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The elder badger held the business card toward him through the haze of cigar smoke at the corner club. His brandy-damp whiskers twitched merrily above his smile. His younger associate set down his whiskey tumbler and took the card from him. He examined the gold embossing on the immaculately white rectangle.

The Coach-Fox

Luxury evening transportation for the discerning gentlefur in need!

For services inquire nightly at the Satyr’s Horn Pub.

The rabbit flipped the card over. The reverse side had no lettering, merely a scattering of vibrant green, four-pointed stars against a backdrop of deep purple.

“Why would I need a coach? I have my own driver, if you aren’t aware.” The bunny replied after thoroughly investigating the business card, perhaps more sharply than he intended. Anthros assuming he was still impoverished and unlettered always irked him. While he may have come from nothing, he had been rapidly advancing his career. He found that while he was on track to become a partner at the firm he worked at and dressed and acted appropriately for a rising new member of the aristocracy, many of the other barristers still saw him as the poor bunny with an ill-fitting, patched suit that he had started as.

“It isn’t for the need of a carriage, it’s for the want of a ride.” The mustelid laughed at his own joke and his chubby belly bounced as the chuckle turned into a cough.

Cornelius, as the rabbit was known, skewed his frown as he fingered the business card curiously. He wasn’t sure he understood the difference.

“I guarantee that you will not regret hiring this fox’s services. I’ve done so twice already and intend to do so again. I’ll tell you what, lad- the next time you are suffering a restless evening and need some air to clear your head, call on him. Have him take you out of town for a few hours for some country air. Heck, have him drive you ten times ‘round the block. If you aren’t completely satisfied, when next you see me here, I shall reimburse you every bit of coin you spent on his services and grant you my sincerest apologies. And I’m a prideful fur.” The badger had taken up his cane from where it rested against the plush lounge armchair and gestured with it as he spoke to punctuate his sentences. He puffed on his cigar and flicked aside the ash.

Cornelius had no strong frame of reference to verify the truth of the statement. He had interacted with the badger maybe a half dozen times in the past two years since making a name for himself and moving uptown. Still, he slipped the business card into his breast pocket where he promptly forgot about it.

A few nights later he was up late but still very much awake. He was half-inebriated from an evening with the lads at the local snooker hall before his peers abandoned him to rest up for their morning obligations. He paced in his lantern-lit study, eyes glazing over as he took stock of the titles in his personal library by the light of the flickering flame. He struggled to find anything suitable to alleviate his boredom. Eventually, he picked up a book of erotic nude sketches, and flipped through the pages until he found some drawings to his tastes and took the tome over to his sofa.

The ink drawings of naked males of every species imaginable lounging in various poses in natural surroundings sated his need at first, but he shortly tired of them.

He massaged the half-hard bulge in his trousers. It was no use. Cornelius had pleasured himself to these pages countless times. He was bored and he was frustrated, and pawing at himself would lead to a mediocre climax at best. He set the collection aside and slumped down in the armchair. One of his suit jackets was draped over the back of the seat, and he felt something stiff in the pocket fall out right into his lap.

It was the forgotten business card for the Coach-Fox.

“Why not?” He thought aloud to himself, and rang the bell on his desk. Its chime echoed through the hallways. After a couple of minutes, his squirrel servant, Rupert, appeared, dressed properly in stark contrast to his master’s eveningwear, albeit bleary-eyed and headfur somewhat amus from being roused from sleep. He bowed at the waist, and waited to be acknowledged before righting himself.

“I need you to head over to the Satyr’s Horn immediately and hire a coach for me. This coach, specifically,” he passed the card to the squirrel, holding it between his pointer and middle finger.

“Immediately, Sir?” The help asked, eying the late hour on the ornate grandfather clock against the wall. “I believe all businesses beyond houses of ill repute shall be closed at this hour. Even if transportation is available, wherever shall I tell them that you’ll be going?” The grey fur on his magnificent tail bristled, making it puff outward, a tell-tale sign that he disapproved of his employer’s directions. The tavern was in a part of town known for its boisterous and bawdy atmosphere. He was a professional, and despite being in his mid-twenties just like his boss, tended slightly more sage toward wisdom rather than the rambunctiousness of youth. He would never utter his criticism aloud.

“I’m not tired and I need to see something other than my study walls for a little while. Though it is late, I would like to take in the night blossoms in the countryside. I believe I may not be back until close to sunrise, but that depends entirely on this chap’s services. He comes highly recommended and it’s too frivolous a trip to call on my own driver during his off hours.”

“As you say, Sir,” his butler bowed again and disappeared to don his boots and head over to hire the coach-fox’s services. Meanwhile, Cornelius dressed himself to go back out. He had just threaded his ears through their appropriate holes on his tophat and straightened his cufflinks and lapels when there was a rhythmic rapping at his door. Rupert hadn’t yet returned, so the nouveau-riche lapine was forced to answer himself. He swung the door open to reveal a dashing fox, his bowler hat in one fingerless glove-clad paw as he bowed with a flourish. Clutched in his other paw was a driver’s whip with an ornate ashwood handle. There was a faint glimmer about him as if the stars themselves twinkled closer in his presence.

The dandy todd was of unremarkable height and of lithe build. His jade shirt beneath his open lilac jacket was unbuttoned to the breast, letting the snowy white fluff of his chest overtake the fabric. He had emerald eyes and a burnished copper pelt, except for the fur on his paws, which was an inky black. He wore sturdy, well polished boots and earthy trousers. His plush, dipstick tail couldn’t seem to stay in one place behind him, ever swishing hither and yon.

“I was informed that you were in need of my art. My name is Rune, but most merely call me…the coach-fox. Humbly at your service.”

Behind him was an impressive stagecoach crafted of darkly stained wood that was almost the same purple hue of the midnight sky beyond it. It smelled of oiled sandalwood and heady incense. There was no sign of a beast of burden to pull the massive carriage. And there was no sign of Cornelius’ manservant either. It was unlike him to tarry, but perhaps he purchased himself a tipple at the pub before returning home.

“Mr. Rune-”

“Just Rune, if you please, Sir.” The vulpine had donned his hat, which flattened his pointed ears beneath its brim. A pale green band around the rounded top matched his shirt.

“Rune then. An associate of mine strongly recommended you.”

“I pride myself on ensuring my customers never look for another form of transport.” Rune smiled with his teeth and gestured with his arms toward his impressive coach.

“How much for a trip out of the city and through the countryside? I find myself restless this evening.”

“Billing is at the end of the trip, based on your, shall we say, satisfaction-” he dragged out the word-. “I guarantee one of your obvious esteem can easily pay the price.”

The rabbit smirked, pleased that the dashing fox appropriately recognized his station. He strode out, locked his door, and was guided to the coach by the driver via a firm paw on his lower back.

“How does it move?” The bunny inquired, his chestnut eyes scanning the nearby alleyways for the missing harnesses and tack. He assumed this mysterious driver put on a bit of a mystifying show for his customers to stick out in their minds.

Rune waggled a finger and tapped the side of his snoot, indicating that it was a secret, before holding out a paw to steady Cornelius as he climbed into the coach. After the rabbit had seated himself on the cushioned bench, the vulpine lit a pair of oil lamps on the interior wall of the carriage on either side of the door, casting a dim glow about the cabin. The todd hopped out of the passenger cab and closed the portal with a heavy thud. The rabbit then heard him clamber up into the driver's seat.

Cornelius inspected the coach. There were two windows. One was opposite the door and made of glass with curtains draped over it for privacy. The other was a small sliding door the size of a letterbox that opened about eye level to the driver intended for passengers to communicate with the fox on a moment’s notice. The cabin was furnished in rich, dark colors, burgundy and amethyst chief among them. Ringing the wall close to the ceiling was a gold border engraved with lurid scenes. The erotic art depicted a wide variety of furs in just as many positions in the throes of passion, often with multiple partners at once It seemed rather lewd to the barrister to have something so explicit on display, but in a thrilling way. He eyed the carvings closer and felt his pulse quicken when he noticed that many of the tiny anthros were bound in ropes or chains with skewed faces too undetailed to tell if they were intended to be moaning in pleasure or pain.

He felt a familiar stirring in his loins as he took in the enticing images, but didn’t have long to enjoy them before the coach suddenly lurched and creaked. Seconds later, the carriage was rumbling along the winding, cobbled streets of the city.

It was strange. Cornelius would have sworn he was scarcely in his seat for a minute before the coach fox had begun their trip, and yet the vehicle managed to be in motion despite the apparent lack of creature to pull it. He opened the curtain, to see the buildings drift by in the foggy mist of night, faster than perhaps was reasonably safe, but as he was excited to get out of the dreary city and into more pastoral surroundings he didn’t much mind. Every once in a while he heard Rune crack his whip and vocalize a command. After some time, the rabbit’s curiosity got the better of him and he needed to see how the carriage was in motion.

He braced against the wall for balance and staggered over to the opposite bench from which he could slide open the letterbox window. He carefully opened it and peered through.

Cornelius gasped at the sight.

A team of a dozen male furs were dressed in tight straps and buckles were attached via harnesses to the carriage. They were blindfolded and gagged with bits. Their sheaths were held captive in small steel cages outfitted with tiny padlocks, and beneath at least a couple of their tails the bunny could make out the flared base of a plug wedged in their clefts. Their ample sacs bounced. Their arms and legs were bound in sleeves that ended in artificial hooves, and their paws were connected to their collar by slender chains to make them look as if they were rearing back. With the window open, Cornelius could hear their muffled moans after each crack of Rune’s whip. The sound had a faint echo about it, and their whines and whinnies made an otherworldly chorus. They glowed a ghastly green as if they had been completely coated in phosphorescent powder.

The rabbit’s eyes widened when, at the head of the team, he spied the pudgy badger who had given him the Coach-Fox’s business card. Next to him was Cornelius’ missing servant braying like a stallion as the bite of the whip snapped against his naked backside.

It was a confusing, but somehow arousing sight. Cornelius was dumbstruck, mouth agape. His mind first wandered to what it would be like to hold the whip. Then it quickly shifted to wondering what it would be like to be in their place. Everything seemed blurry. Fuzzy. His vision swam and a dreamlike haze fogged his mind. The wealthy rabbit’s maleness stirred. His face flushed hot, and he noticed his smallclothes rapidly growing tight.

Rune noticed him through the peephole and flashed him a wicked smile, his large canid fang glinted in the moonlight.

“Nothing to fear, my good Sir,” the fox said. “The ride of your life has yet to truly begin.”

The todd let go of the whip he was weidling and it hovered in place through some sort of witchcraft, continually lashing the tormented furs pulling the carriage as it sped along, as if held by an invisible paw. Rune quickly drew a glyph in the air with one claw, tracing glowing viridescent lines in midair, and the peephole shuddered and closed of its own accord.

The lapine heard a series of footfalls on the roof of the carriage above him. Then the cabin door flew open. Wind rushed by the yawning portal. They had already left the city and were thundering along a dirt path through fields of wildflowers illuminated by starlight and the faint twinkling of fireflies. The coach moved so fast that the bound anthros couldn’t possibly be pulling them, yet there they trotted, curving around the next bend, hoof-clad footpaws galloping in the air scant inches from the earth.

The coach-fox’s head and shoulders appeared in the empty doorway upside down as he bent over the roof to come snoot to snoot with his employer. This started Cornelius and he stumbled clumsily backward into his seat again, legs splayed, showing his prominent bulge that the erotic, mystical display had caused. Rune’s eyes lingered and he licked his lips. A gust of wind made his hat fly off, but he snatched it casually with one paw and spun it into the cabin. He flipped inside with an acrobatic flourish and pulled the door shut behind him.

“What’s going on!?” Cornelius barely rasped out the words. His throat was dry.

Rune teetered into the seat beside him and rested one gloved-paw on the rabbit’s thigh, sliding it slowly toward his groin.

“I always promise my customers satisfaction, regardless of the form that takes. And, my little bunny, I can tell that you are in dire need of a particularly rough ride.” His paw-pads moved ever closer to his employer’s obvious hardness.

Cornelius didn’t have it in him to deflect the forward fox’s impropriety, and let Rune trace his erection through his trousers. The rabbit breath hitched. Too soon, the fox withdrew his paw.

“Now let me provide you with everything you need and nothing you don’t.”

He clasped his paws together to make a hollow sphere in front of his muzzle, and blew a puff of breath into it, then opened his fingers like a flower bud blooming. A thin smoke the shade of wisteria blossoms briefly engulfed the chamber filled with glittering green motes of light. It dissipated as quickly as it appeared, but several translucent ghostly paws now hung in the air, clones of Rune’s own fingerless glove covered paw. They were the same luminous shade of green as the glowing anthros pulling the coach. As if they were coated in ethereal paint, they trailed smears and droplets of ectoplasm in the air behind themselves which dissipated into nothingness within heartbeats.

A quartet of them silently zipped toward Cornelius’ wrist and ankles and pinned him in place on the bench, while others started to undo the various buttons on his jacket and trousers as nimbly as the fox himself might. Meanwhile, the todd was slowly stripping off his own attire, starting with his boots, stockings, and gloves. His ears were folded back, giving his face a sharp, cunning edge.

Cornelius found his voice. It wavered, half stuck in his throat, but still he managed to croak out, “What is this?” He struggled against the magical bindings, but his limbs were held so solidly that they may well have been encased in granite. “I demand to know what is going on. What kind of sorcery is this?”

“I can read your aura, my little bunny. I know you’re…frustrated- and I know how to relieve it. Your coworker and your butler certainly got what was missing from their lives, and I daresay that despite how it may seem, they couldn’t be happier with the outcome. If you weren’t overflowing with carnal need this merely would have been a mundane coach ride.”

The fox’s jacket and shirt were off by this point, and a pair of floating paws were neatly folding them and setting them aside. His suspender straps hung limp around his legs while he undid his fly. His eyes seemed to flash, like they held thunderstorms of verdant energy, just before any of the paws moved or changed tasks. Soon his trousers and small clothes were shucked as well and he stood gloriously naked in the speeding carriage. The tip of his erection, a veiny, marbled crimson spear, jutted from his plump sheath and stood out against the snowy fuzz of his pelvis, and his substantial sac was as full and round as a ripe piece of fruit. It bounced beneath its own weight with each vibration of the carriage.

The rabbit was down to his underthings as well. Only thin linen covered his erection. Despite the phantasmagorical scene, the sight of the vulpine’s nude, healthy physique and the surprising excitement of being at the mercy of his sexual whims made him as solid as a rock, and the online of his ebony obelisk tented the fabric of his fashionable pants. One of the ghostly paws gripped him through the cloth and gave him a firm stroke. A jet of wet, watery pre blossomed across the pristine cloth, staining it dark, wet splotch.

“There is no need to feel shamed by your desire to submit to me. I can tell that what you really need, is to be my plaything for an hour or three.”

The todd’s musk hung cloyingly in the air, almost mesmeric in its own right. He exuded confidence and masculinity. Cornelius had had few sexual encounters in his life, but always as the one taking charge and plunging in and out of a willing cleft. He had always felt to be submissive to another male was something to be embarrassed of. This reversal was intoxicating. It was awakening things within him. At some point he realized that he had stopped struggling against his mystical bondage.

Rune bent forward and nipped at his collar, before licking up the rabbit’s neck and toward his dangling ear. Hot breath rolled across Cornelius shoulder and nape. Meanwhile, the spectral paws removed Cornelius’ final stick of clothing, and exposed his penis. It glistened from rivers of pre cascading down it.

“Soon you will be begging me to take you, just like all of the others,” the fox whispered hoarsely into his ear just as a translucent green paw placed a finger at the tip of his length and circled his sensitive crown. Cornelius nearly whimpered, but held it back by biting his buck teeth into his bottom lip. The digit massaged the underside of his length with a finesse he had never felt before. Heat and desire welled within him. Even though the fondling was slow, it was incredibly deliberate, edging him to full mast. Soon the paw held his shaft in its grip. He tried to buck his hips and drive himself up into the ghostly fist, but the paw moved with him, making him whine with unfulfilled need.

“Now, now. Don’t be hasty, we’ve only just begun. But, say the word, and I will end my magical display now and return you to your residence. If you choose not to, then I will do as I wish, or rather as you need, despite any further cries for me to cease.”

The lapine’s heart fluttered. He had never been more titillated, but that arousal churned with fear. He had seen true magic, something out of whimsical fantasy novels, and was in the clutches of someone who wielded it effortlessly. His balls ached for a release, and he would be lying if he said that Rune wasn’t one of the most attractive furs he had ever met. He desired a rutting. A rough one. And what’s more, for some reason he desired to submit to a lowly coach driver of all males. After a tense moment of deliberation, he shook his head.

“Good bunny. I won’t stop until we are both thoroughly satisfied with this transaction. Now, open your mouth and taste me.”

Cornelius parted his lips and the fox’s cock was there at the tip of his muzzle. He kissed it and gave it a quick lick.

.”More. Savor it fully.”

The rabbit leaned forward and wrapped his tongue around the thick organ. He tasted of salt and sweat, and- strangely- of lavender. Cornelius lapped along the length, dragging his tongue from where the flesh met his sheath all of the way up to its apex. He did this again. And again. Then he worked his tongue beneath Rune’s sheath where the fox’s knot bulged against its confines and fought for freedom.

Rune braced himself against the bumping of the carriage with his paws against the ceiling. One of the spectral paws roughly gripped the fur on the back of Cornelius’ head and shoved his maw down onto the vulpine’s rigid shaft. He coughed and nearly gagged as the monolith’s girth buried itself into his throat. Cornelius’ nose was buried in fragrant, musky pheromones of Rune’s crotch, and he deeply inhaled the heady scent, driving himself wild with want. The fox’s knot was struggling to free itself against the tight hold of his sheath while the rabbit’s tongue rolled along its underside. Cornelius' chin fit perfectly into the triangular hollow between the todd’s sheath and scrotum.

The paw started controlling the rabbit’s movements, forcing his head rapidly down and back again with the same strength that it held him in place, exposed, and at the fox’s mercy.

The shaft drove into his muzzle again and again, freely spurting flavorful pre across his tongue and into his throat. The magical paws holding Cornelius’ ankles lifted his enormous foot paws and spread his legs wide, revealing the bunny’s puckered hole beneath the upturned spade of cottony fluff that was his tail. A paw silently zipped into place in front of his shaft and fondled it. The mystical substance felt wet and cool against his sensitive nether region. Its grasp was firm, yet yielding, like a trapped fluid in an invisible but flexible container. The rabbit moaned as it pumped him swiftly for several seconds then transitioned to excruciatingly slow caresses. After maybe two dozen of the sluggish motions, it reverted to its rapid pace again; edging him closer to climax before letting him groan out in frustration once more as it cycled between the two patterns to thwart an orgasm.

Cornelius’ trepidation over the magic faded as he began to focus more on the immediate physical sensations he felt: The sac of a lowly coach driver smacking into his chin as he pleasured Rune and the stroking of the ghostly pad on his rod and the welling heat at its tip. The paws grabbing his ankles moved to his lapine feet and started massaging his soft, furry soles. He quivered in unexpected pleasure at the discovery of a new erogenous zone. No one had ever paid such attention to his foot paws during sex before and it ignited a fresh desire within him.

The fox stopped humping into his muzzle long enough to take over holding Cornelius’ foot paws from the ghostly paws with his own. As his paw pads roved over the bunny’s, exploring every inch of them, the spectral hand floated lower, and started kneading the pert globes of the rabbit’s hindquarters. They pulled his buttocks apart and a finger from each side worked their way toward his hole. It was the same glorious shade of onyx as the skin of his cock, nose, and ears. The barrister inhaled sharply at the cool, slick sensation. Rune placed his cheek on one of Cornelius’ soles and rubbed it there, inhaling the bunny’s scent before giving them a slurp of his tongue.

Cornelius barely had time to enjoy the feeling of vulpine enjoying his feet when the first digit of an otherworldly paw started to work its way into his tight ring to pry him open. It twisted inside to the first knuckle and wiggled to loosen him. He involuntarily clenched around the invasion, but the magic limb paid him no heed and continued to plunge inward, working steadily deeper until the entire digit was beckoning within him. The magic paw found the sweet spot inside of him and instantly started pressing against his prostate, milking out gushes of pre from his rigid, quivering length.

A second paw wriggled a finger in next to the first, and the bunny whined with desire as he spread to accommodate it. They twisted rotated withershins around one another in a complex way that no normal fur would be able to do without someone tangling their arm bones into a knot. All the while the paws left some ghostly green goo behind that was cool and slick, greasing his ring.

Rune bent his knee and placed one of his paws on the seat beside Cornelius and adjusted the rabbit’s legs and backside to line his shaft up with the rabbit’s eager hole. He held the flesh of his sheath and stretched it over his throbbing knot, allowing it to pop free. The fox waved the ethereal paws away and quickly shuffled forward to take their spot. Once he was angled well, he plunged down into his employer’s prepared entrance, penetrating deep until the squeeze of Cornelius’ heat bumped up against the bulb of flesh that was Rune’s knot. He pulled away and immediately thrust forward again, forcibly and rough. And again, with even more velocity. Before long he was pumping in and out of the rabbit with the savage intensity of one focused solely on his own pleasure, and it drove the rabbit wild, awakening submissive desire that he had never entertained before. His whole body shook from the pleasure being taken by the handsome vulpine.

The fox pulled Cornelius off of his seat and onto the floor, using the extra strength of the ghost paws to ensure that the passenger was held at a steep incline so that he was nearly upside down and only his head, floppy ears, and shoulders were against the carpeted interior. Rune lifted his own shovel-like foot paw and spread his paw pads wide in front of the bunny’s face.

“Taste them. Worship them,” he urged, wriggling his toes. “Smell my scent and savor it.”

The rabbit inhaled deeply, partially involuntarily. He smelled the fox’s masculine musk, the perfumed soap in his pelt, the sweat of his exertion, and the lingering odor of the cloth of his stockings and material of his boots. The rabbit had never been in such a vulnerable state before and certainly had never had a lover order him to do something as demeaning as licking their foot paws. Somehow the command made it more desirable. He tentatively stuck forth his tongue and swiped along the rounded, spongy triangle of his largest paw pad. The taste was not unpleasant. It had the same salty flavor as flesh, like when he had a penis in his muzzle, but with a rougher texture to it. He licked again. Then again, slowly working his tongue between the fox’s splayed toes.

While the rabbit went about worshiping his foot paws, the coach driver angled his tip downward into Cornelius’ cleft, and found his mark. The stretched ring was still slick with the ectoplasmic slime from the ghostly apparitions, and the first inch slid in smoothly again after he found purchase in the lapine’s pucker.

Cornelius’ gasped and groaned as the sizable appendage drove down into him once more. Inch after inch sank in, and the fox placed weight on his lifted foot, pressing the bunny’s face into the carpet with his paw pads, toes waggling. Rune resumed driving into him with untamed thrusts that ignited fireworks of pleasure inside the rabbit.

Cornelius didn’t know how long Rune had used his hole and pressed his paw against his muzzle, but eventually he felt the vulpine being to grind his thick knot against his well used ring. It stretched around the fist-sized bulb. Once it had passed the halfway paint, the thickest part, it popped in with ease, locking tightly into place. The bunny felt it throb and swell further, then twitch. Rune’s nuts drew tight and his physique seized with a violent shudder and moan, and a gush of hot seed flooded the lapine. He felt spurt after spurt of vulpine spunk jet inside of him.

The sensation pushed him over the edge as well and his own rod quivered and erupted, painting his own face and Rune’s foot with blasts of his milky ooze. Rune leered down at him, panting, mouth agape and tongue lolling to the side before he composed himself. He lifted his spunk coated foot paw a couple of inches. The small motion caused his knot to tug against the abused hole, making Cornelius whimper in delight.

“Clean it off,” the driver commanded. Pearlescent strands lazily dripped from his paw onto Cornelius’ muzzle, and from the rabbit’s own cock, dampening the fur of his naked belly.

The rabbit complied and swiped the fox’s paw clean with several damp strokes of his tongue. He swallowed his own salty essence with a gulp.

“I believe you’ve earned a spot next to your butler at the front of the train, don’t you think?” Rune waved his paw in the air and several of the ghostly hands floated over with straps and chains and buckles that had materialized alongside more obviously sexually oriented gear like a chastity cage and plug that rivaled the size of the driver’s knot. “Training is intense, but I do think you’ll manage, Sir. We can start as soon as my knot deflates.

A ghostly paw delivered Rune his lash. More hovered close. They held the same type tack and gear attached to the spectral furs out in front of the carriage. A silver chastity cage. A matching plug with a girth to match the fox’s maleness. Sleek, stiff gauntlets and leggings that ended in flaring, synthetic hooves. It was the last thing he saw before more paws placed blinders over his eyes.