life. Someone who meshes with you, who syncs up to you on a physical, mental and emotional level. And despite whatever you may think, I'm not that person Max, I'm absolutely not that person."

I was stunned into silence for a few seconds, watching as he caught his breathe after the very out of character rant.

"What are you talking about, you're absolutely-"

"-No Max, I'm not. In ever single way I'm the opposite of you, from physical stature to being able to participate in social situations. We are nothing alike."

The finality of his voice in that last sentence terrified me. How ... why is he fighting so hard against us being happy together? What is he doing?

"There's nothing wrong with opposites Zee, look at what we've been doing together for the past few months. Are you telling me that you didn't enjoy spending all that time with me?"

"That's not the point Max, I was put into that situation and we dealt with it together the best that we could. Was it enjoyable? You know what, yeah it was. But you know what else? I know for a fact that if I hadn't been in that stupid crash you absolutely would not have spent a month with me watching movies and bumming around together in your apartment. You know why I know that Max? It's because I know that you're better than that. You're the kind of person to grab life by the horns and run with it, not settle down into a rut and accept the hand that you've been given. You need someone special in your life that has that spark as well, but with me what you see is what you get, all I am is a rut."

He winced then paused for a brief moment, realizing that he had nicked his paw with the knife which he had been unknowingly using to enunciate his points.

"Even if you don't see it now Max, I do, what our future together would look like. The resentment, the frustration and the subtle anger; not now sure, but down the line all of that and more will be directed towards me with every single bit of it being entirely justified. I can't let you do that Max, you're too good of a person to let yourself sink to my level."

"Stop saying that Zee, I'm not any better than you are. Sure I wish it didn't take a hospital trip to be the cause of our recentbonding but it was ourexistingconnection together that made it really special. Our years of friendship was finally given the right environment to bloom into something more. That last Friday night was proof of that, we are already on the same wavelength Zee, you're just choosing notto see it."

"I'm sorry Max but you're wrong again. The only thing that last Friday was proof of is that we are undoubtedly not on the same level. I never went in there with the intention of doing any of 'that', but I just ended up causing such a reaction on you that was just how things turned out. That's honestly just how bad I am at reading and interacting with people. I completely missed every sign you were giving off Max."

He paused again and licked the small cut on his paw, sucking up a small amount of blood between his teeth before returning his gaze to mine.

"I'm going to ask you three questions Max, then I want to tell you a story-"

I went to open my mouth but gave me such a glare that wisely thought better of it.

"Alright Max, I want you to tell me the truth. Can you do that for me Max?"

I paused silently for a moment, making sure that he was in fact now waiting for my response.

"Of course Zee, I would never lie to you."

"Good," he said calmly, taking a deep but gentle breathe before turning to face me with an entirely neutral expression. "When was the last time you got off?"

"Got ... off? Like as in-"

"-Exactly, when was the last time you came?"

This ... was certainly an odd question.

"Last night," I admitted. "I was think-"

"-That's all I needed Max." He appeared unsurprised and frankly disinterested with my answer. "Now question two is more of a followup than it's own question. About how often do you normally get off? Once a day? Once a week?"

"Probably once a day, sometimes maybe twice." I felt really awkward having to say that aloud but if he needed to hear it I didn't want to hold back any information from him.

"And that's question two Max, are you ready for the third?" As with the last response, this one didn't seem to phase him at all.

"Sure ... I guess?"

"When was the first time you remember getting off?"

"Oh..."

Why was asking me this? Was it a test somehow? Was he testing me? I wanted him to tell me the truth about everything between us so it was only fair if I truthfully told him everything that he asked me about.

"That would've been when Thompson Yanders in grade six brought in one of those wildlife magazines documenting native tribes living on islands in the Pacific, you know the ones where they don't really wear any clothes. So anyway we were sitting outside at lunchtime looking through it and Mrs. Gunderson starts walking over to us. Thompson freaks out afraid that he'll be caught with it so I tell him I'll take care of it if he runs interception with Mrs. Gunderson. Well he agreed and he got her away from me so I ended up with the magazine and I took off. Later I told Thompson that I had hid it in a bush in the school yard but when I came back for it it was gone. He ended up believing me but I had actually secretly stashed it in my own backpack and I took it home where I ended up 'studying' it rather intently. That was probably also the first time I really started to notice that I was much more interested in the large muscular males than the big-breasted women. So I guess in the end I was ... twelve ... maybe thirteen?"

"That ... was really ... specific. Honestly was not expecting all of that."

"Hey, it was sort of a memorable story."

"I suppose so."

An awkward silence crept over the room. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as he simply stared at me from across the counter.

"So um, what was your story?"

"Oh, yeah. Well the story I wanted to tell you about takes place in my first year at university, probably biology or something I can't remember which class specifically. Anyway the professor had gone off onto one of his tangents while discussing scientific studies, bringing up an odd case study done which was to research into how access to pornography impacts male sexual development. He explained that there was to be two groups, one composed of males who had watched pornography in some form before they had turned eighteen, while the second group had was to compose solely of men who had not watched pornography in any form before they turned eighteen."

"To me that seemed like a fairly reasonable and straightforward starting point, you know having a baseline and separating a control group from the other participants. However most of my remaining class members had immediately burst out laughing and at the time I couldn't figure out why. The professor then explained that the study was unable to proceed as try as they might, they could not find any men who had not viewed porn in some fashion before they were an adult."

I snickered and couldn't help but grin at the thought of the poor researchers vainly going through hundreds of incompatible applicants.

"That definitely would be a problem, but why are you telling me this."

"Because I was nineteen at the time and not only had I never watched any pornography, I had never even masturbated. It was a strange realization to come to, that somehow you're a statistical outlier to not only all of your peers but your gender in general. I went home that night determined to prove that somehow I wasn't an odd one out, that somehow the right circumstances just were never there."

"So you jerked off?"

"Actually ... no. After ten minutes of what you could call attempted self-stimulation I gave up. Nothing was happening and I had some actual studying to do. Frankly I pretty much put it out of my mind altogether."

"Oh!?"

How the fuck else are you supposed to respond to that?

"When I was twenty four and in my intern placement program, one of my fellow co-workers made a remark about how he was being 'blue-balled' by his then pregnant wife, and was forced to jack himself off alone in his bathroom every night. Everyone laughed of course with the single guys amongst the group making remarks along the lines of 'join the party' or 'now you know our struggle.' That thought again popped up in my head. If this is the norm, then what is going on with me?"

"As I'm sure you can probably recall I never exactly had too many friends to begin with and none really went above the level of basic acquaintance, so it doesn't take too much effort to stretch yourself to the realization that nothing had ever happened between myself and anyone else. It was and would be solely up to me to take charge and control of the situation if this is was to happen, so when I got home at the end of the workday I wanted to prove to myself that I was normal, that I could be normal if I wanted to. Well after two uncomfortable, unimpressive and unenjoyable hours I had my answer, I'm just not like most other people."

"You should talk to a doctor about that, that doesn't exactly seem ... normal."

"I have, and they've run a lot of different tests. Nothing comes back out of the ordinary, it's just the way that I am I suppose. They did offer some pills or something that would probably help but at the cost of mood swings and a potential change in personality. It's just not worth it to me, which pretty much means that that's the end of my story. I just never bothered again after that."

"Wait ... so you're telling me that-"

"-Yeah, I had never done anything ... at all, before that Friday night. It too is another reinforcement of the whole 'we're opposites and entirely incompatible' thing."

He glared glumly at the kitchen floor while I stared him down from across the counter. The more time that passed between us the more I began to fume. I was sick of him putting himself down like that while at the same time attempting to place me on some sort of pedestal. Sure we were different but I knew that we would make it work. I was going to be there for him whether he thought I should be or not and the sooner he came to realize it the better off he was going to be.

Swift action was required on my part though, however my growing anger was going to make sure that it wouldn't be too long until it happened.

Abruptly I stood, marched around the counter, spun him around and pinned him against the counter top with his front facing me. I tried to be firm yet gentle with my movements but I knew that I was scaring him, the frantic twitches of his eyes made that more than clear. I took a hold of his wrist and disarmed the knife from his hand, before settling in with a firm grasp on his frame; both his ears and tail were pinned tightly to his body.

"Alright Zee, I've had enough of this ... this ... Bullshit. I'm tired of you making yourself out to be the bad guy, the weirdo, the strange one. Well guess what, we're all strange in our own way and I don't care if that makes our relationship more difficult." I think I was firm but fair in my assessment of the situation but he wouldn't look at me while I was speaking. "I've been accommodating with your questions so I think it's time that you answer a few of mine Zee. I've got three of them as well and they're all simply yes or no ones. But I want your honest answers Zee, I want you to answer me honestly."

He squirmed a little in a sort of half-hearted attempt to wriggle free but I was more than capable of holding him in place.

"Question one: Do you love me Zee."

It was simple, to the point, and all I needed to know. Despite all his long winded excuses and justifications it was all I really needed to know from him. Everything else didn't matter, and if for some strange reason it did, we would make it work.

There was initial silence as the severity sunk into him. He squirmed again but I refused to let him free.

"Don't do this Max." He began to speak upon realizing the finality of my own question, staring at the floor while he spoke. "Don't make me do this."

"Look at me Zee and answer the question."

His head slowly rose and my green eyes met with his brown ones. It was almost as if it pained him to look at me, but I forced him to do it. It was going to be the only way I would know for sure if his answer was truthful. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it immediately afterwards.

"Do you love me Zee, yes or no."

His eyes began to well and while it pained me to continue I knew it was necessary for the truth to come out.

"Don't make me do this Max," he whispered.

"Yes or No Zee. Do you love me."

I stared deep into those brown eyes and they quivered under my gaze. He finally broke after several more agonizing seconds of silence.

"...yes."

It was a relief, but we were only part-way done.

"Do you believe me when I say that I love you more than anything or anyone else in the world Zee, and that I want to spend every moment with you from here on in?"

"...Max..."

"Yes or no Zee, yes or no."

Horrible Silence...

"...yes."

"Good, last one Zee, we're almost there. Do you want to be with me, as a partner, a lover, a mate; however you want to put it and regardless of any potential or perceived issue between us now or in the future? Simply put do you want to be with me?"

"Please Max-"

"-Just answer me Zee, look me straight in the eyes and answer me."

The tears were starting to roll down his cheeks and while he didn't want to face the reality of our situation it needed to happen. I felt sick to my stomach for doing this to him but it was going to be worth it.

"...yes"

"Then that's all I need to hear. As far as I'm concerned we're together then."

I released him, but not before planting a kiss on the top of his head. I quickly withdrew leaving him shaking alone in the kitchen as I took my place back on the bar stool. He needed time, time to come to terms with what had just happened, the changes that had just occurred in his life.

It almost wasn't fair, what I had just done to him. All of his prepared defenses and strategies to deflect the onslaught that he knew I would lay out on him while attempting to make him my own. And yet for all his work it just took three simple words, all of which were the truth, to unravel his whole integrated system.

I had won, simply put, and he needed to come to terms with it, however that may be. He was silent as he slowly picked up the knife and went back to preparing veggies. He remained silent while cooking them in a stir-fry, and said nothing when he served them for dinner.

But something had changed ... or more accurately was going to change. Something deep inside of him was building and would eventually erupt in a manner I'm not sure he could deal with on his own.

I talked about my day as we ate dinner together; he still didn't say a word. That wasn't a surprise to me, but honestly it didn't matter. I had already challenged him and his thoughts and won, at this point I was absolutely euphoric. He cleaned up the dishes and I could feel the subtle tension building in the room. Not between us, but more accurately between his personal beliefs and his new reality. It was going to be intense and I knew I had to be there for him when the fireworks started.

He didn't say anything when I told him we were going to have a shower together after dinner. I didn't ask him, I told him. He was my boyfriend, _my_boyfriend and I was still riding the high of victory. I was going to savor the spoils of war and all the benefits that came along with it.

I bathed him, first with my tongue then with the cleansing hot soapy water. I explored and claimed every square inch of his beautiful body as my own before washing away the old metaphorical filth and grim that covered his being. Under that steaming hot spray I held him, caressed him, cupped my paws protectively around his most sensitive regions, all the while swaying back and forth and explaining to him how much he truly meant to me.

He said nothing throughout the experience and I expected nothing less.

Once dry I could feel the invisible strain of his mind beginning to reach it's peak. Still naked, I lifted him up in my arms and carried him to the bedroom; he was far lighter than I could ever imagine for there was almost nothing to him. His delicate and fragile frame needed my protection and I would always be there to provide it.

I set him on my chest as I laid down on his bed. The warmth of our two bodies feeding each other while our respective furs mingling graciously together as they passed over one another. I stroked his back and tail lovingly as he lay atop me; I knew it was almost time.

The dam in his mind burst shortly after I had found a comfortable spot on his mattress. It started with a few rogue sniffles but soon progressed to an uncontrollable stream of sobbing and tears.

"Why am I so broken?"

It was the only audible thing he managed to get out in all of those hours of crying he did that night, before exhausting himself to the point of slumber.

I had won, there was no question about that. Zee was my boyfriend and would be for the foreseeable future. We had been friends long enough for me to know that he would never be strong enough to pull away from me on his own. He would be my partner, my mate, my lover for as long as I wanted him to be.

As he laid there, sobbing relentlessly while I made futile attempts at comforting him and his mental anguish, the small but painfully guilty thought came to the forefront of my own mind. Sure I had won and made him mine, but at what cost?

End

Thank you for taking the time to either read this, or scroll to the bottom of the page. Either way I would like to personally thank you for it. I would greatly appreciate any constructive criticism on the work.

Word Count: 5,609