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An Odd Thing to Say

Chapter Three

> If I told you what has happened over the past few years, you would not believe it, and you would be totally justified in not believing it.

> Are you saying that just to tease?

> I guess so.

> Not much given to commitment, are you?

> I'd stop short of saying that, but I do sometimes display those tendencies.

> Christ, are you on trial or something, or what?

> Always.

"And one, two, three and four, now dance."

She really was a vixen... tossing her hair, gyrating her hips, and then she did this amazing kind of belly dance that made her tits bounce wonderfully. Had she gone any harder, she might have knocked herself out!

Best of it all was that she was dancing for him... dancing on him. He did his best to keep up, grinding against her, first face to face, then she turned around and pressed up against him.

"Not bad," she said, swaying her hips from side to side. "Now put your paws right there... yesssss," she cooed.

It was an out of body experience. And it had resulted from something so routine, so innocent. Just a few questions about the Cotillion, about how to dance to the newest hits, and then she had groaned, dragged him to the living room, and started to show him the ropes.

He learned fast, she said. It was the closest thing to a compliment she'd given him in he didn't know how long. Soon, Nick had become adept at the basics, and some of the fancier moves, and now, he needed a partner. Fortunately, Sarah said, he had a pretty damn good one.

She turned to face him over her shoulder. Smiled, showing a dimple in her cheek.

"You're getting the hang of it," she said. "That's it... be confident, maybe a little forward, and don't be afraid to have fun with it."

She gave her hair a toss and reached back with her tail to lightly bat at either side of his face. He grinned sensually--in a way he didn't know he was capable of--and allowed his paws to begin to explore her hips, her toned trim belly, even brushing against her heavy perky tits.

Maybe that surprised her. Or maybe it was because the song ended. Either way, Sarah shimmied out of his grasp, did a cute little hip shaking thing, and spun her way to the other side of the room.

It was then that her eyes flickered down. Settled briefly on the kit's crotchal region.

Immediately Nick lost his confidence and flushed. Of course he was getting hard--how could he not? Yeah, she was his sister, but she was grinding on him and she was hotter than fuck--and she had just fucked! When they were so close, he could smell the sex on her, so of course he responded naturally. He couldn't control it!

He began to sputter excuses, but Sarah just laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Word to the wise, kid, don't fake it around the girls," she said. "If you do get lucky at the Cotillion, and things get hot and heavy, a pretense won't last long. Maybe half a handjob, or a lick or two if she's really timid, and it'll all fall apart.

"Unless it's one of those really good Bad Dragon ones," Sarah mused. "But any half-decent cowgirl will bust one of those right quick. Believe me, I know."

"I--what--no--TMI!" was all Nick could splutter, as Sarah made her way out, saying something about a hot date with a wolf pack.

And none of what she said made any sense at all, Nick thought, looking down at himself. He was average, barely average if the Internet was to be believed--and the internet never lied. So the fact that he was already jutting across his thigh, barely half hard, wasn't remarkable.

And Sarah ought to know that, Nick thought. The number of cocks she'd seen, and touched, and tasted, and fucked--she'd been up one side of the bell curve and down the other.

She knew that he was puny. And he was puny, after all. Wasn't he?

Calc 2 done. Physics 2 done. Chem was a bit of a dickens, minus the ens, but eventually he got through that too.

And he didn't know why people griped about it, Nick thought to himself. Sure, schoolwork was a little bit annoying, but that was mostly because it was so easy. Things that weren't challenging just weren't fun... if he wanted to sit back, relax, and be entertained, he'd be on the couch in his skivvies, eating potato chips and drinking milkshakes.

He didn't want to do that. He didn't want to do that at all, ever. His dad was a businessman who traveled the world and his mom was, or once was, a model. They lived hard and worked hard, and the only drawback was that they were never at home.

If he ever became a father... if he ever went that route... he'd make time for his kids. But he'd still work hard and live hard. He wanted to be something... be someone.

Even Sarah seemed to have the same DNA, Nick mused. He created a crease in his slacks, sprayed on some starch, and then ironed it until it was razor sharp. She often joked about fucking around and being a whore--well, they weren't jokes--but he could see it in her. If she didn't know something, she'd find out, and it was the rare vixen who could swap out her truck's manifold with a tool chest and a manual.

Come to that, Nick thought, as he buttoned his shirt up and began to tie his tie, she occasionally let her dreams just sort of... slip out. Sometimes, she'd mention something about moving overseas, or having six kits, or getting her pilot's license, or running an ultramarathon. And then she snapped at him and went off to one of her boyfriends' houses.

What Nick felt, but didn't quite know how to put into words, was that Sarah used sex to avoid having to live with herself. She wanted to do big things and she _did_work at them--occasionally--but she was too scared to put the bullshit aside and drive towards her goals.

TL;DR: Sure, you can fuck around if you want to become an international pilot and mother of six. But you can't do it that much and you can't let it get in the way of more important things.

Nick ran a hand through his hair. That was all he needed to do to get it to behave, that was all he ever needed to do. He looked in the mirror and...

He looked okay, he guessed. He was still skinny, but he had a decent frame and muscle was starting to line his form. He had decent bone structure and his burnt umber coloration--whatever an umber was--suited him.

Well, he was all set for the Cotillion. Homework done, dressed up, dapper, dick still hard from the dance and watching the behind-the-scenes specials of Big Wet Vixen Tits Volume 5, he only had... one... problem.

How the fuck was he going to get to the dance?

A horn outside--Nick looked out the window and there the tiger was, in his Tesla, grinning broadly. In a minute the kit was outside, then in the passenger seat of the expensive car.

"Sometimes, I swear you're like an angel," Nick said. "I forget something, or I need someone, and bam, you're there."

"An angel? Me?" Alex said. He stamped on the pedal and darted out of the neighborhood. In seconds they were on the highway, passing cars, motorcycles, easily hitting 150.

"I wish I could say that. I'm not that good of a person, and I certainly don't come from heaven."

There was a peculiar sadness about the way he said it. And something about the way he smiled... it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I don't like that face you're making," Nick said. "You okay, man?"

"As okay as I'll ever be," Alex said in a final sort of way. Nick knew not to press.

They were soon at the entrance to the school. Nick tried to search for words--found none--and opened the door to leave.

"By the way, I meant to ask you," the tiger said. "This is the Cotillion... so you're a sophomore, and you look kind of young... are you really, actually eighteen?"

"Eighteen? Me?" Nick coughed. "Yeah. Totally. Absolutely. Yeah, I'm eighteen."

"Oh," Alex said. He looked at Nick for another moment, then shrugged and grinned. "In that case, happy hunting!" he said, before speeding off into the night.

The disco ball dangling from the ceiling, suspended above the center of the auditorium, was a relic of a time past. But the sound system and tracklist were bleeding edge. Thousands of watts of power, songs that came out today, it was everything a kit could hope and dream for at a highschool dance.

And the girls... fuck.

They were young, they were tender, and noice. And, like the kit, they were totally, absolutely eighteen.

There were so many of them, all shapes and sizes, all species and castes and creeds. Canine, feline, vulpine, and everything in between, even a handful of humans. Tall girls, small girls, skinny girls, thick girls, a couple of girls who weren't girls, but Nick only had eyes for one.

Tori. She had been his crush since the first grade... she had been _everyone's_crush since the first grade. She was sweet and cute, with her black fur and white underbelly, and the tiniest little kittycat nose. And recently, she had started to fill out.

He watched her for a moment, arms crossed, leaning against the side of the auditorium. She was dancing, chatting and laughing with her friends, flipping her sleek dark hair this way and that.

He could watch her all night, he realized. And for the rest of the year, and their lives, as she grew up, grew away, did her own thing; he could watch that all from a distance. Or he could take a fucking risk, and make a fucking difference.

Nick cleared his throat. Made his way across the auditorium and thought back to what Sarah had told him.

"Be confident, be forward, and don't be afraid to have fun with it," he said to himself. "Alright, let's try forward."

He made his way to the group of girls. Placed his paw on the small of Tori's back and made his way next to her.

Quick. A joke. An icebreaker. Anything.

"I'm not going to lie, I don't have anything witty to say," Nick said, smiling broadly. Lucky that he was a kit of a fox, not a stud of a tiger, or else the expression may have terrified the ladies. He then looked directly at Tori. "I love this song. Come on, let's dance!"

At first, Tori seemed confused. Then surprised. Then confused again. Nick? The quiet, kind of awkward kit? Now he was asking her to dance? She seemed to look him up and down and realize that he wasn't a skinny little sniveling thing anymore. He was honestly kind of... hot.

"Well... alright," Tori said. She lowered her eyes to hide that--was she blushing?

Nick couldn't be sure. The next second, she had pulled him to the dance floor.

Fuck. What if she didn't dance on him? He'd only practiced grinding with Sarah--his own sister--and he didn't know much beyond that. Fortunately for him, Tori approximated what Sarah had done, more or less... she wasn't as good as the vixen, but that was fine. That was great!

In moments, Nick was on cloud nine... dancing, grinding with his crush. Better yet, people were starting to watch and take note. Nick? And Tori? Really? Somehow that was as empowering as actually dancing with her!

She turned around to face him, straddling his knee. She seemed flushed--excited--certainly enjoying herself.

"Don't be afraid to have fun with it," Sarah had said--and when he remembered that, Nick turned and reached back with his tail to lightly bat at either side of her face.

She giggled in that. Turned around and ground against him, doing the same with her smaller feline tail. The song then changed and so she settled back against him.

She was skinny and fit, no doubt about that, but when her ass pressed against him and she wiggled, she jiggled. Nick felt his paws explore her tummy, her thighs, almost but not quite crossing that red line where the chaperons would stride over and tell him to keep his hands to himself, at least... here on the dance floor.

She turned around again. Slowly danced with her paws hooked around the back of his neck, his paws on her shapely hips. He looked her up and down--quick, think of something entertaining to say.

"How are your grades doing these days?"

Tori blinked. "Uhm, pretty good, all As so far, anyway. Uhmm... why...?"

"I'm not too sure about that. I see a couple of Cs," Nick said.

When Tori looked confused, he pointedly looked down--then back at her. She grinned, both entertained and intrigued. She then leaned forward to whisper into his ear.

"They're Ds, thank you very much." Her hot warm breath made his fur stand on end. And from here, he could smell both her perfume and the arousal growing underneath it.

He ran his hands up and down her hips. Reached back to give her a light smack that made her jiggle wonderfully until her ass settled into his paw. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi and then he had to let go--and the chaperons, counting along with him, backed off. Rules were rules, after all.

"Hey, uhm..." Tori said, twirling a lock of hair in her paw, "do you want to go... to Third Base?"

Nick was taken aback at that. Third Base... that was literally the third base of the ball field behind the auditorium, where it pressed up against the school building. It was the Amsterdam of the school, the one place where there were no three-Mississippi rules, where you didn't have to pretend to not touch your partner. At Third Base, you could go to third base... and even beyond it. There were condoms freely available and while there were chaperons there, they turned a blatant blind eye to anything and everything--their only purpose was to stop, you know, rape.

So, if Tori was asking him to go to Third Base...

"Hell to the fucking yes," Nick said. He looked Tori up and down, locked eyes, and then kissed her for the first time.

Hooooooly shit was this getting real.

It was a little nippy outside. That meant that whenever he looked over at Tori, giggling and walking at his side with his arm draped around her shoulders, he saw D-cup jiggle, and pokies.

Now they rounded the corner to Third Base. A handful of chaperons--PTA members mostly--offered them condoms, but Tori waved them aside and said something about them not being needed.

Nick felt himself twitch hopefully at that.

There were at least six other couples at Third Base. Some of the women were pressed up against the wall, being railed hard, others were bent over and fucked like bitches, and the smell of sex was hot and heavy in the air.

Holy shit.

Tori drew close to him. Used a velvet soft paw to push him back against the wall and giggled, stroked at his chest.

"Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick," she cooed. "I'd never thought I'd be doing this with... you know, you."

Once upon a time, Nick might have responded with something awkward. An attempt to be witty, an effort to one up her. Now he just grinned and ran his paws up and down her body until--finally­--they found her breasts.

He began to grope her... gently at first, timidly. Then he saw her breathing harder and moaning, pressing herself into his paws. She was getting into this--so he became more forward, almost forceful until he had pulled her tits out of her dress. He leaned forward to kiss her over her chest, smothering his face into her tits, until she pressed him back again, grinning lasciviously.

"You need this, don't you, huh, Nick?" she murmured.

"Feels like you do too," was all Nick could say, as Tori began to sashay down, lower and lower, until she was kneeling before him. She squatted in front of him without an ounce of strain or struggle to balance, looking up at him as she undid his belt.

She winked at him, then, as she took the leather strap off. Took his zipper in her teeth and tugged it down. His pants followed a moment later and then... and then...

She literally could not fathom what she was looking at. Usually Nick was a solid, if mediocre ten inches, so now with his dick rock hard and ready, he had to be pushing a foot, but she seemed to look at him as if he was... inadequate.

Tori seemed to shrug. She took him into her paws as best she could, since she couldn't quite close one around his shaft, and began to stroke at him. She leaned forward and began to kiss around his groin, as if searching for something. A catch, a strap, glue, bandages, what the fuck.

This was... real...

She looked up at him. Then at the massive cock right in front of her face, so thick that it blocked most of her vision, so hot it radiated warmth. It was... real...

"Welp then," Tori said, standing up, "it's been a lovely evening, Nick. But word to the wise, next time you're going to dance, wear an actual extension. And this time, make it a two footer."

She turned on her heel and strode away, leaving Nick blueballed and alone, struggling to pull his pants up and zip them before anyone else could see his apparently puny dick.