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--The Bet

Aivon stared at the black object in front of him. It was phallic and tapered to a rounded point. It looked almost like a piece of art. Its base had two short protrusions which reminded him of the crossguard on a sword. A black wire ran from its bottom to a compact, matching node which concealed batteries and circuitry.

"You have to be joking. That thing? In my-," he paused mid-squawk, "inside me?"

Desmond smiled. Aivon hated Desmond's smiles. He had an entire gamut of smiles which the bird had memorized. This even, dry pseudo-smirk with coy eyes was only slightly removed from the usual smile, but its meaning implied that this crude object would indeed be inside of him soon.

"Please, no," Aivon said lamely. "I don't like things inside of me."

"You liked my dick," Desmond said bluntly. "Which, I'll admit, isn't exactly a jumbo-sized fuckstick, but it made you curl your toes and wince and, eventually, with a little coaxing, shoot a wad across your own belly. And this expensive little piece of silicone isn't much bigger than my dick, so I think you're gonna be just fine, birdy-bird."

Aivon clicked his beak and huffed. "I suppose I don't have a choice in-."

"Nope."

"-the matter," Aivon continued, pretending not to hear Desmond. "And I think, if you're going to have this... leverage over me, then I should have some over you."

A new smile twisted up Desmond's foxy face. It was the smile he reserved for telling Aivon he was wrong, before detailing why. "Is that so."

Aivon looked hopelessly at Desmond. "I guess not. Never mind."

"Oh, no, no, no," cooed Desmond, curling around Aivon. He was warm and soft like a living teddy bear, and his plushness never failed to arouse Aivon at least slightly. The bird allowed himself to be cradled in Desmond's furry warmth. He closed his eyes. "I'll have wireless access to a vibrating buttplug stuffed up under your tail. No, you should have some way to even the odds."

"I should?" Aivon asked uncertainly.

"You should," Desmond affirmed, and he patted Aivon's crotch gently. The bird tried unsuccessfully to keep Desmond out by pursing his thighs. "If you can make it throu-u-ugh... let's say a whole day with that thing in your butt, without cumming, I'll let you do whatever the hell you want to me."

"A whole day!" Aivon squawked. "I'm sorry, but I don't think you could offer me anything to make it worth the humiliation."

The fox tittered his faggoty, insufferable laughter. "Oh, please. You're already the star nerd on campus. Nobody's gonna think it's strange if you're tensing up and panting and sweating. They might just think you finally hit puberty."

"Oh, shut up," Aivon hissed.

"And if you can survive that, then you can, well, I dunno," Desmond said coyly, "fuck my brains out or something."

Aivon considered. He rubbed Desmond's padded paws. "What if I don't want to fuck you? What if I want something else?"

Desmond snickered. "If you don't want that, then I don't know. I'll buy you, uh, something for your Dicks and Dragons games or whatever-the-fuck it is."

The bird stared at the wall. Pinned above Desmond's bed was a tapestry of a stag in a jockstrap, clutching a football and gazing lustfully at the viewer. He diverted his eyes and huffed. "Let me just... get this straight, then. My challenge involves suffering twelve hours with a vibrator thrumming away against my prostate gland, and if I succeed, I get to fuck you?"

"Well, when you phrase it like that, it sounds like I'm coming out ahead either way, yes," Desmond conceded, wearing the biggest shit-eating grin imaginable. "But here's the other part of that equation: I'm the cool guy with the sex life and I make the rules when it's playtime."

"You just enjoy having things in your butt."

"Yeah, yeah, and so do you," Desmond grumbled. "So, what do you say, bird? You get my ass or some nerdy shit if you win. C'mon."

Aivon groaned. His penis was stiffening under his shorts. "I suppose."

That was the end of it for the day. There was nothing beyond the usual cuddling and petting Desmond and Aivon shared at night when there were no studies to procrastinate on. But that night, as silently as he could manage it, Aivon masturbated while Desmond snored. A nagging murmur in his head told him the foxcoon knew what he was doing but wouldn't say anything. Desmond seemed to know about everything Aivon tried to sneak by him when it came to masturbation. He was always there with an accusing smirk whenever Aivon came out of the shower after too long, and despite how religiously Aivon cleaned his browser history, Desmond somehow still knew about his roommate's interest in small twinks taking it from large hunks.

The bird's climax was heavy and hot that night. Something he would never admit to anyone, especially not himself, was that he wanted to suffer a day of lectures and library studies with a vibrator humming in his ass. It brought his sexual trysts with Desmond dangerously close to the public eye. Nobody at college save Desmond knew he even liked men. What would they say if they knew?

Probably nothing, Aivon told himself, rolling over in bed to face the wall. He wiped his fingers clean with a tissue. I room with Desmond Lankett. Everyone knows he's the gayest thing to ever live. They probably know exactly what we do.

Something about that acknowledgment pleased Aivon. It pleased him the way a whiff of the football team did, playing to the hyena in his weird breeding. He was smiling when he fell asleep. He dreamed about Desmond getting the football team to run a train on him in the locker room.

--The Long Day

Aivon squawked, then whined. "Watch it back there."

Desmond was incredulous. He dug knuckle-deep into Aivon's tight, pink anus with two lube-caked fingers. "Seriously? This hurts?"

"No, it doesn't hurt," Aivon said. "It's just that the lube is cold... you should have held it in your fingers for a few minutes."

"It's gonna warm up fast," the fox assured his roommate. He dug deep and beckoned inside of Aivon. His padded fingertips, pressing into the bird's anal wall, pressed sweetly on the prostate gland.

Aivon bunched the sheets up in his fists. "Desmond, stop that. I won't last two minutes if you keep winding me up like that. That's cheating." His words were feeble; he liked this too much for his own good.

Desmond grabbed Aivon's cock near the edge of the bed. He started to jerk and squeeze, using Aivon's dribbling precum as lubrication. Over the bird's hisses and moans, Desmond said, "I know that. I'm getting you off so you have a fair chance."

"Oh. Oh, thanks," said Aivon, feeling genuine gratitude. Sometimes Desmond was a very sweet, considerate lover.

"Yeah. You know," another firm beckon, "just in case you jerking off under the sheets like some twelve-year-old didn't drain your balls enough."

"Oh, god damn you."

Desmond tittered. He tugged Aivon's cock with thumb and forefinger, cinching it up. "God, honey, you're just so obvious. If you wanted to cum that bad, I could've sucked you off. Kinda mad you wasted that much good jizz, actually."

Aivon clicked his beak. He was hissing, huffing, his orgasm embarrassingly near. He bleakly thought there's no way I'll last the entire day.

"C'mon, come o-o-on," Desmond purred. He leaned under Aivon and stole a lap across the knob, something ordinarily pink which his squeezing had turned a shade of purple. "Shoot that spunk for me. I know I still have the magic touch."

It took Desmond only ten more seconds to get his affirmation. Aivon grew tense and whined. His anus clenched into a snug oblong around Desmond's two fingers, arresting their movement. Already spent from the night before, the bird shot pitifully into Desmond's fingers but with mighty, jerking throbs from his semi-strangled cock. He crooned as he sank into his afterglow.

"Oh, yes, ye-e-es," Aivon whined, smiling giddily, eyes closed. His hyena tail swished and swayed, brushing across Desmond's face. "Thank you."

Desmond was smiling too. His own small cock had grown stiff behind skinny jeans and tight white briefs. "Anytime, baby." He drew back his lubed fingers, leaving Aivon's anus somewhat swollen but not reddened. Without waiting or even giving warning, he replaced his fingers with the shaft of the vibrator. Aivon squawked, then shivered as the cool black silicone settled into him.

"That feels a little better than I thought it would," Aivon shyly admitted.

"Gonna feel even better when it starts to hum," Desmond teased. "Let's get you dressed now. You have a big day ahead of you."

It was 7:30 in the morning when Aivon got to his first lecture. Desmond had not turned the vibrator on yet, but it still caused Aivon discomfort. It shifted awkwardly against his insides, causing not pain and not exactly pleasure, but awkwardness. Despite his inept gait and the way he possessively clutched his spiral-bound notebook to his breast, he found that Desmond's prediction rang true: nobody cared or noticed that he was behaving strangely.

Things went downhill once Aivon was halfway into the lecture hall. He was nearly used to the buttplug when suddenly, it began to vibrate. It started with a sharp buzz and Aivon squawked, earning curious glances but nothing accusing. He looked down at the floor in shame, and the vibrator settled into a steady, gentle buzz. He sat down slowly, sitting as far from the other students as he possibly could, and that was a good precaution because as he sat, the buttplug pressed into his prostate gland perfectly, as though it had been designed to do so. Which, Aivon supposed, it probably was.

Through the hour-long lecture, the vibrator sang in Aivon's ass. Ordinarily he kept meticulous notes in tight copperplate; he could stretch a notebook out for months even in the busiest of semesters. Today his writing was little more than a scrawl. The constant buzz and the subsequent throb of his penis against his tight briefs caused him to shake like a diabetic in dire need of insulin. His script leapt like the output of a seismograph in Los Angeles when the foxcoon chose to turn up the intensity.

At one point Aivon found himself doubled over as though he were ill. Sweat poured off his face and dripped from his beak, splotching the madly scrawled writing on his notebook. Deep in his gay ass, the vibrator trilled at its highest setting, and Aivon thought with frightful sincerity: I am going to murder Desmond Lankett.

Every subsequent lecture was an even greater nightmare. Aivon wasn't safe in the hallways, either. In fact, he believed himself even more vulnerable between lecture halls. Twice, when the foxcoon cranked the vibrator up to its peak, Aivon had to feign illness and shrug off the sympathy of others.

"No, no, I'm fine-, fine, very fine, I'm quite all right," the bird had said, squatting near the wall. He swiped at the sweat on his face, smearing it off on his bare fur and scales. "Ah, it's just a bit of-," he choked, "I think I have malaria, I'm fine."

And on and on it went, Aivon's entire day wracked with this unwanted but sweet torment. His penis throbbed in his shorts; his handwriting descended into illegible glyphs; his thoughts alternated between desires to hang Desmond from a lamp post and suck him until his balls ran dry.

Aivon left his final lecture completely disheveled. He was teetering on the brink of climax, and Desmond, wherever he was, had been alternating the vibrations all the way from off to maximum. What made it unbearable was the unpredictability of it. It was Chinese water torture. He knew the next burst was coming but he didn't know precisely when it would be, just that it was guaranteed to happen.

Now he could go back to his dorm. He could head back and tell Desmond, listen now, you long-haired sissy, I'm going to fuck your ass and you're going to hate it. He would hate it because Aivon would be on top for once. But Aivon knew otherwise. In his frazzled state, Aivon simply didn't care if Desmond was winning either way. He intended to take his prize, and it would not be a new game book.

Through his mental ramblings and desperate wandering for the safety of his dorm, he made his critical mistake and realized it too late. He should have taken the long way around, but he wanted to get back to the dorm so he could free himself of this awful device which was now purring happily in his ass at its full power. Any path required he go outside because the dorms were disconnected from the main hall, but the route he had chosen was a collision course with the football jocks just now calling it quits for practice. And they would be sweaty, vile, musky beasts even after their quick showers. He saw them nearing the commons near the fountain, the commons where he was heading, which he could not deviate from because the signs so firmly said KEEP OFF THE GRASS PLEASE! To the orderly bird, there may as well have been electric cyclone fence separating him from the safety of the musky football team.

Aivon hurried along, but the football team beat him in easy strides. They didn't mean to intercept him, but they did exactly that. Tall and muscular, all equine, and all ripened with musk a ten-minute shower couldn't even begin to suppress, they were irresistible to the bird's hyena half. He lingered in their wake, drinking up their sweaty stink as they trudged past laughing and joking, unaware of the desperately horny geek in their presence.

It was too much to bear. Aivon was preemptively ashamed of himself. He had survived the war only to die on the voyage home; he climaxed into his shorts. Rich stallion musk and good vibrations combined to make him slop the insides of his underpants, something which caused him a deeply unpleasant pang of mysophobia. He doubled over, wincing as though he had suffered a terrible pain. A concerned hand fell on his shoulder. He shrugged it off and ran, moving in an awkward gallop towards the dormitories. The only thing he was grateful for was that his ejaculate was thin and watery after his being milked that morning.

I'm going to kill Desmond, he thought tartly. I'm going to fucking murder him.

--The Reckoning

Desmond looked up when the door banged against its rubber stopper. He was seated at the desk in his briefs, but made no effort to cover himself. "Aiv!" he said, beaming. "D'ya make it?"

"You jerk," Aivon squawked, throwing the door closed behind his back. "I'm gonna pull your hair off for this."

"I guess you didn't make it," the foxcoon said somberly, but he was grinning. "We never decided what happens if you lose. So, what I want-."

"Take off your underpants," the bird said in a threatening tone. He slipped off his shorts and his cum-stained briefs, which looked as if they'd been pissed in. His penis was stiff again already, his sex drive reinvigorated by the decision he made on the scurry back to his dorm. He slipped the humming vibrator out of his ass and dropped it carelessly on the floor. "And grab your ankles."

The foxcoon looked at Aivon's penis, then gave him a wry smile. He stood up and placed his paws smugly on his hips. "That's not the deal, bird-butt. Though if you asked nicely, I might-, hey, hey!"

Aivon grabbed him in his scaly black hands. He had height over Desmond, and for once, he put it to use. He hurled the foxcoon onto his bed where he sprawled beneath the tapestry of the handsome stag. "Take them off, fox!"

"Ooh, are you gonna rape me?" Desmond cackled with delight. He peeled his briefs off and welcomed Aivon into the bed with a kiss on the beak.

"Shut up," the bird grumbled, pinning Desmond on his belly. The frail nerd was gone, subsumed by this clumsy but domineering personality. He pushed his wet cock between the cheeks of Desmond's ass. His glans ran along the fox's taint and notched into the pucker.

"Mmm!" Desmond quivered underneath him. "Hey, easy, baby."

"Shut," Aivon hissed. He was blushing; he was embarrassed by this. Even now it felt as if Desmond was in control of him, and that pissed him off, so he pressed into Desmond, entering him smoothly. A long and shaky moan warbled past his beak. He had never penetrated anybody before and he did not realize Desmond had lubricated his ass in anticipation of this.

Despite his orgasm having happened so recently, Aivon had the readiness of a pubescent boy at that moment. His fingers dug into Desmond's shoulders for support, causing the foxcoon pain he didn't voice. But he said, "Easy, baby... you're pretty big, y'know."

Aivon didn't tell Desmond to shut up this time. He was quivering just from the feel of Desmond's inner muscles working his cock, attempting to reject it but ending up massaging it with their slippery surface. The bird wriggled against Desmond's soft, gay ass. An awkward rhythm started to coalesce. Before he knew it, he was fucking Desmond.

The bird huffed and his eyes drifted closed. "Oh, gawd," he breathed. "Gawddamn..."

"Ea-a-asy," Desmond cooed, nuzzling into the bed. His smile was enormous. "Mmm. You're big. You gotta take it slow."

Aivon bumped and squirmed, still moving uncertainly, but his penis tingled with new pleasure. The fact that this bet had been stacked completely in Desmond's favor ceased to be a concern. If this was how giving anal sex felt, Desmond would need to find more pillows to sit on. "Mmm, shut up," he said quietly. "I'm fucking you. And that's that."

Desmond's cheeks reddened. He giggled. "Yes sir!"

It was to be expected that Aivon's first time inside of another man would be brief. He felt the familiar rush in his loins, that almost chilly feeling of a climax taking hold. His balls throbbed and his cock twitched, and the bird smashed his hips into Desmond's bubble butt. He let loose a squawk and he came, squirting into Desmond with the last his balls had to give. It was nothing but a trickle of watery semen, but it was his first deposit under Desmond's tail. He was very proud of it.

"Hey," Desmond said inquiringly. Aivon slumped on his back. "Hey, did you pop?"

"I-, yes I did," Aivon murmured apologetically.

Desmond snickered. "Well, gosh. Can't say I expected you to come back being all dommy."

Aivon chuckled sheepishly.

Desmond went on fishing. "So, you kno-o-ow, I was gonna ask for a blowjob for my prize, make you put on one of those beak rubbers. My dick's all hard from this."

The bird bumped the top of Desmond's head with his beak. He began to smile. "You want me to suck your cock?"

"If you want me to come out and say it, yes."

Aivon's smile grew, becoming a grin. It looked different on his beaked face, but it was one of Desmond's grins. "I'll give you a blowjob," he said with calmness Desmond did not like. "But only if you wear that vibrator for a day, while I control it, and I fuck this ass again if you end up cumming."

The foxcoon was both proud and aghast. He laughed. "God damn, Aiv. You trying to one-up me or something?"

The nerdy bird pinched one of Desmond's ears in his beak. The cry of pain Desmond made pleased him. "Take it or leave it, bu-u-ut I think I'm going to fuck you anyway. And knowing you, you're not gonna have much of a problem with that, are you, Desmond?"

Desmond didn't answer. He was blushing and frowning. Aivon didn't mind. He didn't need to be told what he already knew.