FSE

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Rebuilding

A Star Fox Fanfic

Commissioned by ProfessorWolf

Written by Limewah

18+

James McCloud took a deep breath - the last breath he thought he would ever take.

A spiderweb of cracks was growing across the viewport of his Arwing, and he could feel the shift in pressure as the vacuum of space came closer and closer to pulling him out.

"Hold it in, now!" Pigma's voice still taunted him through the crackle and hiss of the damaged Arwing comms system.

James tried to tune it out. He tried not to entertain the idea of that betrayer's voice being the last thing he ever heard.

Instead, he thought of his little son. Fox. His smiling face. He tried not to imagine the grief spreading along him when the news arrived...

Fox... please don't lose that smile.

He breathed in tighter, refusing to scream as the cockpit cracked and-

Cold.

So cold. His bones froze and his flesh tightened. He felt strangely wet, too. Weightless. A different experience to everything he was told space would be like.

His ears felt as though they were stopped up - he could hear the rush of blood through his body, or maybe it was the fluid around him.

He could breathe, too... a very gentle flow of oxygen was flowing through his snout, thanks to a mask attached to it. For some reason, he couldn't open his eyes either- like something was keeping them pinched shut, too strong to move them. His arms were hugging his knees, held there by that same force, holding him in a foetal ball.

So, he wasn't in space.

He'd simply jumped to another place entirely, like he'd woken up from a dream.

As his consciousness slowly re-established itself, he could feel that wet sensation gradually draining - there was a rushing sensation near his feet, where the fluids must have been draining. His body was gradually exposed to much warmer air, and the flow of oxygen increased too, allowing him to take deeper gulps of air. His mind no longer swum, and alertness spread through him, even if it was only a tiny amount. The overwhelming sensation in his body was a sense of comfortable relief, the sort that came after a long nap, or a rest after an intense workout.

The tightness around his eyes was finally relieved, too, and he was able to slowly, blearily open them.

Through a thick dry-ice mist, he could see a blue, curved, frosted sheet of glass was before him. There were some figures just past it, a series of silhouettes lurking just outside it.

A paw pressed against the glass, its dark pads squishing and spreading out just a little. It looked like a fox's paw...

Who were these figures? Their body language suggested shock, and hopeful anticipation...

There was a loud click, and a hiss, and air rushed in - clear, fresh air that made his fur stand on end.

His arms and legs regained their motion as his feet touched down with the base of the chamber. The cold mist spilled out from the chamber, obscuring those figures for a little longer as he sat down, dazed and spread-legged. His hands felt sluggish and concrete-heavy, but he managed to reach up and pull off the mask.

The 'fresh' air made his lungs spasm and made him cough.

"James!"

...Peppy?

It sounded like him, but hoarser, older...

If the silhouette that the sound came from was anything to go on, he'd put on some weight, too-

"Father?"

A younger voice, a voice almost like his, and -

The fog thinned out, and a face pushed through it, almost bashing right into James. He only half-flinched before the sight paralysed him.

It was like looking into a mirror.

It was Fox.

He was an adult.

He was crying.

And he was smiling that smile, the last smile he thought of before...

James embraced his son, and let the tears flow from his long-unused eyes.

James had to be supported - both by his old friend, and his now-adult son. His legs simply were too weak and shaky to make his way down the hallways of that seemingly-abandoned freighter all by himself.

"I didn't want to believe it," the hare said, his voice quivering. Peppy's fur felt coarser than it used to - a decade and a half of further service and stress would do that to someone.

"I knew you weren't dead," Fox said. "I just knew it. But... I thought I saw you before, I thought you were there when Andross..."

"Is he still kicking?" James croaked out.

"No... no, we got him."

"Good." James coughed. Speaking hurt his throat.

"Take it easy, James," Peppy cautioned him. "You might've just woken up but I think you're gonna need a lot more R&R!"

"Do you know how long it's been?" Fox asked, his face still hot with tears.

"How long," James asked.

"Almost ten years."

"Oofh... so, are we debt free, or did the Great Fox get repo'd?"

"We've still got it," Peppy laughed. "We haven't gotten rid of that millstone you gave us just yet, but we're making pretty good money in the mercenary trade."

"So, how long did it take for you to take over, Fox?" James asked.

"As soon as I was ready. Peppy insisted."

James scoffed and looked at his old friend. "You'd rather defer to a fox, huh? Prey instincts, I guess."

Peppy laughed. "Well... it was that, or leave the poor kid to spin out on his own."

"...Thank you."

James saw two Lylatians waiting for them just ahead, just before an airlock. A blue and red-plumaged pheasant with a sleek figure, and a stocky green toad. The bird's arms were crossed, and he didn't move. But the toad practically bounded over like a puppy, his eyes wide with excitement.

"Whoa! James McCloud?! Is it really him?"

"Yes -" James said. "It's really him."

"Oh, s-sorry sir!" the frog fidgeted and bounced on the spot. "It's nice to meet you! I'm Slippy!"

"Pleasure to meet you," James said, though he could feel his tongue getting a bit thick. "Sorry..."

"Don't be, father, it's okay." Fox hugged him around the shoulders. "I got you."

"Well, good to see this wasn't a trap!" the pheasant said. His tone was haughty and smug - James didn't care for it much. It reminded him of Pigma.

"Come on, Falco," Peppy said. "No need to be like that."

"What about Pigma?" James asked, unable to hide the contempt. "Is he still alive?"

"We haven't seen him in a while. Or the rest of Star Wolf."

"Oh, is he running with O'Donnell?" James scoffed. "That makes sense."

"He's an asshole," the pheasant said. "So he's in good company with them!"

"Do we have the spare suit ready to go for him?" Fox said, seeming quite businesslike. It seemed he was swallowing his feelings and acting decisively. Just how James hoped he would. "We need to get him back onto the Great Fox, now."

James could still feel Falco's eyes on him. Even though he was bleary and dazed, he could read that distrust so easily.

"Why'd you come?" James asked as he was gently leant against a wall. "If I was in your shoes, I'd have had the same assumption as your bird friend over there."

"I know." Fox said, shooting a glance over at Falco. "A derelict freighter, just floating in space, with enough power to keep a cryo pod and life support active for 15 years at most, and it just happens to appear on our radar near some traces of old Arwing wreckage? Yeah. It screamed 'trap'."

"But did he listen to me?" the pheasant snarked. "No. And it's not like he hasn't been baited like that before."

Fox bristled. "Can you blame me?"

"Nah, not really," Falco admitted. There was an interesting energy between the pair of them. The sort of bickering that comes when two Lylatians are very close to each other... intimately familiar with each other, with a deep well of care between them.

There was a curious mix of both interested pride, and possessive jealousy. Fox wasn't a child, of course, there was no reason to be leery of a potential boyfriend.

But why did the prospect of their bodies being pressed together, of a snout nuzzling a beak, of their gasps and groans, make him feel a whisper of jealousy... for being left out?

...in fact, why was he even thinking about that at all-?

"Father?"

"Hnh?"

"You're looking right through me. Are you okay?"

"Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. Just sort of... reminiscing." James watched as one leg, then the other, was lifted into a thick space suit - it smelled like it had been mothballed for about a decade.

"Sorry, we don't use this all that much," Peppy said. "It's only for a few minutes, once we get back onto the Great Fox you're not gonna have to go out in space for a while!"

"Thanks, Peppy," James said as he eased his arms into the sleeves of the suit. It was a long, laborious process, and there wasn't much in the way of chatter. There was a sense that James wasn't quite ready for that - that he needed rest, first. He needed time for his mind and body to catch up after all those years of stasis.

When James' eyes were open, he kept seeking out Fox.

He was even more handsome than James hoped he'd turn out to be.

James was glad he wasn't at the helm. Just the idea of being in a cockpit, reminded him of the spreading cracks, the hiss of decompression, and space viciously trying to encroach...

He managed to keep his breathing under control, in spite of it all.

The Great Fox was in beautiful condition - Fox had been taking excellent care of it. After a short reunion with ROB, James was lead to one of the spare sleeping quarters. It almost seemed like a hotel room with how well it was laid out - the bed looked very soft, there was a holodesk to sit at, and plenty of space to stretch out.

"Did you make the room up just for your old man?" James asked.

"Would you be hurt if I said no?" Fox half-laughed.

"Not a chance in Venom." James gave Fox a half hug as he managed to sit himself down on the firm mattress. Fox sat in a chair in the room, staying close by.

"Can I stay?" Fox asked. "Just... want to make sure nothing goes wrong. Can I get you anything?"

"Unless you've got a spare pair of sunglasses, not really," James chuckled. Fox smiled back at him.

"You can stick around, though," James continued. "I think I'd love to hear what you've been up to for the last, what, decade of your life?"

Fox sat back and sighed, like he'd just shrugged off an invisible metal cape. He looked exhausted, but relieved.

"Well... all right. Where to start..."

-

James was only awake for about ten or so minutes. His eyes kept slipping closed, the vision of his son becoming an orange-brown blur, his voice becoming more and more distant as the call of sleep - real sleep, not a cryogenic coma - became impossible to ignore, or resist.

He didn't even realise he was asleep at first. Fox was still talking to him, his voice even and constant and reassuring.

James didn't realise it was a dream when Fox approached him, and he felt a lot more awake and alert. Not even when he noticed Fox was naked.

Fox's body was firm and toned - he was in better shape than James had been at his age, with a tight stomach and broad chest. His cock was thick, and dangled at half-mast between his legs, swinging like a pendulum as he approached.

James just stared, dumbfounded, at his son, even as Fox continued to speak, the words basically nonsense, as he knelt down in front of his father.

James was hard as well. And his hands moved to cradle Fox's face, pulling him closer to guide Fox's snout around his member. Warmth spread through James' body, and he moaned and bristled.

There was nothing shocking or unnatural about it at that moment. It was what his son did. James slid his hand through the fur on the back of Fox's head, and pushed him in closer as the father's thighs straddled the son's shoulders. Fox's tongue lathered and slid around James' shaft, back and forth with a methodical rhythm that reminded James of the dark clubs he used to bounce around in when he was young, and stupid, and horny. When he had the domineering confidence to tempt a twink back to his crappy flat and have them bury their snout in his crotch.

He blinked, and that was where he was all of a sudden. The peeling posters on the walls, the messy room, and his date bobbing up and down.

It was still Fox, of course. His green eyes stared up at him, dewy and deep and so full of need, that James couldn't stop himself from finishing. He grabbed the scruff of Fox's neck and held him in place, making him writhe and gulp and quiver with each thick throb.

"Goood, son," James growled. "That's my boy. That's my Fox..."

His son was doing such a good job at cleaning him off, polishing his tool with soft, submissive moans...

James woke to an empty room, and sticky sheets, his body musky from all the tossing and turning. He sat up, and groaned, feeling a slight crick in his back as he swung his still-slightly-atrophied legs over the side of his bed.

He had already forgotten his dream. Though he did want to see Fox again as soon as he could.

-

James took to rehab pretty quickly. Partly because Fox promised that he'd assist with more of it once James could take more than 20 steps on his own.

"We might even do some training exercises together. But you probably won't be able to beat me, just to warn you... Falco's been keeping me sharp."

Psh. Falco.

Fox was cocky. James felt a desire to fix that; even though they looked like they could be brothers, he was still the dad.

James' plans to humble his son motivated him to work harder, to get his arms and legs and mind back into peak condition. Just so he could match up with his boy, see how experienced he really was.

Those months were also spent catching up with Peppy, too. The gulf in age between them hadn't exactly been slight before, but... it was strange seeing him older, greyer, with paler, duller fur. They found themselves reminiscing about the good old days, before the betrayal. Dancing around the mention of Pigma, their old 'companion'. James felt the urge to spit whenever that swine's name came up.

Strangely, he didn't feel the same about his old rival, Wolf O'Donnell. Star Wolf had made a name for themselves too, it seemed; at the time, James thought of them as a poor knock off of what he was trying to do, to muscle in on his mercenary turf. He assumed it was due to how their relationship ended.

It was always going to be a brief one from his understanding - rummaging around each other's bodies, sweaty and steamy inside James' cockpit, or Wolf's. Their dicks pressed against each other as they frotted, nose to nose, not quite kissing but enough to get the taste of whiskey and smoke on each other's breath. The sort of intensity that comes with a clandestine quickie, unbeknownst to either of their partners.

When James' wife got pregnant, he broke it off. He didn't want to risk losing what would be the best thing to happen to his life.

Wolf was understandably pissed. But James was grateful that, at least, Wolf attempted to sabotage his professional life rather than his personal one.

Wolf was there at the funeral too, offering distant, silent support to the newly widowed fox with a week-old infant kit.

James had that in the back of his mind even now. He wondered what a catch-up with Wolf would look like. How much older he'd look. What he looked like with that eye-patch.

If he still drank and smoked.

The thoughts stayed with him well after Wolf was brought up, and wouldn't go away until James was alone, rubbing his dick and imagining that deep, gruff voice growling into his ear as he fucked him, remembering the squeak of his paws against the inside of the cockpit, the painful pleasure with each slap-

Until he poured out a weak anti-climax. He couldn't really slow down when these thoughts overtook him, no time to process or edge, to let it build up for a better climax. It was like picking at a scab - only superficially pleasurable, but mostly leaving the frustration intact.

Those dreams of Fox continued, too, vivid and lurid and achingly arousing. He wanted to explore every inch of his son, climb inside his head and make every part of him scream with pleasure. James wanted to bury his face in Fox's neck and bite down, imagining the moans and gasps he'd make.

Before too long he was orgasming several times a day. He'd wake up from a wet dream with a still hard cock, and immediately deal with that morning wood. He would speak with Fox and fixate on his lips, and get horny again, barely able to hide it. He'd idly think of Wolf and remember the warmth and texture of his body, then he'd be off again.

He was insatiable, like he was young and in heat all over again. And his thoughts almost exclusively revolved around Fox, and sometimes Wolf.

Just being around Fox was driving him subtly wild. It scared him, but also excited him.

-

"You ready? Maybe this time you won't need a nap, old man."

There was a cockiness in Fox's voice that James had not heard up until now. He had mostly sounded concerned and caring each time James took on the High-G Trainer. So far, he hadn't been able to get to 6 Gs before blacking out, or having a panic attack.

This would hopefully be the time that changed.

Fox's slight snideness was a motivator. He wanted to put his boy in his place for being so patronising.

His cock throbbed at the thought of it.

"Ready to go, Fox," James said, bracing himself and focusing on his breathing. With a now very familiar buzz and hum, the centrifuge began to move, building exponential speed as the rush of speed began to press him back into the cushioned seat, like he was being wrapped in cling film. He squeezed and relaxed his legs, and breathed sharply, feeling his nose and jowls being pulled up and back. He could feel the thump of his heart, and his vision began to blur.

"Keep focused," Fox said, his voice reassuring once again. "Concentrate. Breathe. Relax. You're doing great. Let's go up to 5 now."

The moment of truth.

The cracks spread again. The alarms blared.

His ship was shaking apart, Pigma was laughing in his ear, Peppy was screaming, the cockpit was imploding, and-

"Stay with me," Fox said.

James gritted his teeth and grounded himself in the presence. Keeping the pieces of the Arwing in his mind together. He focused on Fox. He remembered what he thought would be his last thoughts at the time. Fox.

When he thought of Fox at the time, what was he remembering...?

It must have been the same thing he was seeing now - Fox, of age, nude, baring his chest and his pert torso, wearing nothing but a tight, olive green speedo that throbbed and pulsed.

"You can do it," Fox said, and the Fox in James' mind repeated it, with a sultry smile on his face.

"Can you take it a little further?" Fox asked, and the Fox in James' mind turned and slid the underwear down, exposing his rump, and his hole.

James was salivating through his clenched teeth, trying to keep the blood from rushing away from his head and towards his cock. He breathed. He clenched his pelvis and breathed harder, deeper.

"Harder... deeper...!" The Fox in James' mind moaned, throwing his head back as he pounded against James' cock with intense force...

James couldn't close his eyes, the force was keeping them open, but he held on tight. He knew if he got through this, Fox would be so proud of him. So grateful. Rewarding him with...

What was he thinking?

James focused back on the task, and the vision of Fox vanished back into his subconscious as the centrifuge slowed down, and with it the releasing exhalation of deceleration.

He breathed more deeply now, his lungs no longer constricted, and he sighed back into his chair.

"How was that, how high did we get..."

"We just hit 6 Gs on that last one!" Fox's voice came in through the earpiece. "You did great! Want to take a break?"

James looked down at the dark stain in his thankfully dark suit, between his legs. He was always leaking like a faucet. He didn't want Fox to think he'd pissed himself with fear.

"Yeah... I think that's enough for today. Let's go to the flight sim, next."

"Just let me use the bathroom first."

It didn't take long for James to cum, but it took a little longer to clean up.

The flight sim was very clearly an arcade machine. Fox hadn't even taken any of the paint off the thing. Brightly painted Arwings zoomed in a freeze-frame dogfight around the shell.

The fact that it was located in Fox's quarters was a further indication that it might have gotten a fair bit of recreational use too.

The flight sim was a damn sight more advanced than the arcade games from his youth. The graphics were frighteningly realistic, and the haptic feedback with the controls took the older McCloud right back to the old days. Or, well, he assumed.

He was still unsure about trying it himself.

It was almost like being out in space, but without the G Force. Something designed for civilians, but more robust than they should have been able to get away with. Fox told him as much.

It was nice having the training wheels on for it.

"How much did this set you back?" James asked. "Did you take out a loan for it?"

"Maybe..." Fox said, his ears flattening out with bashful shame.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," James said with a small, knowing smile. "Why don't you start? Set a score for me to beat?"

"Sure thing." Fox said. "Maybe I'll hold back a bit."

"Heh. You've gotten really snarky, haven't you?"

Fox smiled and shrugged as he opened up the pod and stepped inside.

James stepped around to the front of the machine, where there were two screens attached - one that showed the interior of the cockpit, and one that showed the screen Fox was looking at. Fox put a visor around his head - something to make the flat image pop in three dimensions - and put his hands on the controls.

"WELCOME TO THE COLD BATTLEFIELD OF SPACE," boomed the deep voice of the game's announcer.

James didn't feel like watching as the game kicked off. Instead, he wandered around to the back side of the machine, where the plug to the wall socket, as well as its guts, were connected. And he didn't quite understand why, but his hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out a small device. It was jury rigged from a blocky old personal data assistant, with new, more modern data ports jammed into it, and an extra processor soldered in. It switched on, green text against a darker green screen.

READY FOR CODE INJECTION, it said.

James didn't recall if he found this device, or made it. And he didn't know why he was even holding it now, or what brought him back here.

He was moving on a sort of dream-like autopilot; he was somewhat aware of what he was about to do, without knowing why he was doing it, or having any inclination to stop himself.

He unscrewed the back of the machine and opened it up. He didn't need to examine the many ports and wires to find his target as he slipped the cables on his device into the machine. He pressed the solitary working button on the device, and a reverse waterfall of text surged its way up the screen.

A series of muffled shocked yelps barely escaped the tightly sealed pod.

"Are you okay in there?" James' voice sounded less concerned than he thought he would sound. He didn't feel worried for his son.

There was no reason to be. Everything was happening the way it was supposed to.

James simply walked back around to the front, to examine his son through the twin screens.

The game had frozen in place, the simulated stars flickering and flashing in a strange seemingly random pattern. The frozen image flickered rapidly, the space-ships winking out of existence as the myriad stars twinkled and flashed, faster and faster...

James knew he could look at the flashes without any adverse effects. But he knew Fox was going through something far more intense.

The younger man was clutching the sim's controller, and he was clenching his teeth as if he was in the middle of a G-force training session of his own.

Then the image winked out entirely, bathing Fox in darkness. Fox stared blankly, dazed, his mind flashbanged by the intense display as the code injection completed.

The screen flickered back to life, a flowing monochrome spiral lazily twisting its way across the screen. Fox blinked, his brow furrowed with confusion, as his jaw slipped open. His nose traced little circles in the air as he followed the curvature and curl of the spiral. The shapes were reflected in his visor. His eyes went from blinking rapidly, to slowing right down, until he was staring for an extended period of time without blinking at all.

The tracing circles he made in the air went lower, turning into ovals as his snout dipped downwards. His eyes, still fixated on the spirals, slipped up behind the lids as his upper eyelids flickered some more.

Fox moaned softly, a long, soft 'nnnh'. It was a comfortable, sleep-drunk moan.

The sound made James' dick throb painfully hard.

He wanted to climb into the cockpit, and climb inside Fox.

But he knew it was too early for that.

Fox dipped his head lower, before it snapped back upright and he moaned again. He had a look on his face like he'd remembered something important, or that he was aware of what was going on... but it faded back into that neutral daze, and he went back to his sleepy attempts to follow the curling, flashing pattern.

James knew that it wasn't just a simple monochrome spiral. The star-patterns from before were still there, just hidden inside the curls of black and white. It was beaming a secret signal directly into Fox's hindbrain, installing new thoughts and feelings and desires.

James wondered what it must have been like from his son's perspective. Was he fantasising now? Could he see himself kneeling in front of his father's nude, erect body? Taking his cock into his mouth? Tasting his flesh?

James knew - even though he didn't know how he knew - that these first few sessions could not have any outside stimuli. It was not at the stage where James could give direct commands; the conditioning needed to be deeply ingrained before he could order his son around.

Another unconscious groan from Fox made James hiss as his cock jumped.

Eventually, the spiral cut away to the game's virtual score-board. Fox and Falco's names were alternating as the scores rolled higher and higher, until they finally reached the top, where a blank space intermittently flashed with ENTER NAME. Fox had taken the top spot again.

"Yes!" Fox pumped his fist. He had snapped awake at the speed of light, and was seemingly completely unaware that he'd spent the last several minutes being brainwashed.

That meant the programme was working great.

"There's no way I'm topping that score," James said, cool as a cucumber, as Fox emerged from the pod triumphantly.

"You sure you don't wanna go?" Fox asked with a smile.

"I'm sure," James said. "Playtime's over for now."

Fox crooked an eyebrow. "Weird choice of wording."

"Must've picked that up somewhere," James said with a shrug.

Where had he picked that up...?

Didn't matter.

The programme was well-designed. Falco, of course, attempted to beat Fox's score, but the new programming was carefully calibrated; the pheasant just played that arcade game as normal, none the wiser, his mind untouched. The programming was for Fox, and Fox alone.

If Falco was breathing down Fox's neck as he played, it wouldn't start up either. Their competitive sparring meant Fox was spending a lot of time in the machine. James made sure to stop by whenever he knew Fox would be alone. Just to watch him. To run his fingers along the image of his son on the camera, tracing along the slack jaw and imagining how soft and warm Fox's mouth would be, and how yielding it would be to his touch.

Soon... very soon.

One evening, James caught a glimpse of his son heading back from the game room, looking sweaty and elatedly exhausted.

Fox was wearing an undershirt with a slightly higher-cut hem. It showed off the barest thin strip of his muscular torso. His shorts only barely hung onto his hips, and James could see the dark waistband of his underwear. His fur glistened.

James couldn't wait any longer.

"Is that video game becoming a workout for you, kid?" James asked.

Fox scoffed, his hand sliding up his shirt and lifting it as he scratched. And scratched. And scratched.

The sight mesmerised James. He was salivating.

"Yeah, sometimes Falco and I get really into that game when we don't have many jobs upcoming."

He was showing his whole chest to his father - either flagrantly, or obliviously.

Either one would have been perfect.

"Mmhm," James said. "You're dressed like you're going out for a run."

He let his eyes linger on the bared flesh of Fox's hip. "Or maybe a hookup."

Fox laughed. "Nah, I'm just dressing for comfort."

He tugged down his shorts to scratch at his thigh. His underwear was barely even a jockstrap. The bright red pouch hugged his cock and balls, and there was a dark stain of pre-cum on it too.

James licked his lips. His son was horny, and oblivious as to how obvious it was. That much was clear. His boy had no shame.

"Are you up to much now?" James asked.

"Eh..." Fox shrugged. "I'm not sure-"

James felt the time was right to snap his fingers. When he did, Fox paused mid-gesture, his eyes dilating as whatever he was going to say next melted in his throat.

"Nnnhn..." his eyelids drooped, only barely remaining open. Hearing the sound unfiltered, close to him... James was baring his teeth with lust.

"Listen to your elder."

"I listen..." Fox mumbled.

"Obey your elder."

"I obey..."

"Foxes obey their elders."

"Foxes... obey..."

All of this felt like divine inspiration. The cause and effect of each command - the stiffening, the slackening, the total, dazed focus - was like slipping the last piece of a puzzle into place, over and over again. It was deeply satisfying, and James couldn't get enough of it, or stop himself from taking it all even further.

"Come to my room," James said.

"I will... Come to your room." Fox nodded, his slurred voice turning more resolute towards the end. He followed behind his old man dutifully.

James' heart was racing. It was happening...! He was glad he hadn't masturbated that day - it was important that Fox got everything his father had to offer him.

As soon as they were alone in James' quarters, and the door slid shut, James hastily brushed his paw against the latch on the door to lock it as his muzzle crushed against Fox's. James tongue invaded his boy's mouth, possessively aggressive, and Fox moaned right back, his arms still limp by his sides.

"Kiss me back," James breathed. "Do what you'd normally do with a hookup..."

"Yes, Father," Fox gasped, nodding quickly.

His paws gripped James' ass, making him yip and laugh with delight.

"That's my boy..." he kissed Fox again, harder, more hungrily than before. It was easy for James to guide the limp, puppet-like fox to his bed and throw him down.

James crawled on top of Fox and shuffled down his pants. Fox gasped as the air was forced out of him by James' weight. James shuffled forward until he was on Fox's chest, his meat only barely hidden by his jockstrap. He could see the hypnotised younger man's nostrils flaring, breathing in his scent.

With ferocious lust, James grabbed Fox by the back of the head to hold him in place as he ground his shaft against Fox's snout. Before long, Fox's mouth opened in a moan, and James shoved his still-clothed erection inside.

"You like this, don't you, you little slut," James growled. Fox moaned and nodded, his glassy eyes fluttering closed as his whole world became consumed by the need to consume James' cock.

It was so hard not to cum right then and there. James held on tight, pushing himself into Fox's face like he was trying to choke him out.

He was surprised by Fox's moans - it was strange hearing him so deeply submissive. The cockiness, the concern, the joy and the love... it was all gone, replaced with unadulterated, single-minded lust.

It suited him far better.

"You want to taste my cock without my underwear getting in the way, don't you?"

"Mmnhnnhnn..."

"Well, you've got to earn that privilege. Maybe if you satisfy me well enough this time... or maybe next time. Just get it warm and wet."

"Mmhmm.."

"What was that?" James pulled his cock back and Fox gasped deliriously.

"Yes, Fuh-father..." he moaned.

"Good slut." James started to fuck Fox's mouth more rapidly, each thrust and push making the mattress squish beneath them. Fox's body was going to be imprinted before long.

James was almost tempted to cum down Fox's throat. But there was another one of those un-known compulsions in his head now.

He wanted to fuck Fox's tight little ass. Loosen it up, for...

...For someone? It must have been for him. Who else could there be.

"You want to serve, Fox. Foxes are made to serve their superiors."

"S..serve..." Fox moaned in agreement as soon as the cock was free again. James peeled his damp underwear off. He wiggled his shaft just over Fox's head, dabbing a little squirt of precum over it just to taunt him. Fox licked it up reflexively.

"That's my boy... now." James leaned back and lifted himself up just enough for Fox to shimmy back.

"On your hands n' knees." James' tone was getting lower and huskier. Like he was trying to do an impression of someone particularly dominant, and he couldn't quite place it at that moment...

The thought left his brain immediately after as he rummaged Fox's pants down around his thighs. His cock brushed against the cleft of Fox's rump. James lifted Fox by his thighs and pushed forward. It was less unyielding than James, even with the relaxation that conditioning had provided.

"Have you been training?" James asked.

"Nnnhnyeah..." Fox moaned. "I bottom all the time..."

"Perfect." James pushed hard and hilted himself inside Fox. It was a good thing the chambers were generally soundproofed. Fox's voice echoed and reverberated through that room, almost shrilly. No awareness.

Fuck, he was so cute.

"That's my boy... that's my fucktoy." He was a little surprised to hear himself use that phrase, but something about its mouthfeel only brought him closer to his own orgasm.James thrust hard, looking down at Fox, watching how he squirmed and moaned, tongue lolling out, eyes glassy and unfocused. He was being fucked so hard he couldn't see straight...

James wondered if this was what he looked like when he...

The scent of smoke and sweat bathed James' face, thanks to the slightly damp and very musky jockstrap wrapped around his snout. Through his bleary vision, he could see a grey, shaggy shape looming over him. A black smear over one eye. A toothy grin and growl.

_"That's my fox... that's my slut." _

Fuck, he hated when Wolf called him that, but he also sort of loved it at the same time. Being degraded and laid low by a rival... it was exciting, narcotic. Claws raked along his thigh, hard. His cock dribbled pre all over his stomach, not hard but still sensitive even as Wolf's paw grasped it and squeezed it...

James squeezed Fox's limp cock, even as he got lost in the memory. Trying to mimic what he remembered of his encounters with Wolf, making Fox feel those pleasures he had felt all those years ago...

Why was it coming back into his mind again, now...?

The thought was dismissed when Fox let out a whine that made James' mind erupt with fiery lust. He growled, almost feral, continuing to play with Fox's limp dick as he thrusted. James leaned over Fox until his snout was at the back of his ear.

"Keep making those moans for me. That's my fox. That's my slut."

"Nnnhghh yessir...!" Fox whimpered. His cock started to get hard all of a sudden. James could tell the reason why. His thrusts were bumping up against something a little firm, but very yielding. He kept himself buried, grinding so his cocktip could tickle Fox's prostate. Fox's voice kept shifting in timbre and pitch. He buried his snout into the bed, his whole body quivering like it was about to fall apart. His cock, now hard as a rock, was dribbling pre all over James' fingers. And he was not about to let that go to waste. James released Fox's cock.

"Head up," James ordered sharply. "Open your mouth."

"Yes si-rmmgmph!" Fox was stifled by James' fingers. His mouth yielded to the taste of his own pre, his tongue lapping weakly at them as James redoubled his speed. Each thrust and slap made Fox moan around his father's fingers, his eyes rolling up into his head as the ecstasy overwhelmed him so completely.

James could feel his orgasm nearing.

"Foxes are made to serve." he said suddenly. A flash of inspiration, maybe.

"Nnnh...?" the dazed younger fox moaned, looking sleepily over his shoulder even as he suckled on his father's digits.

"Foxes are made to serve. Say it." James removed his fingers from Fox's mouth and grasped the back of his neck as he pistoned faster and faster, taking deep, drooling breaths through his gritted teeth.

"Foxes are made to serve," Fox moaned. "Foxes are m-muh... made to serve! Foxes...! Are m-made to...! Sssserve...!"

James came hard, unable to stop himself from roaring out with pleasure as he buried himself right to the hilt between his boy's soft cheeks. With each pulse of his shaft in that tight hole, each gush of seed, James cried out again. He clutched tightly to Fox's torso, his hand shakily moving down to stroke at Fox's cock again. It was still so hard he could feel the veins. He was so close to climax, he could tell...

"No cumming, Fox," James said. "Not yet. Foxes are made to serve, and you can serve me by not cumming. You need to earn that right, don't you...!"

"Yes Father!" Fox gasped breathily, bucking into his father's hand. "N-no cumming...!"

James' orgasm petered out, and he remained inside Fox for a little longer, his eyes closed, his breaths laboured. Their tired breathing gradually came into perfect synchronicity, Fox following and falling into his father's rhythms with obedient ease.

Shame crept into the back of James' mind as the fog of lust began to lift from it. What had he been doing...? How would Fox feel after the fact, when this trance faded? In fact, was it about to...?

He snapped his fingers next to Fox's ears. The clench and tension almost made him hard all over again. After that tensing up came a melting, as Fox slumped into the bed with a dazed groan."Forget everything you experienced," James ordered. "All of it is locked away in this submissive space. You won't remember a thing in the waking world. This is a secret that only the servant Fox gets to know about. Do you understand?"

"Nn." Fox grunted.

"I said-" James snapped his fingers again. "Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir..." Fox managed to choke out.

"Good boy. Forget." James snapped one more time for good measure. Fox tensed again, giving the cock one last squeeze ...

It felt incredible. As he pulled himself free and cleaned the cum from his cock, he thought about how he'd make use of it the next time he put his son under.

Fox's raised hindquarters slowly lowered, his hole oozing a little bit of James' seed. James watched him for a time.

The shame was still there. The pure _wrong-_ness of the whole tryst attempted to make itself known to him.

But James was able to push it down. Fox was his son. His property, in a way. Why wouldn't he make use of him in every way he desired?

Foxes were made to serve, after all.

His dick was hard again. That feral horniness tore his shame apart.

He approached the now-sleeping Fox, and began to stroke himself. His hungry gaze roved along Fox's back, and he thought of how he'd paint it with his cum before too long.

-

James put his son under almost every day. Sometimes it was just a quick test - a snap, an order to flash his cock, and then he was right back to normal. Other days it would be an insistence that he spend some more time in the flight sim, to train his mind even more.

Eventually James got bolder still, seeing if the programming could make more lasting changes to Fox. Like getting him to wear that skimpy outfit that drove James to fuck him in the first place all the time. Or to send him video messages showing off his workout routine and 'accidentally' letting his cock slip out of his jockstrap.

He acted like he was born to serve. Made to serve, in fact. Like all foxes.

The thought of what that meant for him never crossed James' mind.

One thing that did occur to him was that they only ever fucked in Fox's room, or James'. That could change. Maybe getting out would be good.

"I've been stuck on this ship too long," James said, his hand down Fox's pants, his fingers buried in his hole. "It might be nice to go to a bar. I wonder if Samuel's is still in Corneria City. Do you know?"

"We could check it out," Fox said, seemingly oblivious to the invasion. "Is it gonna be an old man bar, though?"

"What's wrong with a dive bar?" James asked. "That's where I had some of my best experiences."

It was where he met Wolf, for one thing. Their initial flirtations that snowballed into an intense, groping kiss in the alleyway beside, their clothes sheared from their sweaty bodies as their tongues intertwined and their cocks rubbed against each other-

Maybe he wanted to re-enact that. Yes, that would be fun.

"Will we bring anyone else along?" Fox said. "Falco knows some good spots if that's not-"

"No," James said, unable to mask the jealousy in his voice. Was he still carrying a torch for that bird? He'd have to make sure the next brainwashing session got rid of that. "Let's keep this between the two of us, okay?"

"Sure thing," Fox said. He seemed to pick up on his dad's slight discomfort, and put a reassuring arm around his shoulders to give a squeeze.

James wanted to fuck him right then and there.

He wasn't quite ready to sit in the cockpit of the Arwing, even in the backseat. The cracks in the glass kept appearing in his mind whenever he imagined taking a seat. So they took another craft, a boxier one that was far less sleek, but didn't hold the same memories for James.

He kept sneaking glimpses of that tight ass as they took the small shuttle down to the planet proper, and hoped that Fox was doing the same for him as they slowly walked from the bustling, clean city centre towards an area that was just a little dirtier - clearly gentrified now, but with a slight hint of the edge that had been sanded off it.

Samuel's looked exactly as James remembered it. Even the music was the same - rock from the older fox's era, that seemed to make the younger fox chafe a bit.

"This... isn't really my thing," Fox whispered to James as they entered.

"C'mon. You'll warm up to it."

The barkeep, a hairless cat, looked even more wrinkled and decrepit than when James saw him before. He stared at the pair with cataract-filled eyes. They narrowed slightly.

"James...? S'that you?"

"No... I think you're mistaking me for someone else." James gave a knowing wink to Fox. "Two double whiskeys."

"Uh, dad, I don't-"

James snapped his finger in Fox's ear, and he went stiff and still.

"You're having whiskey with me, kid, and that's final."

"Yes..." Fox nodded, slumping forward before catching himself from face-planting on the old teak bar.

They passed by the stinking regulars and headed straight for a booth in a snug corner of the dingy, dark bar, still smelling of stale cigarette smoke.

James couldn't hold off. He wanted to see what Fox's mouth tasted like after he had a sip or two of whiskey. Just as exquisite as he expected it would. As their tongues danced, James pushed forward and pushed his paw against Fox's bulge.

His other hand went up Fox's shirt to tweak a nipple.

The fox whimpered and gasped. "W-wolf..."

"Shhh." Wolf chuckled. "We don't want anyone hearing, do we? If we get kicked out before I make you cum, I bet you'll never forgive me..."

"Nnhng." James' tongue lolled out of his mouth as his head tilted back. He re-composed himself and looked back into Wolf's eye. The deep purple gemstone gleam illuminated that dark bar, and with it, James' whole world. He sank into that eye, and floated in a love-struck sea.

It was at that moment that he really fell for the wolf, and knew nothing and no one else would satisfy him.

He was made to love him. To serve him.

Fox was made to love him. To serve him.

"Foxes are made to serve," James reminded Fox, giving his nipple another hard tweak.

"F...fuh..."

"Shhh." James hushed him, letting the sharp and intoxicating scent of his whiskey-tasting breath wash over his boy. "We don't want anyone hearing, do we...?"

"No S-sir..." Fox moaned.

"Foxes are made to serve. Quieter."

"Foxes are made to serve..."

"Foxes are made to serve," James repeated.

"Foxes are made to serve Wolves."

The third voice caught James by surprise for only a moment. He felt the cushion of the booth creak under the presence of a new body. A familiarly scented presence.

A familiar violet eye.

"W-wolf-"

Wolf snapped his fingers, the metallic claws on the tips of his glove chiming like the sound of a fork on a champagne glass.

James felt very tired, all of a sudden.

"Hello James," Wolf purred. "I see you and Fox have been getting very well re-acquainted."

"Yes..." James nodded sleepily. He faintly was aware that Fox had spoken in unison with them.

"So everything's been working just as it should have." Wolf grinned wickedly. "Please, carry on. Pretend I'm not even here. For now."

"Yes," they repeated.

"And don't stop that mantra. Foxes are made to serve Wolves."

"Foxes are made to serve Wolves," the two repeated, mouth to mouth, their breath mingling as James pushed against Fox with more firm fondling.

"You don't mind if I smoke." It was a statement, not a question. James was too absorbed in pressing himself against Fox's snout and feeling his cock grow firm and hard in his paw.

Sweet cigar-smoke soon wreathed around their face - Wolf always had a taste for the expensive. One more thing that James held onto from their time together, that drove him feral, made it impossible not serve him.

Foxes were meant to serve Wolves, and serve he did as he pushed his rump against Wolf's fondling grip. James allowed Wolf to tug his pants down and slip his fingers between his ass cheeks. His body was his; Foxes served Wolves.

The foxes were on auto-pilot, their individual conditionings melding into a perfect chorus as they put on a show for their master.

"Seems like you brainwashed your boy pretty quickly," Wolf remarked. "Though, I guess he was already inclined towards men, wasn't he? And, I suppose you didn't have to work on making some false memories for him."

James reminisced as he listened to Wolf's voice. Remembering how good Wolf's body had felt against his, how no one else would satisfy him, how he loved getting fucked in dive bars... all those memories mixed with the faintest, subtlest feeling of floating, suspended in fluid.

It didn't remain in his mind long enough for him to connect the dots. He forgot what Wolf had even said. He was too focused on serving. On relaxing against Wolf's fingers and allowing his master to loosen him up.

"I've been waiting for this for so long, James McCloud," Wolf growled. "You and that delicious body of yours..."

"Thank you, Master," James said between gasping kisses. He was not surprised by how natural it sounded. Why wouldn't he call the wolf he served 'Master'?

"And it feels good to know that. Both of you love that your Master wants you. It's going to make it so much better to serve. So much more pleasurable."

"Yes, Mastngh...". James tried to speak, but his mouth was stopped up with Fox's eager tongue.

"Yes Master," Fox added shortly after.

"Both of you are going to make excellent pets - in fact, you already are. You wouldn't even dream of denying me anything, would you?"

James moaned and shook his head, pushing back against Wolf's fingers. They were up to the second joint, kneading and spreading to massage his muscles and tickle at his prostate.

"So... here's what we're going to do first, James..."

James waited with baited breath. Anticipating Wolf's cock inside him, being able to ride him the way he always remembered.

"You're going to watch me fuck and brainwash your son."

Inside James bloomed a cocktail of confusion, realisation, and shock, some deeply buried part of the old James realising the surreality and sheer wrong-ness of the situation...

His son, but Fox was-

Foxes serve Wolves.

The thought only lasted for a picosecond before the conditioning pushed it right down.

"Yes, Master, Foxes serve Wolves," James whimpered, his cock dribbling and throbbing at the prospect of being cuckolded...

"Don't worry, you're going to be involved. You're going to use all the triggers and conditioning to help him go even deeper under my control. To help him catch up with you..."

"Yes, Master, Foxes serve Wolves!" James had unconsciously been groping at Fox's ass with one hand and stroking his throat with the other. Fox had been mostly quiet save for those interjections, content to let the elders do the talking.

"You'd like that too, Fox," Wolf said - not as a question, just a statement of fact.

"I would like that too, Master, yes, Master, Foxes serve-"

James snapped his finger against Fox's ear, and his eyes rolled.

"Quiet, boy," James said. "We're going to find a better place to brainwash you."

Wolf whistled. "You've taken to this role better than I imagined you would."

He pushed his finger against James' prostate again, and the fox groaned and stiffened.

"C-cumming Master-!" He croaked, unable to stop his cock from jumping and spurting, rapidly creating a dark stain between his legs. Fox whimpered and ground against it. The wet smearing sounds were like music to their Master's ears.

Wolf growled with delight, pushing in deeper and continuing that unrelenting assault on his asshole.

"Welp, guess we're gonna have to take this to a stall, aren't we?"

Wolf slipped his fingers free from James' rump, and slipped out of the booth. The two lovesick, mind-controlled foxes followed close behind. No one really noticed them slipping in - that, or they didn't care enough to notice.

That was part of the reason Wolf had lured them here specifically.

That, and the toilets were kept clean for encounters like this.

James sat right on the floor of the stall, his back against the toilet, his hands cradling his boy's face from below. Fox's eyes were rolling and twitching, especially with each snap of James' fingers. He was bent forward, his hands on the rim, as Wolf thrust into him, over, and over, and over.

"Good boy..." James cooed huskily, getting Fox to return his eyes to his. "You're doing such a good job at serving Wolf, just as foxes like us are made to do. And it feels better the more you do it, it sinks into you and etches itself into your brain, permanently..."

He snapped his fingers again. "Pleasure."

"Annhnn!" Fox let out a desperate, pleading moan and pressed his ass back against Wolf, and his pounding hips. Each jiggling slap against the younger fox's hindquarters echoed through the tiled room. Wolf's head lolled back as he growled with satisfaction, taking another drag from his cigar and adding to the sweet, acrid fog surrounding them.

"Pleasure," James repeated, and snapped again. "Foxes are made to serve wolves."

"Fu...ffuhhh ffoxesss... ss-sserrve wolves..." Fox slurred, drooling into James' hand as his head sank to the left.

"Pleasure." Another snap coaxed out another spurt of pre-cum in Fox's already soaked jockstrap.

James hadn't been allowed to touch himself since he came. But he was useful enough as it was. Since Master had delegated the role of brainwashing Fox to him, Wolf could just focus on enjoying his son's tight hole with no distractions.

"You warmed him up good, didn't you, James?" Wolf bent forward to catch James' eye as his smoky breath wreathed the back of Fox's neck. "He takes my cock like a champ..."

"Just as you wanted, Master," James moaned deliriously.

"Might have to get a friend or two to join next time," Wolf said, motioning towards the glory holes cut into the surrounding walls of the cubicle. "It almost feels like a waste of your talents to keep you two to myself."

"Whatever you want, Master," James said, giving another snap to make Fox clench and twitch, and pull another moan from Wolf's lips.

"You getting close, Fox?" Wolf grabbed the top of Fox's head and tugged, and Fox gasped and wriggled with pleasure. "You getting close to making a mess the way your daddy did?"

"Yes...s.. Mm-mmuh Master..." Fox sounded like he was suffocating, his voice was so breathless and quiet as he begged weakly. "Pl...please..."

"That's the spirit." Wolf pulled back again and gripped tighter onto Fox's cheeks before picking up the pace once more. "Get him closer, slut."

James reached down to grip Fox's cock through his bulging jock, making it twitch and throb. It was warm, so incredibly hard through the soft, damp fabric. His other hand remained near Fox's ear.

"Pleasure," James said, snapping and eliciting deeper, dizzier moans. "The closer you get, the more pleasure you feel...and when you cum, you'll cum out what little resistance you have left. Any little distractions that might keep you from serving wolves to your fullest extent... just like your father. You want to get rid of that, don't you?"

"Y-yess Fatherrr..." Fox's eyes were white, his pupils rolled up into his head as his eyelids flickered. He was practically gone already. All it would take was just one more little push to tip him fully over the edge and break him forever.

There was no hesitation in his mind.

"What's left of your old life is about to vanish forever. In just a few seconds."

Wolf was thrusting faster, close to the edge himself.

"Nnghhhhcumminggg...." Wolf growled, sounding strangely vulnerable... if there was any moment to turn the tables, it would have been then.

James wouldn't dream of it.

"In five..."

Wolf buried himself in Fox as he nutted, letting out a deep, abidingly pleasured moan.

"Four..."

James' hand lingered near Fox's ear. His son's glassy gaze met his. He stroked faster.

"Three..."

Fox clenched against Wolf as his seed flooded into him, his tongue lolling out.

"Two..."

Fox's gaze seemed to regain focus for just an instant. As if he was becoming aware. As if there was the barest chance of him regaining control...

"One. Cum."

James snapped his fingers, and that was extinguished as Fox let out a cry so immense that it almost sounded like he was in pain. He humped and bucked, his cock erupting. His cum soaked through his underwear and pooled into James's palm.

After that first cry, Fox could only whimper and whine, his voice gradually dropping from its breathy heights to a lower, guttural, zombie-like moan.

"Nnngh." Wolf growled, breathing more smoke over the two of them. The scent was not enough to overpower the musk of the McClouds' cum. Fox coughed a little, his dick still dribbling. Both father and son were still soaked.

"Good boy," James moaned. "That's m...my boy..."

"That's my fucktoy," Wolf corrected him, reaching down to grab James' gaze and forcing him to stare into his one good eye. James listened gratefully, glad to have been corrected.

"Now, fucktoys... I think I should take you back to my place for a little while. Just to make sure all of this conditioning is really going to stick. How'd you two like to play a game together? You'd love to."

"We'd love to, Master," the foxes said in breathless harmony.

--

The cockpit was only built for one person, but that just meant Fox had to sit on James' lap, grinding into his bulge.

He would have been aroused even if Fox wasn't there. The spirals on that all-encompassing, immersive screen awakened deep, powerful waves of electric arousal. He had never played the flight sim, but now that he was experiencing it with his son, he faintly recalled a feeling of floating as these same impossible shapes were beamed into his hind-brain.

They could both read the messages within the screen. The hidden conditioning that was becoming as natural and unconscious as breathing to them.

"Foxes are made to serve wolves."

"Foxes are made to serve wolves."

While Fox ground on James' cock with slow, wave-like motions, James stroked his son's dick. Their chanting continued.

The chair rocked back and forth, its haptic buzz concentrated right on the older fox's rump, pushing upwards as if Wolf was starting to work his way into him again.

He didn't remember the spiderweb of cracked glass anymore. He didn't remember the sinking of his heart, or the horrible shaking, or the bracing for the end.

That memory, and its scars, had faded away without him even noticing them.

The only memories he had now were of his master. The wolf that a fox like him - like his son - were meant to serve.

He could see a hint of his son's reflection in the hypnotic auroras before them as they ground and stared and sank ever deeper into the conditioning.

Fox's body slumped against James' like a limp puppet. His mouth hung ajar, his lips curled upwards, his tongue lolling back and forth.

He hadn't lost that smile.

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