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PIT STOP (A WALTER FOX STORY)

(WARNING: The following story contains to sexual activity between humans and sentient alien animals. Please do not read this if you are a minor or are offended by such material. But if neither is the case, enjoy.)

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story follows the stories "The Furry Sex Scandal" and "The Furry Sex Scandal: The Aftermath.")

Here is an experience I wish to share with you, dear reader. Or perhaps I am writing this not so much to share with you as to confirm to myself that I really could have-and did-behave as I did in this account. Those who are familiar with me already know me as a space alien fox-person who is a member of PERC, or Planet Earth Research Center, who is a sociologist from my home world whose job it is is to explore human society.

As might be expected, I have a lot of contact with human "furries", among whom my species happens to be very popular, and a good portion of whom are homosexual males who have a sexual attraction to me. Unfortunately for them, I have no such feelings toward them, and in any case if I did have sexual contact with any humans it would very quickly be the end of my career at PERC, and I would be deported back to my home world the next time the outer space link between our two worlds would open again. Which makes my behavior in this account all the more shocking, as much to me as it undoubtedly would be to you.

It happened one evening when I had done a day's work at PERC base and was hoping to go to bed for the night. Then I suddenly got a call on my portable phone from the Director of PERC, whom I knew had been on a trip to see some Earth authorities in Washington, D. C. and was supposed to be coming back this evening. Was there a flight delay? And if so, why bother calling me about it? I assumed there was something more serious than that when I answered my phone, and I turned out to be right.

"Walter, I'm sick and I need a ride back to base!" he said in a voice so awful I knew he was not kidding.

"Shall I bring a doctor with me?" I replied, alarmed.

"No, no," he said. "I've got severe diarrhea, a waterfall out of my anus. I probably ate something wrong on the plane or back in Washington D. C. Alert the infirmary and have them on standby and get over here right away!"

"Where are you?"

"In a men's restroom at the airport, where do you think?" Then the Director paused and added, "It's being watched by airport security, and I arranged for a security officer to come meet you at the airport when you arrive, so they can take you there."

The Director gave me the gate number of the commercial airline he had used, and I then used the PERC intercom to alert the doctor on duty and then the motor pool to reserve me a vehicle. Everyone scrambled to obey when I mentioned the Director's name; nobody (including me) liked him much, but he was still our Director. Besides, any sort of medical situation involving a PERC member away from our base was a serious matter; human doctors and hospitals could not be expected to do much for us when they were unfamiliar with our alien physiognomies, so we had to take care of our own health matters. If one of us had any serious medical emergency too far away from PERC base, and we could not get back in time, we would be doomed.

This is not to say there were no humans who could give us medical care, but they were strictly among the Earth authorities, which is why it was relatively safe for the Director to visit them many miles from our base. However, they were of course restricted to a few locales, and were not necessarily meant for us to call on them unless we were actually on a visit to any Earth authorities. I realized how fortunate it was for me, who spends a lot of time away from PERC base among human society as my duty as a sociologist, to never have had any serious medical problems occur during any of my travels.

So I ran to the motor pool and a car had already been prepared for me, and when I reached the gate of the PERC complex, the gatekeepers had already opened it for me. I myself was in a state of agitation as I went out to the highway to get to the airport.

(You may be wondering, dear reader, what the reference I made to shocking behavior on my part I made at the beginning has to do with what I am describing so far. Please bear with me, and I assure you that your patience will be well rewarded.)

It was already late in the evening when I drove out from PERC, so I did not have to worry about rush hour traffic on my way to the airport. Even then, however, it took nearly an hour to get there, and the airport itself was more full of traffic than I expected, and it took a while to reach the entrance door to which I was supposed to go. Fortunately I was able to stop and park where I was to pick someone up, and when I left the car I got the usual stares from the humans surrounding me. I was accustomed to that sort of behavior, of course, as I am a celebrity of sorts, being a space alien talking fox. Then I remembered that another space alien talking animal was inside the terminal, and feeling quite miserable, so I rushed inside. Almost immediately a uniformed female security officer came to meet me.

"Mr. Fox?" she said. "You heard the news about your leader?"

"That's why I'm here," I replied.

"Then follow me," she ordered, and I went after her. The humans who saw us looked dismayed and gave us a wide berth when we went past them, which suited me fine because I was in no mood to deal with the public. We eventually reached a hallway where more security guards had cordoned off the doorway to the mens' restroom. Without saying anything to anyone I walked inside.

There was a hideous stench as I went in, worse than what I knew would have been the Director's normal excrement odor. Since it was so strong and nobody else was around, I knew that it was coming from the Director, and his bowels must have been hideously affected. I saw one closed toilet stall door and went up to it, but before I could knock, it swung open.

I walked in and saw the Director sitting on the toilet, hunched over and looking absolutely miserable. He looked up at me and recognized me, and said, "Walter, I'm ready to go-wait..."

I jumped back out of the stall as I was hearing diarrhea squirting out of him, and the stench redoubled. "Go get a plastic bag or something," he commanded, and I scooted out of the restroom, back among the security guards standing outside the restroom. Fortunately I also saw a janitor among them, already setting up a sign saying the bathroom was out of service, and I asked him for a plastic bag which he quickly handed me before I went back into the restroom.

I waited outside the stall until the Director called my name, and I went back inside. He was still seated but trying to stand up, so instinctively I reached and grabbed him under his arms, and lifted him partway into a standing position. But he stopped abruptly and reached for the toilet paper dispenser, removing a quantity of paper which he used to wipe himself. Not a pleasant thing to have to watch, but then I saw him wince in agony while he was doing so, so I realized how minor my problems were compared to his. The diarrhea splatters upon his rump, his trousers, and the toilet around him added to the unpleasant atmosphere.

After he finished wiping himself, he struggled to pull up his trousers. Even if I were willing to do so I was unable to assist him in this task, for my arms were already occupied with holding him up, and he was heavier than I had expected. He got his trousers up and buttoned, and I half-carried him out of the stall. Luckily he was wearing an outfit with dark brown and gray coloring so any excrement stains would not be too visible. Even more luckily, the garbage bag I had obtained was large and black, so I unfolded it and positioned it as a sort of shroud around the Director's backside, and we shuffled our way out into the hallway.

Once we were out of the restroom, two security guards stood outside the restroom while the others formed a ring around us. As I started escorting the Director through the airport back to where our car was parked, I noticed the janitor walk into the restroom, dragging his cleaning equipment, and it made me think of the time years ago when we animal-people were still a novelty on Earth, and the Earth authorities were too unsure about us at the time to know if we might be safe to mingle among the general human population. When they eventually determined that we animal-people were not bringing a possible alien plague that would threaten Earth, the initial stringent restrictions upon our movements and interaction with humans were relaxed somewhat, which has made our presence on Earth more pleasant and enabled us to do our research of human society more easily. Seeing the janitor walk into the restroom after we left made me think of the fact that years ago, panicked Earth authorities would have had the restroom and perhaps the whole airport sealed off and thoroughly examined for possible alien contamination by nervous people in protective suits. Now our presence barely made waves anymore.

But our being surrounded by airport security guards did get us noticed, and the humans in the airport saw us and gave our group a wide berth. Presumably the smell of the Director's diarrhea and his generally miserable manner, with me having to half-carry him, gave the Earthians a reason to be nervous about us. In any case, we eventually reached my car, still parked outside and being watched by yet another security guard. I pulled open the passenger's side door, moved the plastic bag onto the seat, and guided the Director inside, then closed the door and got into the driver's seat. As I started the car and drove out, I was half-expecting a security vehicle to come and escort us, but as soon as I started to drive out, the security guards all left and went back into the building. We were no longer their concern.

I drove from the airport down the main roads that would lead us back to PERC base. Neither of us spoke, the Director was obviously anxious to get back as quickly as possible, and so was I. I thought it would be an uneventful trip, dear reader, but an event did happen on the way back-namely the shocking part I was hinting at earlier.

About midway through our trip home, the Director started complaining, in our own language, that he suddenly had to go to the restroom again, and from his tone I realized he meant that any second now he would have a waterfall come out of his anus again. This was not unexpected news in light of his condition, dear reader, but even so, this was the last thing I wanted to hear. Because all of a sudden I had to think of what to do next, and none of the options were pleasant.

At the time, it was after midnight, and very few businesses would be open and finding a public restroom would be very difficult. On top of that, we were on a lone stretch of highway nowhere near anyplace with a public restroom, and the exit up ahead led to a residential area, and certainly we could not go to somebody's house, knock on their door, and ask to use their bathroom. I thought of stopping the car and letting the Director empty himself upon the roadway, but we both knew that as space aliens, leaving our excrement out in public where anybody could get into it, accidentally or deliberately, would be inviting big trouble, and not just among the Earth authorities. There was the very unpleasant option of the Director relieving himself inside the car as needed along the way back to PERC, but apart from the extreme disgust and indignity we would both suffer, it would mean putting our car out of service for an indefinite period, and we could not afford that. Then I thought of the fact that the large plastic garbage bag the Director was sitting upon might serve as an improvised toilet, and it would be the least repulsive of the options, though it would mean I would have to hold it beneath him while he squirted out his excrement. Ew.

Then I whipped out my portable telephone as I thought of one more possibility, and dialed a telephone number I had saved upon it but had not used for a while. It was a human furry I had not spoken to by voice in some time, though we sent each other emails occasionally. Please answer, I thought to myself, and at first the call was picked up by an answering machine, and my heart sunk-but it rose again when the machine's message was cut off and a live voice answered. "Hello?"

"Hello," I responded quickly. "This is Walter Fox, and I'm so sorry to call you this late, but this is a genuine emergency."

The Director made some surprised noises, but I ignored him. The human I called replied, suddenly alert, "What's going on? Did you get into a car accident or something?"

"No, nothing like that," I responded. "This may sound silly, but the Director of PERC is with me, and we need to use your bathroom, really bad!"

I hoped my tone of desperation had gotten through, and evidently it did, for the man said after a pause, "You can stop on by, Walter. I'll leave the porch light on for you."

"Oh, thank you thank you thank you-" I suddenly cut off the call as we got near the exit and I swerved right onto it. I slowed the car as I steered along the curve, and was thankful there was no tollbooth or stoplight to delay us as we reached the main road. But the Director's curiosity finally temporarily broke through his discomfort. "Where are we going?" he asked. "Who did you call?"

"One of the people who was at the furry convention whom I interviewed," I answered.

"Not Frank, or Jim or any of his crazy friends," the Director surmised.

"Not any of them," I assured him. "None of them live anywhere near here."

"Who, then? I noticed you had the number saved on your portable phone, and also whoever you called answered you at this time of night and evidently said yes when you asked to use their bathroom."

"I'll explain everything later," I promised. "But I'll let you know he is quite unusual for a furry."

I was not lying, dear reader. The Director was clearly surprised to see I had pulled up to a fancy home. His surprise increased as I went to the front entrance, and the door was opened by a relatively older man in robe, pajamas and slippers before we ever reached it.

The interior of the home was not one would expect from a furry. It was fancily but conservatively decorated, and the only indication that the man had anything to do with furries was a large painting that I recognized was from a well-known furry artist. It was a non-anthropomorphic fox in a natural setting, lying on its side so that it looked toward the viewer and was smiling knowingly, and its legs were positioned so the viewer could see all its paw pads. Very obvious to those like me who knew him, but anyone who did not was unlikely to make the connection. Besides this, I knew he had a furry costume somewhere, for I first met him wearing one at the furry convention where the awful events involving Sammy Skunk had taken place.

The man led me and the Director to a bathroom on the far side of the living room, and the Director was already undoing his trousers and sitting down even as we reached the toilet. The man stepped back out, and so did I the moment the Director had succeeded in placing his posterior on the toilet sat and was already shooting liquid out of his anus. I closed the door and let him have his privacy.

I was alone with the human, who asked me what was going on with the Director, and I explained it all to him, adding at the end, "I'm so sorry for having bothered you like this."

"Oh, think nothing of it!" he assured me. "I'm on leave anyway, and have nothing serious on my agenda for tomorrow. And I'm quite happy for you to have an excuse to come visit me again!"

And we hugged each other warmly, and I licked his face. For we had become close friends, dear reader, as I mentioned in a previous account. At the furry convention I referred to, he was one of the people who helped drag me to our safe enclosure when Sammy and I had gotten physically exhausted and badly needed a rest. He and the other man (who did not know one another) removed my sandals when I asked them to, and I knew from their reaction that they both had a fetish for furry feet. This man and I would meet again when my computer, in randomly selecting people to interview who had been at that convention, chose his name, and during our first interview, I took off my sandals and let him play with my feet. As I admit I also have a foot fetish, I also played with his. And we would both get into deep trouble if this were to ever get out (which is why I don't identify or describe him), so we could trust one another. And in the second interview with him, I even let him lick my feet-which caused me to become sexually aroused, but he stopped everything before it could get out of hand. He had the opportunity to exploit me, dear reader, but he did not-and I became very close to him as a result. Since that time, we emailed each other, but I never got the opportunity for another personal visit-until now.

I could hear the Director emptying out his colon behind the bathroom door, but despite my sympathy for his plight, I was so happy to be here, to have someone to hug and to hug me, and whose face I could lick and he would enjoy it. I realized at the time how lonely my life was since my divorce (and arguably even before, though that's another story), and to have nobody among my colleagues at PERC to be close to. As the head of PERC's sociology department, I slept in my own quarters while my underlings huddled together in their own, and being close to any of my fellow department heads, let alone any higher-ups, was also out of the question. The Director had his wife, and several other married couples were among my PERC colleagues, but most of us were away from any spouses or lovers, and the Director discouraged us from having close relationships with each other. Being the head of the sociology department gave me one privilege, though. It was possible for me to form close relationships with humans, even though the Director disliked that idea as well. But he tolerated my doing so in some cases , because he knew my emotional loneliness had been getting to me. This was less due to kindness than the fact that it had been adversely affecting my work.

We let go of each other at last; I listened and heard the Director still shooting out his fluids, and knew he was not going to get off the toilet anytime soon. He certainly would have said something if he wanted help, so my host and I had a bit of time to ourselves. We could have conversed, but we already do that via emails, and the thought of the two of us alone, with my Director right in the room next to us, completely oblivious of anything we could do, gave me the idea that we could do something very naughty together, and no one would ever know...

My next action was to unfasten and slip off my sandals, and my foot fetish friend reacted with surprise, then looked at my smiling face, and he got the idea that he was going to finally get another chance to enjoy playing with my feet again. I sat down in a chair with my friend on a sofa opposite me, and he got to fondle my feet again. After a bit of this, I could hear the Director stop squirting out liquid and flushing the toilet, and we both quickly got up and I put my sandals back on. But then I heard him squirting out liquid again, and I knew he was going to be going on for a while longer.

We relaxed, and I removed my sandals again. Instead of sitting down this time, though, I quietly asked my friend to get me something, and my request quite shocked him, but he disappeared into his bedroom and came back out with the item. I took it but pocketed it, commanding him to lie on his back next to the chair I sat in earlier. He lay down as I asked, then I sat and started to rub him with my feet.

He quite enjoyed this, and even untied his robe and unbuttoned his pajamas so he could feel my feet rubbing against his naked flesh. And I obliged him, rubbing them along his face, throat, abdomen, trunk, upper legs, and even his pubic area. Yes, dear reader, you read correctly, I actually touched a male human's genitalia for the first time, on my own initiative. If you are shocked, dear reader, my friend certainly was, and I enjoyed the look on his face.

But I was not quite certain I wanted to go all the way yet, so my next step was rubbing my feet on his face again. I pushed my toes into his mouth, and he eagerly licked and sucked them, and I began to feel the signs of sexual arousal myself. I pulled my feet away, listening for the Director, who flushed and then started to empty himself again. The temptation became just too much to resist...

For you see, dear reader, the item my friend brought upon my request was a condom. Yes, meant for human penises, but not for mine, as mine when erect is larger than a humans, and when a vulpinid like myself ejaculates, we produce far more semen than any condom could possibly contain. But I did not intend to wear it myself. In fact, I handed it back to my friend and told him I wanted him to put it on his own penis. As my actions had already started to arouse him, his penis was partly erect, and he quickly opened the package and put the condom on.

Still shocked, my friend lay back down as I rubbed my feet against him one more time, going on for a minute before I reached his pubic area...and then his penis. I did it, dear reader, I started to stroke off my human friend with my feet!

My friend was sexually aroused, but very shocked as well, that I would be doing this to him, and seeing this gave me great pleasure. I, Walter Fox, actually engaging in yiffy behavior with a human? A male human at that? But I tell no lie, dear reader. My toes were rubbing away on my friend's penis, my paw pads touching the moist flesh of his erection. My friend tried to hold it in, but he could not for too long, and I saw through the translucent condom that his semen was shooting out of the hole at the end, and I let my toes lay against his shaft until he stopped cumming. Then I slid out of my seat, lay atop him so that we faced each other, and to shock him further, I mushed my mouth against his and stuck my tongue inside, touching his teeth, tongue, and gums and sending my saliva inside, for while I suppressed my sexual arousal I was slobbery from the excitement of this all. I heard the Director still shooting out his diarrhea in the bathroom behind the door near us. Little did he know!

I pulled my mouth away, and let my friend recover from the astonishment of what I had done. Finally he spoke, quietly and hesitantly. "Walter, are you gay after all? Or at least bi?"

I gave a slight, dismissive laugh. "I told you in the past that I am not sexually attracted to humans, and though I spend more time among humans than my own kind, that hasn't changed. But we both have foot fetishism in common, which is the reason I did all this."

"I remember the time when..." My friend hesitated and went on, "I rubbed my penis against your feet, and that made you quite angry." He was referring to our first interview together long ago, when I let him play with my feet and he took his penis out of his trousers and started rubbing it against the soles of my feet-which I had not expected or authorized.

"The situation was different then," I reassured him. "That was before I formed an emotional bond with you, when I knew I could trust you not to take advantage of me when you had the chance."

"But what you did now...I can't believe you would ever-"

"Engage in any yiffy behavior with a human? A male human? I am shocked at me, too. But I am pleased to have gone through with it. I knew this was your sexual fantasy come true, so I satisfied to for you. I suppose you actually would have liked to actually sprayed your semen onto my feet, but I knew I could never have gotten away with that."

"And yet you did all this with your Director just on the other side of that door," my friend said, pointing.

I smiled. "That's what prompted me to go ahead and do it."

My friend was shocked. "The possibility of our getting caught?"

"Oh no, the possibility that we won't," I replied, before realizing we were already in a compromising position as we were. I got up quickly and put my sandals back on, and my friend equally quickly stood and refastened his bedclothes, though fortunately he left his condom on his now-flaccid penis, because removing it would have released the unmistakable smell of human semen. I went up to him and wrapped my arms around him, and my friend did the same with me.

"Even if I were willing to risk myself, I would never do anything to risk any harm to you," I assured him. "When I knew the Director would be stuck in the bathroom for a long time, I felt it was safe to go ahead and do what we did. I couldn't resist the idea of engaging in such behavior, just out of his range of perception."

"What if you happened to come here by yourself, for whatever reason?" asked my friend. "Did you have dreams of doing what we did anyway?"

"I admit I never would have dreamed, until I did so, that I would have gone so far as I did," I replied. "I did have ideas of licking your feet, the way you did mine before. Even though I don't find humans sexually attractive, I still have my foot fetish," I smiled and added, "And there's a huge variety of shapes and types of feet among us animal-people. That's why I admit I enjoy the sight of human feet."

"Would you be willing to spooge on mine?" my friend asked hopefully.

"If we have a chance? I never particularly thought of it, but I suppose it's possible." I looked toward the bathroom door. "but obviously not now though."

"No, no, of course not."

I pressed myself into him, almost leaning upon him. "Just holding you is wonderful. I have nobody to cuddle with at PERC, and nobody waiting for me back on my home world. And the Director discourages close relationships back at PERC base."

"Quite a prig, isn't he?"

"Oh, no, I understand his motive," I said. "He's worried about people having love affairs and causing trouble as a result, or worse yet people cheating on their spouses."

"Good point," my friend replied. "I never had a romance with a fellow soldier."

"Neither did I," I told him.

At that moment I heard the Director's voice from being the door, though I could not make out his exact words. Nonetheless I knew he needed help, so we broke off our embrace and I went to the bathroom door and opened it a crack. There was a strong stench like before, when he was on the airport toilet. "Do you need help?" I asked.

"Right now, could you ask our host to provide another plastic bag?" replied the Director. "A big one."

"How about a plastic drop cloth?" my friend replied.

"Even better," said the Director, and my friend went off and soon returned with an unopened plastic package containing a plastic drop cloth. He winced when he got to the door, and I knew he could smell the Director's excrement odor.

"I'm sorry," I told my friend. "You may have to do some cleanup."

"I have to wash out the bathroom anyway," he replied.

"Aren't you coming in to help me?" asked the Director, and I opened the door further, expecting to see him with his trousers half down, but he was half-standing and managed to get his trousers back on. He still looked quite miserable and I was feeling a twinge of regret at having illicitly enjoyed myself while he was suffering in the bathroom. We both went in and held him by each arm as he walked slowly out the door.

Once in the living room, I opened the drop cloth package and unwrapped the drop cloth inside, spreading it over his back. The Director had an easier time as he kept walking, and the three of us went back outside. We went to our car, I opened the passenger's side door, and the Director almost fell inside. I closed the door, and said, "Bye, thank you," to my friend.

"Bye, you're welcome," replied my friend, and I hurried over to the driver's door and got in. We already had plenty of intimacy and touching, so we did not kiss or shake hands or do anything else. Besides, we were outside and there would be possible witnesses, though it was late at night and dark outside.

I started the car and headed back onto the highway. The Director maintained his silence for a minute before he spoke. "What were you two doing?" he asked.

I was taken aback. "How do you mean?"

"You two weren't saying anything most of the time, and I can smell his odor all over you."

I leaned over and deliberately put my mouth near his nose. "We weren't having sex, if that's what you're implying. Does my mouth smell like I gave him a blowjob?"

"Pay attention to your driving!" commanded the Director, and I straightened up. "No, I don't think you two had had sex, but you weren't doing much talking. What was going on?"

"All right, I confess," I began.

"Confess what?" asked the Director, taken aback.

"The two of us were snuggling together while you were on the toilet."

"Really?" replied the Director. "And I thought you saved all that for your friend Frank."

"I have other friends too. And why not him? I like him and decided I could trust him. Not every human furry wants to stick his genitalia into me, and he's not one of them."

"We're going to have to go to the infirmary the moment we get back."

"I know."

"I hope your friend didn't catch any disease from me, if I have anything contagious."

I was worried for a moment that I might have somehow given my friend a disease from our activity, then I realized and replied, "And if we had gone to some public bathroom instead, who knows who might have gotten infected then? Not to mention the people at the airport."

"Ah, well...just hurry and get us back, will you? Already I'm starting to fill up again."

So we stopped speaking and I went as fast as I could get away with back to PERC base. The security gate was already opening when our car went up to it, and when we got near the motor pool, security guards blocked the way and had us leave the car where it was, and we got put onto stretchers and hand carried to the infirmary area, the hallways leading there evacuated.

I was taken to a medical bay room, where I had to remove all my clothes and wear a robe. I was tired and soon fell asleep, and I was surprised to wake up on my own later, with no sign anyone came to check on me. I felt no illness, and when I used the toilet there I had no diarrhea or other difficulties, to my relief. A medic came in to bring me food and to tell me I would be isolated for the day.

It was a boring day, with nothing to do except eat when food was served me, but at the end I was led out and had to bathe, and given another set of my clothes to wear. I was out of isolation, with no contagious diseases found in the Director; they weren't sure what it was, but the Director had picked up some sort of bug and was already getting better by the time I was released. Two days later, I saw him back out in the hallway and we went back to our old routine once we caught up on the work we were behind on.

Someone else had already gone and retrieved the Director's personal car which had been left behind at the airport, and a day later a medical team was sent by the Earth authorities to interview me and the Director, but other than that there was surprisingly little disruption of the operations at PERC. When I talked to the human friend I had visited, he told me that all that happened to him was that he got a phone call to confirm our visit to his home that night, but nothing else.

Everything I had written above was written several days after the events happened, and now it has been a month, so I should add that since then, my friend and I have corresponded several times as normal, but we made no mention of our little escapade together, other than to tell him that everything had returned to normal at PERC, and he certainly must know the Director never suspected a thing. And a personal message to Sammy Skunk, if he ever reads this: Eat your heart out, for I was naughty but I got away with it! :)