FSE

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It was after midnight, late-April, and Meadow paced back and forth in the darkened bedroom, her furless, pink paws slapping on the cool, wood floor.

Pat-pat-pat.

Stop.

Spin!

Pat-pat-pat.

Meadow looked down at her smartphone. The petite, golden harvest mouse, wearing nothing but her pelt, obsessively refreshed and double-checked the weather maps.

A storm was coming.

_Just like the forecast said. _

A big one.

Just like the dreams I've been having ...

The wind had picked up considerably, making the old, rustic farmhouse creak on its foundation. Distant thunder rattled the windows.

Meadow was half-tempted to head to the kitchen for a snack. She wasn't hungry, but it might get the taste, real or imagined, of adrenaline out of her mouth. Cookies? Would that help? Hmm. I don't know. If you give a mouse a cookie ...

Ultimately, she decided to stay put. Her knees were too wobbly to make the trip.

Another glance at the weather app showed a menacing wall of red and orange almost upon her rural location.

Like a predator.

And me prey.

Nature always wins.

The dreams she'd been having--more like nightmares, really--started out like this. With a storm brewing. And she'd wait in her house for it to come, helpless, unable to escape. The walls would fall away, the world swirling chaotically around her. And then she'd wake up. She never reached the end.

"Meadow?"

She stopped, blinked, and looked to her bed. And the shadowy figure in it.

A lamp switched on.

Meadow shielded her blue eyes with a paw, pupils adjusting.

"What ... what are you doing?" her boyfriend, Fib, asked, also squinting. The male harvest mouse's voice was groggy. His whiskers twitched.

Meadow's phone vibrated. Instead of answering Fib, she looked down.

A new weather alert!

Fib yawned and sat up fully, the sheets sliding off his naked chest. He was six years younger than her. Only twenty-nine, with a nice, slender physique. His fur was patterned exactly like Meadow's: creamy white down the front-middle, rich gold everywhere else. Though his 'gold' was a few shades lighter.

"Butterscotch?" Fib said, using his term of endearment for her. "Are you okay?"

Meadow, realizing she still hadn't answered, flashed her phone at him. "There's ... there's a tornado watch. And a severe thunderstorm warning, too." She paused ominously before blurting out, "What if a tornado hits the house?!"

Fib started to reply but she talked over him. _ _

"I don't even have a basement!" Just that super-creepy crawlspace. Choosing between death and going down there would make anyone pause. "We'd probably get buried alive in rubble. If we don't get sucked up into the funnel." I probably should've had those cookies, after all. Might've helped me to survive longer.

Meadow began to pace again.

Pat-pat-pat.

"We're so far from town, and it's pitch-dark, and the roads will be blocked with debris, so the authorities won't be able to send help in time, and--"

"Hey!" Fib, hearing enough, hopped out of bed. He quickly went to her, putting his paws on her arms to keep her still. She was trembling. "Slow down." His blue eyes met hers. "That's not gonna happen."

"Which part?"

"Any of it," Fib said. "Everything's gonna be fine. It's just normal weather."

"How do you know?" Meadow asked, unable to shake the fear.

"It's my job to know," Fib said. He was the morning weekday weatherman for an Indy TV station. Meadow, through her association, had even been on his newscast once or twice. "Didn't you watch my forecast this morning?"

Meadow nodded. "Yeah ... " She always did.

"I said we'd get some heavy storms after nightfall."

"I know," Meadow whispered. "But ... mm ... " She hadn't told him about the dreams. She'd told Petra, though. The rat, her best friend and co-worker, loved to give advice. Usually unsolicited. And snarky. "That just makes me feel even worse."

"Why?"

"Being so nervous when you know so much about it?" Meadow stated, lowered her head. "You must think I'm stupid ... "

"Butterscotch," Fib cooed. "Don't ever say that! I would never think that." The male wrapped his arms around her. "Fears aren't always rational. I mean, I'm afraid of things."

"Like what?" Meadow asked.

Fib, to her, wasn't an ordinary mouse. He was so extroverted. A confident go-getter who relished attention. Media professions were pretty cutthroat. To survive and advance, you couldn't be a pushover.

"Like, for instance," Fib said, trying to come up with a list of fears. "I don't like ... deep water?"

"We're landlocked."

"Or wasps! Hate wasps."

Alright, that one's legit. Wasps are objectively terrible.

"And dark cellars."

"Well, I don't even have a cellar," Meadow said, her fears sensing an opening and rushing back in. "I only have a crawlspace with no lights, which you can only access from outside, so when the tornado comes--"

"There's not going to be a tornado," Fib re-emphasized, hugging her tighter. "My phone would be going crazy if there were."

Meadow, having no clothes to put her own phone in, did her best to clutch it as she leaned into her lover.

"You know what else I'm afraid of?" he whispered.

"What ... "

"Living without you."

Meadow's eyes began to water. It was such a cheesy line, but it got to her. She squeezed her eyes shut and hugged him tightly.

"You good?"

"Yeah," she said_._

Lightning flashed.

An eerie glow filled the room, visible even through her eyelids.

Boom!

The windows rattled.

Meadow's eyes snapped back open. "I take it back ... "

Fib massaged her back and rubbed his cheek to hers. "Just relax."

She tried to. She really did. It just wasn't working! The root cause of her fears wasn't some surface-level thing that could be swept away. It was deep down, hard to reach.

The wind was howling, now. Madly, in a desperate rage. The house, under duress, was making so many spooky noises. Fib would probably say that mean the house had 'character.' He was always putting a positive spin on things.

I'm not a negative individual, am I?

The house was old. A cozy building, single story. Built by Meadow's grandparents way back when. She'd inherited it from them when they'd passed. But the salary she made working as a receptionist at a dental office wasn't large enough to sink into cosmetic repairs.

Like new windows ...

Fib, who made several times what she did, leased a swanky place in the northern reaches of the city a half-hour from his TV station. He was spending the weekend at Meadow's, out in the unincorporated boonies.

Petra was always asking if they'd move in together. Or get married. Like that would make me love him more? Or make me happier? She recalled a conversation she'd had with her friend earlier in the day ... _ _

_ _

_ _

_ _

Meadow's ears swiveled, walking into the office at 7:40 AM to the loud, rhythmic rapping of the 1980's rat group Apocalypse-86.

Walking behind the reception area, the harvest mouse put down her purse and warned a head-bobbing Petra, "The bosses won't like this."

"Don't worry," the brown rat assured, mouthing some of the lyrics before adding, "I'll change it back to conformist ... I mean 'easy' ... listening before they get here."

Meadow decided to do it for her, changing it to the office default.

"You're not very good at sticking it to the man," Petra accused.

"I thought you said being a 'goody-good' made me hotter."

"Well, in terms of wanting to corrupt you? Yeah. But it's a huge turn-off the rest of the time," the rat said.

"Thanks," Meadow deadpanned, starting her morning routine.

The harvest mouse woke up the sleeping computers, turned on the central air, and opened the blinds on all the windows. Then she went into the cleaning and operating areas and turned on the lights and equipment so they'd be ready for the hygienists and doctors to use. They'd start filtering in at 7:55. Always last minute. Appointments began at 8:00.

When Meadow returned to the reception area, Petra was seated at her computer. She was pulling up the files of the first hour's patients. Without looking away from the screen, the brown rat said, "Supposed to storm tonight. Might get some severe ones."

"I know." Meadow wandered to the window and looked out of it. The skies were clear, and the sun was bright. The trees, fresh with young leaves, wore the light like a promise. Is this what they mean by 'the calm before?'

"Ever think that your dreams might be related to Fibster? Maybe he's the tornado."

"Mm?" Meadow blinked and turned around. "What? How?"

The rat scoffed. "He's a weatherman, and you're having dreams about the fucking weather? Come on."

She has a point.

"Storms in dreams represent change and shit," the rat continued, swiveling her chair toward Meadow. "I looked it up. And if there's one thing you hate," she said, pointing her tail at the other rodent, "it's life changes."

Meadow, furrowing her brow, wanted to object ...

But Petra kept going.

"He's the tornado. You're the house."

"Fib is not a lethal force of nature," Meadow argued, walking to her chair and sitting down.

"Nah, he's an over-eager nerd with delusions of coolness."

"Hey!"

"But I guess he's a hottie ... for a mouse," Petra allowed. "I'm still glad I set you two up."

"Again, being in the same room when we met doesn't mean you're responsible for us being together."

"Haven't you heard that one law of physics? 'Mice at rest stay at rest until acted upon by an outside force'?"

"Must've missed class that day," Meadow said.

"Anyway, this is about what he represents to your subconscious." The rat leaned back and spread her arms. "Maybe it's a self-esteem thing? He's ambitious. You're not. He's on TV. You're not. You think you're not good enough?"

Meadow's whiskers twitched.

"Ultimately, he's coming in to your traditional, little life and threatening to uproot it, and it terrifies you. You want your relationship with Fib to be this safe, undefined thing. But the longer you're together, the harder it is to keep it that way."

"You're really one to talk," Meadow finally said with a huff. How many partners did the rat have? Four? Five?

"Hey, just cause I'm poly doesn't mean I'm not committed."

"Sorry. I just ... " Meadow sighed, trailing off. "What makes you think I'm not?"

"Because someone secure in their commitments doesn't worry as much as you do. And you worry all the time. Not saying you gotta marry the dude. Live apart, or don't. Whatever. You just gotta stop fearing the possibilities. Go with the flow."

"Is that all?" Meadow rubbed at her cheek.

"To start."

"That's ridiculous."

"Then why you doing that thing? Mm?" Petra went, mimicking Meadow's motion. "Granted, it's cute, but it's still a nervous tic."

Meadow dropped her paws. She knew Petra was probably right. But she couldn't bring herself to admit it. "Are you going to be criticizing me all day?"

"I'm only doing it cause I love ya."

The mouse blushed.

"You love me, too?" Petra said for her. "How sweet." Turning back to her computer, the rat squirmed and then scowled, reaching to turn the radio volume further down. It was barely audible, now. "Much better."

Collecting herself, Meadow said, "They're just gonna make you turn it back up when they get here. You can always put it on the country station. They like that, too."

"Girl, does this look like a honky holler?"

Back in the present, the rain was a steady, omnipresent din.

The storm was fully upon them.

FLASH!

Ba-boom-boom.

BOOM!

"Eek!" Meadow tensed.

"Come back to bed?" Fib murmured.

"I'm too wired. I won't be able to sleep ... "

"Who said anything about sleep? What you need," Fib said, touching his pink, sniffy nose to hers, "is a little distraction."

"I do?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm." Their mousey whiskers brushed. Fib delivered a dainty peck to her lips. "Luckily, I have just the thing to keep your mind off the storm until it passes." He was already tugging her back to the bed.

Meadow squeaked and went with him.

The rain was practically a monsoon, now!

I hope the roof doesn't start to leak again. There's that spot in the ceiling in the porch? And one in the living room. And--

"Ladies first," Fib said, gesturing for her to lay atop the mattress. _ _

Meadow, putting her phone by the lamp, sat on the edge. She worriedly glanced at the window before scooting herself to the middle of the sheets. She laid back, head on a pillow and folding her paws on her belly. She stared at the shadows on the ceiling.

"Comfy?"

"No."

"Well, don't worry. This is a fail-proof method of relaxation. A very ancient technique," Fib said with a flirty, little smile, switching off the lamp. The room plunged into darkness. "As old as life itself." The male harvest mouse crawled into bed, moving to fours above her.

"Must work pretty well, then," Meadow said, finally getting the gist. She felt her cheeks blushing hotly.

Flash!

Fib's figure was silhouetted by the lightning.

BOOM!

I felt that in my bones.

"Focus on me," Fib said smoothly. "My voice, my scent. My touch."

Meadow nodded. She reached up for him, desperate for a hug.

Fib let her arms bring him down, bodies flush, fur meshing.

The two mice cuddled for a moment.

"Now, to get you good and distracted?" Fib eventually said. "We gotta start with the extremities."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm. Take the ears, for instance. You know that old saying? Ears," Fib recited, nuzzling his muzzle against hers, "are the gateway to a mouse."

FLASH!

One-Mississippi, Two-Mississippi, Three--

BA-BOOM!

Meadow tensed.

Was the wind even faster, now? She could hear more creaking than before, too. Groaning. Straining. Or was that the bed? Could be the bed frame. Maybe.

"Maybe ... maybe I should check my phone again." Meadow decided nervously. "There could be a tornado warning. You know? Maybe just issued? I should really look." She started to reach for her phone.

"Ah-ah! You don't need to," Fib said, securing her wrists in his paws and pinning her arms above her head.

Meadow felt a submissive flutter. "Oh ... o-okay ... "

"Relax," he whispered, tongue meeting an ear-rim. "Everything's gonna be ... just ... fine."

Fib licked around the edge of an erogenous lobe. The left one. The flesh was thin and delicate, hot and smooth.

Lick-lick-lick.

His buckteeth took intermittent nibbles.

Nip-nip-nip.

All Meadow could hear were his breaths. Soon, her ears throbbed, sizzling with sensitivity. It became harder to think. The heat spilled to her face, leaving her hazy and flushed. She arched and moaned. "Oh ... "

"Mmm," Fib went as he eased up, nosing her face and neck. He let her recover for a minute before continuing, "Now, from one end ... to the other." A paw reached for her tail. He gripped it at the base and, close-fisted, began to stroke. The tip wiggled about, and he brought it to his lips, kissing and then outright suckling on it.

"Ah ... "

Mouse tails weren't as sensitive as mouse ears, but it still felt nice.

So nice!

While he played with her prehensile tail, Fib snaked his own between her legs, around a thigh, and toward her sex. The tip teased and prodded and then wormed inside her. Just a few inches at first. Then a bit more. And a bit more ...

Meadow arched, wondering how many inches he had inside her. "Ah!"

Toying with her her tail, Fib continued pumping his in and out, in and out of her. More than up for multi-tasking, he used his free paw to fondle her breasts.

"Can't leave these unattended," Fib said, caressing one. The other? He mouthed and kissed it, suckling on a sensitive nipple.

"Ah ... ah, hah!" Meadow whined, her pink paws going to the back of her boyfriend's head.

Fib traded one tit for the other, the one above her heart. While he was doing this, his tail withdrew from her pussy. His fingers took its place, purposefully grazing her clitoris before drifting and curling their way into her passage.

Meadow arched her body.

Fib used his weight to pin her back down. His muzzle found its way back to hers, and he whispered against her chin, "I'm so hard for you." His erection poked against her thigh.

Lightheaded with lust, she tilted in for a kiss.

Fib captured her lips.

Meadow spread her legs and wrapped them around his body.

Lips smacking apart, Fib shimmied his hips until his cock was kissing her flower. He teased her, glans moving up and down her vulva, making her think about his next move. Making her even more distracted. Distracted and desperate. Recalling the flustered thrill she'd shown at his earlier act of dominance, he breathed, "Ask for it."

"I ... I j-just ... "

He nibbled on her chin. "What was that?"

"I w-want you."

"To do what?"

Meadow whimpered.

"You can say it," Fib murmured. "It's okay."

Her fingers curled in his back-fur. "I want you to ... fuck me," she breathed.

"Good girl."

Meadow shivered hotly.

Fib, grunting with satisfaction, finally entered the other mouse. An easy, smooth motion. Raw and wild. Soon, his large, fuzzy balls were nestled to her loins.

Meadow heard a hammering. But, this time, it wasn't thunder. Is that my heartbeat? Or his? As close as they were, fused as one, maybe it was both. She didn't know. All she knew was she wanted more.

"More," she breathed.

"Mmm." Fib pulled back, then reversed course.

Hump!

Gentle and steady, back and forth. Fib thrusted into her.

Slick-slick-slick.

"Faster!" Meadow begged.

Immediately, Fib ramped up the pace.

"Mm ... mm," Meadow whimpered beneath him. "Mm!"

He was rutting her, now. In a huffing, ball-slapping way. The room felt hotter. Everything was burning up. She felt she might melt! Oh, the friction! Their genitals squelched. Slick and sweet. Fur flew, though Meadow couldn't see it. But, from experience, she knew it was. Shedding and swirling through the air.

The mattress bounced.

Her paws groped his furry ass, urging him on.

Meadow felt a desperation building inside her, an absolute need for release.

There was no outside world.

Just this.

Just us.

"Uh! Uhff!"

When her orgasm struck, there was a flash. The room lit up.

With a thunderous boom, Fib slammed to a hilt.

Meadow gasped, body convulsing as her sex spasmed. She clenched around him, wetter than any rain, head twisting about on her pillow. The pleasure was all-encompassing. Body, mind, and soul. "Ah, hah ... ahhhh ... "

Fib, at a lax, panting hilt, moaned against her cheek as he pulsed and filled her with his seed. "Oooh ... mmm."

They went quiet for a minute, holding each other and basking in the shared afterglow.

It was Fib who finally said, "Looks like made it through the storm, after all."

Meadow blinked.

Did we?

She'd almost forgotten about it!

Meadow's still-throbbing ears swiveled. Sure enough, the rain had stopped. The thunder was moving off. They were going to be okay! Everything was going to be fine ...

So ... why do I feel like I want to cry?

When she didn't reply, Fib asked softly, "You alright?"

"Yeah, it ... that was great ... "

In the orgasmic explosion, her emotions must've been flung to the fore like shrapnel. She tried to dodge them, push them back down. Tried to hide from them like she always did. But it was too late.

Meadow asked, with a vulnerable whisper, "Fib. You ... you won't ever get tired of me, will you?"

"What do you mean?" Fib asked, surprised by the question.

"I know I'm just a poor country girl, and I'm older, and I ... but I can't ... " Her words were getting stuck. "I don't want to lose you," she pleaded, voice wavering.

"Hey ... "

She couldn't hold back the tears.

"Meadow ... "

"I'm s-sorry ... "

"For what?" Fib asked, nuzzling her face.

"For being so insecure and nervous ... " Meadow sniffled. "All the time." She took a few ragged breaths. "And for killing the m-mood ... "

"You haven't ruined anything. You're perfect," Fib breathed intimately, kissing at her tears.

"I'm not ... "

"You are to me," he said patiently. "You'll never lose me. I love you ... so, so much."

Meadow closed her eyes, hugging him with everything she had. Arms, legs, tail. "I love you, too."

Fib kissed her, passionately.

Meadow kissed him back, losing her breath. "Mm ... "

When the kiss broke, they snuggled.

Sniffling again, Meadow smiled. "Are ... heh, are you going to tell your viewers to use this method for 'storm survival'?"

"Seek cover beneath the covers? Hmm. I think we'll keep that tip to ourselves," Fib said with a giggle. "Mmm ... " Growing limp, he was forced to pull out of her. Wriggling aside, he spooned up behind her.

Meadow sighed, feeling safe in his arms.

Fib was a balm for her existential fear and doubts. But, at the same time, being with him was also the cause.

I've never been this deeply in love with anyone. It feels wonderful, but ...

It's a little scary.

It was a paradox. _ _

Maybe Petra was right, and the solution was simple. She had to learn to be at peace with the 'what-ifs.'

She'd never reached the end of that storm dream because it wasn't about the ending. It was about the experience. The experience of being in love. How it can rearrange your life. How you should stop fighting it ...

Petra was wrong about one thing, though.

Fib isn't a tornado at all! He's more like a bolt of lightning, delivering white-hot, juicy, electric bursts of--

Meadow yawned.

As she drifted off to sleep, she knew better dreams awaited her tonight.