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…Week Eleven…

“Calig Stallone.” A croaky voice called into a waiting room that stank of sterile latex. Elan and Calig glanced at each other before vacating their slightly-too-small chairs. They were met by a wrinkly Sharpedo at the reception desk. She looked like she’d gone so long without a day off that she’d fused to her chair. Her name tag read Nurse Nona. “So, am I to believe we have two Calig Stallone’s attending Flynt University?

“And that’s just the freshman class.” Calig flashed his teeth. Nona, unmoved, glowered back at them.

“Very funny, Mister Stallone. And am I to believe you’re here for a prenatal checkup?” Nurse Nona’s voice was loud enough to be audible to the entire waiting room. Elan wondered if he dare glance behind him to see if anyone was listening, or, worse yet, recognize him. But he didn't dare; he thought he recognized that Lucario from Chem 101. Elan prayed to Arceus that she wasn't one of Cal's house party conquests, or that she was too blitzed to remember him. I think I'd die before I'd drank enough to forget getting dicked down by Calig...

“Alright, Alright you caught me. I made the appointment for my partner. This is really for Elan Ardor. Just check it in under my name and let us go. He shouldn’t be late.” hissed Calig. His bared his fangs, tail rigid. But he might as well have tucked it between his legs for all the good ferocity did him here.

“You know that’s against the rules, Mister Stallone,” said Nona, uncaring. Cal winced at being addressed as "Mister Stallone" again. Elan put a hand on his wrist. He knew his 'Doom had a thing about his surname. “Free clinic visits aren’t notes you pass to your friends in class.”

“Yeah but can’t you make an exception for him,” said Calig, exasperated. “I wasn’t lying when we said it was a prenatal visit.”

“Running a campus clinic is expensive, Mister Stallone,” frowned Nona. She swiveled in her chair so that she could leer at them while keeping one eye on her monitor. “And so is prenatal care. It would be unfair to your fellow students if you let your boyfriend use up all the campus resources meant for everyone else. You don’t get frequent flyer miles here.”

Elan sensed Calig's indignation and snaked a tail around his 'Doom's ankle. He was flattered how Calig leapt to defend him, but there was a time and place. “C’mon, we all pay tuition, right? How many students come here? And how many of those actually hit the semester cap on clinic visits? Isn’t that enough to cover some checkups?” Elan said diplomatically.

“Fees from frequent visitors like you cover everyone else’s checkups. If that feels unfair maybe you should re-evaluate the decisions that led you to being here so often,” Nona nose crinkled pointedly at the exposed midriff beneath Elan’s sunny orange crop top.

Sparks crackled behind Calig's fangs and panic well up inside Elan. On instinct, the 'Nines' tail darted out between the Houndoom’s jaws. He squeaked. The bite didn’t hurt, it was mostly fluff in Calig’s mouth right now. At least you didn’t moan, you dumb slut. Elan took the initiative while Calig brushed cream and orange fur off his tongue. “Calig made the appointment because I need him here, alright?”

Nona’s eye ridges raised over her horn-rimmed spectacles. “Moral support isn’t a legitimate reason for a scheduled clinic visit, Mister Ardor.”

Elan’s voice dropped to a carefully measured stage whisper. “They need to teach him how to do my hormone shot, okay? The kits need them but… but I’m scared of needles. I need him to do it.”

Nona looked them up and down for a too-long moment before sighing. “Through the door on the right, like you don’t know where you’re going…”

The mortifying sensation of student eyes boring into the back of his head persisted long after the swing-doors closed behind Elan. Together he and Cal trudged to their exam room at the far end of the hall. Victory, but at what cost?

Calig said exactly what they were both thinking. “You didn’t know anyone in there, did you?”

“I think I have class with one of them,” said Elan. Paper crinkled as he sat on the exam chair.

“Not a fan of that nurse’s attitude,” grumbled Calig. “That had to be at least three different privacy violations.”

“I mean, people are gonna find out eventually. What’s a few months early?” Elan shrugged. But he didn’t mean it. At this rate all the secrets inside of him would spill out into the consequences. His only potential source of relief was months away when the species would finally show on the ultrasound. At this rate the guilt show up on my medical chart...

Calig was still fuming. “Maybe we should report her. How many HIPAA violations do you think she racks up a day if she’s like that with everybody?”

“Not like we’d be able to afford a lawyer that isn’t doing anything for free. What are we gonna do, call my mom on them?” Elan laughed joylessly.

“Point taken,” Calig said, darkly. “Purrloins and bags and all that. Tell me, by the way, are you actually afraid of needles?”

“I dunno, ask the hickey on my shoulder,” giggled Elan.

“Are my teeth really that sharp? I feel bad now.”

“It suits you, Sexy.”

“Love you too, Babygirl.”

The appointment went much smoother than the check-in. It was the kind of thing on the cusp of being routine: Blood pressure, blood draw, weigh-in. All just check marks on a clipboard.

“How’re you eating?”

“Good.”

“Are you remembering your vitamins?”

“I take ‘em before bed so I never forget.”

“Staying active?”

Elan spared Cal a look. “Yeah. Lotsa cardio.”

Illegible scribbling. The scent of antiseptic wipes. The pinch and push of a needle. Elan itched the bandaid idly and resisted the urge to peel it off his fur. “You said I’m due for another ultrasound, right?”

“Mmhmm. We don’t have stuff like that in the student clinic. We’ll have to send you back to Dr. Larson for that one. You can book our shuttle and have it take you to the city hospital at the reception desk.”

“Uh… I think I’m out of those. I’ll find my own ride,” said Elan.

“If that works for you. Have you considered my recommendation that you meet with one of our campus therapists? They’ve dealt with, uh, inconvenient pregnancies before.”

“Doc, I’ve got two free clinic visits left this semester. It’s not even Thanksgiving break yet.” The doctor's silence was the worst thing Elan could have heard. He slid off the exam chair and straightened his clothes. “Thanks for the help. I’ll, uh, I’ll pick up my 'scripts from the pharmacy on campus tomorrow, okay?”

A dourness persisted between Elan and Cal as they picked at their dinner. It rubbed Elan the wrong way. Calig deserved better than all this brooding. But neither of them could muster a word as they sat at their work spaces. Class and deadlines waited for no one, not even his kits. At least the whir of the sewing machine covered the silence.

“What costume you working on, Babygirl,” said Calig without looking up from his monitor.

T __oo d_ amn sweet_ for his own good. Mutt can't even let me sulk in peace. “I need to make a costume from a classic play updated for a contemporary time period and gender swap it. So I'm doing Sebastian and Viola from Twelfth Night.”

“Isn't it cheating to do a character who already cross-dresses?”

“Well that’s why I’m doing both! Besides, Viola dresses as a man in the original play. So I wanna do Sebastian’s normal getup and also one where he goes out in girl mode,” said Elan, gaze kept firmly on the garish pink outfit in front of him. “I wanted to go with kind of a sleazy speakeasy kinda thing, so I'm borrowing visual motifs from lounge wear and cocktail dresses.”

“Are you really making a whole extra costume for an assignment just so you can introduce your classmates to fembois?” said Calig.

“Shut up, Mutt,” giggled Elan. “I’d have to do the extra work anyway. Viola and Sebastian should have their costumes be in conversation! They’re twin siblings! If the costumes share visual motifs it helps the audience subtextually buy into the fiction that one of the twins can successfully crossdress as the other!”

Calig made a dismissive jerk-off gesture. ‘“But professor, it’s crucial to the plot I swear!’”

“Don’t act like you’re not counting down the days before you get to rail me in the dress,” retorted Elan.

"If you ask me you should get extra credit for cum stains." Calig's snort lifted the miasma that had been hovering over them. Only a little, but still. The ‘Doom’s mouse clicked as adjusted a photo for his next assignment. “Hey, side note, but how old is your costuming professor?”

“I dunno, late 50s I think,” shrugged Elan. He paused to examine his stitching and compared it to one of the pictures on his phone he’d saved for reference. Close enough. “What, are you looking for some extracurricular DILFs to hunt? Owyn and Dad not enough for you?”

“No, but I hope for your sake that you don’t get graded down for being derivative. Modernized Twelfth Night is kinda overdone… Unless you’re banking on your professor having not seen the quintessential 2000s teen drama She’s The Man.” The two curled over their chairs in another fit of laughter.

“You feeling any better, then? After, you know, all that?” Calig leaned over and nuzzled Elan, his homework abandoned. The gesture was well-meaning but Elan felt his laughter peter out like a punctured Drifblim. He'd rather forget while he still could. Eventually his body would make his three little problems undeniable, but that was for future Elan to deal with.

“I dunno Cal. I can deal with Nurse Nona, I can deal with rumors, but I’m not sure how we’re gonna deal with multiple hundred dollar co-pays a month,” Elan flipped his sewing machine off and stared dejectedly at his half-finished project. “Mom balances all the family finances. Dad can’t get away with passing us cash under the table forever.”

“You think we can ask Owyn for help?” said Calig with foolish optimism.

“What’s he get out of handing us cash every week, Cal?” said Elan sullenly. “He’s already getting free rent and a buncha no-strings sex for being our cover story. We don’t have much in our hand left to play.”

“Yeah,” said Calig. “We kinda missed the boat on campus jobs, too. All those positions were gonna be filled by September. I guess we can both start applying for stuff but that’s not good for anything unless the stars align and someone quits. In any case, I don’t think the stress of retail work is gonna be good for you right now.”

“I’m not a princess, Cal. This is my mess to clean up, too,” Elan snapped, but regretted it instantly. He had no business being bitchy to Calig after today.

“But what if I wanna treat you like one, huh?” said Calig. He hugged Elan from behind and planted a kiss on his neck.

“You’re doing a great job at it, my Good Boy,” Elan purred. A tail wrapped gently around Cal’s ankle. Cal’s whip-sharp tail slapped against the chair.

“You know, baby, there might be a way to make some cash after all,” whispered Calig. His ember eyes were looking at the unfinished dress on Elan’s sewing machine. “Have you ever thought about showing off how pretty you look in all the clothes you make?”

“Maybeee… I’ve never had a studio to shoot in… and this is the first time I’ve had a photographer on call.” Elan smiled wider than he had in days. Dammit, Mutt! Just can’t stay mad with you around.

“Well, what do you know,” said Calig, muzzle inches from Elan’s ear.

“We should make a weekend of it,” said Elan, eager to play into the fantasy. “All my outfits, all our toys. We can do all those lighting and set tricks the influencers use to make it look like they’re on vacation 24/7.”

“Yeah,” said Calig. He kissed along Elan’s shoulder. His hands crawled over the ‘Nine’s chest, ruffling the fur beneath his top. “You’d have ‘em chomping at the bit in no time, Babygirl. Every new photo drop will have them on their knees begging for more.”

“Oh you think s-so,” said Elan. The touch made his breath catch in his chest.

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t we take a break? We can finish when we’re done.”

“Yeah.”

The fantasy of being so desirable that people would pay handover fist for nudes was no less compelling for how farfetched it was. The thought of the photo shoot was pressed between their writhing bodies as Calig’s tongue pushed into Elan’s muzzle. The anticipation of the coming weekend pushed through even their afterglow: the same pointed, sensual pressure that kept Cal tied hip to hip with Elan. With all the uncertainty looming about them, it was a pleasant thing to cling to. Almost as pleasant to cling to as Cal.

…Sunday Night…

“Alright, turn your hips a little more! Look at me… now turn your nose up a bit… good… gooooooood.” Calig’s enthusiastic coaxing was accompanied by rapidly clicking shutters. Elan laid on his sheets in a baby blue sundress that perfectly matched his eyes. Not that anyone would see them. The two had agreed when they began after breakfast that if these pics did ever see the light of day they’d crop out any faces from the shot. “Ok, I think we got this one. Can we get a backshot next, Babygirl?”

Elan giggled and shifted on the bed. He’d done more conventional shoots with Cal before. When it came to getting the shot the ‘Doom was excruciatingly thorough. But the scale of this shoot was something else entirely. Outfit, makeup, accessories, hair, toys, repeat— and don’t touch your face or it'll smear!

Things went faster once Elan taught Calig to help with the makeup. Elan normally liked to "wow" his partners with a dramatic reveal but Cal's enthusiasm at learning the process made him reconsider. Besides, it would be fun if we took turns dolling each other up. Would he like that? Cal's eagerness kept them both going despite the shoot lasting past lunch, dinner, and even sunset. They'd worked out a sort of routine: each getup was shot on the couch, on the bed, in the shower, under every kind of lighting and with what seemed like every toy in their extensive collection. It made sense this way: if they decided to post they needed a backlog to keep people tipping even after Elan started to show.

A bullet vibe tucked safely under Elan’s sheath buzzed softly, just enough to keep him stimulated for this marathon. He rolled onto the bed, careful not to disturb his hair. He used his tails to push up the hem of the dress to frame his hips. The blue jeweled plug glinted, perfectly matched to his dress. “Like this babe?”

“Yeah, just like that! That’s good stuff.” The lustful growl wasn’t Calig’s but Owyn’s. He’d gotten home from his personal training gig over an hour ago and had spent the time as a one-man peanut gallery. Neither of the other boys minded that much, but the 'Arc was quite big and he kept leaving his tail or more in the shot like an errant boom mic.

“Just turn your hips up a little more… Now, can you put a little pressure on your sheath for me baby? Just eaaaaase it back a lil' and— Perfect!” Calig’s hunger oozed from his every instruction. He’d lost his pants about an hour into the shoot and spent most of it rock-hard without nary a stroke. “Just hold it for a biiiit more… there’s my good girl.”

“They’ll love it, won’t they?” Elan cooed playfully, swishing his tails slowly across the bed as the shutter continued to click.

“They’ll devour you, babygirl,” Calig growled so low in his throat every word threatened to catch in his teeth. “Alright, Owyn can you stand at that far edge of the bed and slip your fingertips juuuust under the base of the plug? I think a few teasing or tugging closeups would be good here.”

Owyn grunted and Elan dutifully jutted his hips upward even higher to stay in frame. Owyn’s hands wandered leisurely over Elan's cheeks. “What, like this maestro?”

“You gotta turn your hips more, dude, your huge fucking boner is right in the shot. And stop wagging your tail you’re gonna knock over the green screen.”

“It was just that one time," protested Owyn.

"And if it happens again, I'll have to discipline you, Pup," smirked Calig.

"Oh yeah?" challenged Owyn.

"Yeah," huffed Calig. He reached over and grasped Owyn by the base of his knot. The larger firedog's knees quavered and he let out an acquiescent little rrrruff. Cal let go, but not before giving Owyn a playful nip on the cheek. Elan giggled. No one could yank a leash quite like Calig, not even Tyson.

"You know, Bones, you're a real control freak when you get the director's cha—” Owyns harrumphing was interrupted by the click of the door behind them.

“Are you all u— oh,” Tyson was framed in the doorway. His eyes raked over the lascivious tableau, all four of them frozen in place. “What are you all doing here? Am I, er, interrupting?”

“Hi Daddy,” cooed Elan, voice muffled from the pillows. “I’m sorry, I thought you weren’t coming over till Tuesday.”

“Mom’s having a girl’s night with her old roommates. Thought I'd stop by,” said Tyson. “Hope you’re not too busy with your, uh, photo shoot. Got any time for your old man.”

“Always have time for you, Daddy,” purred Elan, still face down, ass up.

Tyson licked his chops but was distracted when Calig circled in front of him, camera in hand. “Uh, speaking of, are you actually taking photos? Or is all this pomp’n circumstance just for Cal— What?! Don’t look at me like that! I know you like to watch!”

“Owyn can you tug on the plug a bi—I’m not that far gone, Ty! Tell a guy you like to watch sometimes and he acts like you need one leg in a Bewear trap to cum—Yeah, get it maybe haaaalfway out and hold it there.” Calig interspersed his direction with mumbled jabs at Tyson. Neither paid much attention. They had much more important things to fixate on than banter. Owyn gently teased Elan’s ring with the plug. Elan fought the instinct to writhe: he couldn't ruin the shot.

“That’s right, be a good girl and hold it just a bit more! Are you ready for the last bit?” coached Calig.

“Mmmmmyessss,” moaned Elan, eager to put on a show for his growing audience. Calig counted down. The plug was dislodged with a lewd pop. Elan arched his back theatrically as Cal got him from every angle. A steady trickle of precum pooled beneath Elan's quivering tip and the air was ripe with his gentle, sweet musk. The long day of temptation without relief and the sudden introduction of his favorite spectator so close he had to pull the bullet vibe out of his sheath. It lay buzzing dejectedly on a pillow.

Calig ran a single claw up the underside of Elan and tickled the base of the nearly-formed knot. “You know, I think we’ve got enough coverage, Babygirl.”

“I dunno,” rumbled Tyson. His belt clinked and the bed springs groaned. Powerful hands hotter even than Elan’s inner flame sunk into the eager flesh of his rump. His cheeks were parted effortlessly. Elan could tell Tyson must've been at full erection since he walked through the door by the way he twitched against his flesh. “I think we should do a couple more closeups, don’t you, Lovely?”

“Yes, 'Dearest,'” cooed Elan, sinking into the voice.

“Yeah,” huffed Owyn. He let his oversized malehood slap across Elan’s face still nestled in the pillows. The fire-fox's world was snuffed out by the massive black shaft, leaving nothing in his head except the heady scent of dick and woodsmoke.

“Yeah,” grunted Calig. He bumped Elan's muzzle with his own cock.

By some lecherous miracle, more than half of the pictures Call took were in focus. To be fair, he'd gotten really good at shooting with only one hand.