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Lunchtime on the farm, early July. Hot and humid. Air conditioners hummed (one in the living room, another in the adults' bedroom) and a portable fan whirred in the kitchen, where the family was gathered. "Om, nom, nom! Carrots and peas!" Charlie sang cheerfully as she scooped steamed veggies (warm but no longer hot) onto the twins' plates. In their high chars, Azalea and EJ immediately grabbed for the food with their paws. "Ah, ah! Where's Mr. Spoon? Heeere's Mr. Spoon!" The 28-year-old fox squirrel gave each of them a neon-colored kiddie spoon. "Just try it." Azalea looked at hers and nibbled on it, mousey whiskers twitching. EJ casually tossed his on the floor. "Ooh, you're asking for it, EJ!" Charlie retrieved and cleaned the spoon and gave it back to him, squinting. Seeing the look on his mother's face, the young squirrel decided to curtail his rebellion. While still refusing to use the spoon for eating, he at least kept it in his highchair this time. As a drumstick. Bam! Ba-bam! Ba-bam-bam-bam! Charlie took the spoon away, wagging it at him. "You're too young to be a rock star, Mister. Now, eat up!" EJ shoveled carrots and peas into his maw, brown sugar cheeks bulging. "Are you a chipmunk, now? Hmm?" she asked. "You're not fooling me! You gotta chew and swallow or it doesn't count." "Blehhh!" EJ spit it all back out, then started eating it piece by piece, eyes cautiously on his mother. "That's right. I got 'don't mess with mom' energy." Charlie flexed her arms. The cinnamon-silver squirrel (pelt a mix of handsome brown and grey with white spots on her backside) twirled and padded to the counter, setting EJ's spoon down and putting on an oven mitt to remove a rectangular pan from the oven. "If you behave, you can have dessert! Smell these! Mmmmmmm!" Raspberry oat crumble bars. All week long, she'd been taking the kits to pick wild black raspberries along the back fences of the property. There were hundreds of canes (thanks to the birds). Charlie mostly made jam with them, but she wasn't averse to a little baking! Azalea squeaked, nose sniffing at the sweet aroma. Charlie noticed Azalea had eaten the carrots but left the peas. "Part of behaving is finishing your lunch, missy. Don't you want to grow up to be big and strong like me?" The mouse pointed at her father. The older (by nine years over Charlie) gold-and-cream harvest mouse was reading the Arcadia Gazette, the thrice-weekly local newspaper. It had recently been taken over by Charlie's cousin, Geneva. (Emerson had to admit Geneva had improved the quality.) "Heh, you wanna be like daddy? You know I can beat him up, right?" "In theory," Emerson countered, biting into a forkful of salad. A few chews before adding, "Mommy and daddy don't fight." "We just wrestle," Charlie told the twins with a wink, turning off the oven. "Hmm. You knoowww ... the spoon would prob'ly be the Mrs! The fork is Mister. Heh. Eh, mouse-o?" "Huh?" "Get it?" "Get what?" he asked with a blink. "The fork bangs the spoon!" the squirrel said, as if giving the answer to a riddle. "I, uh, must've skipped that nursey rhyme," Emerson insisted, crunching on a celery stick. Oftentimes, he had no idea what track Charlie was on. "How else do you get sporks? Oh! Heh. And I bet the butter knife joins them for threesomes." A little smirk. "Like Queenie!" Emerson's tail curled into a vague question mark. "Why is she a butter knife?" he asked of Seldovia. The purple skunk (nicknamed 'Queenie') was Emerson's old high school classmate, longtime friend, and one-time (and current) lover. Well, his and Charlie's. What had begun as a one-off 'experience' between the three (instigated, of course, by Charlie) had developed into a polyamorous situation. "Heh, cause she's good at spreading her-" "Charlie ... not in front of the pups?" Emerson interrupted. "Kits!" she corrected. Emerson's whiskers twitched. Charlie grabbed a jar of 'white chocolatey wonderful' peanut butter, unscrewing the lid. Swirling EJ's kiddie spoon inside, she scooped peanut butter into her maw, eating it like it was ice cream. "Mm! Mmm." The squirrel smacked her lips. "Oh! Hey, Emmy." "Hey, what." The mouse turned the newspaper over, scanning the sports page. He was stalling a bit. After lunch, he had to return to the fields. It was prime wheat season. The crop had to be harvested first, separating the grain from the chaff, and then the stalks had to be mowed, raked, and baled into straw. Grain would be sold to the granary. Some of the straw would be sold (to orchards, garden stores) and some would be unloaded and stored in the loft of the barn (for selling in winter, when funds were low). "What should we get?" Charlie eventually asked. "For ... ?" "Queenie's birthday!" She set the peanut butter down and tossed the spoon into the sink. "She told us not to get her anything?" "No one ever means that! Have to get her something. It's the big 'Three-Eight'!" "I wouldn't call that 'big.' I mean ... forty is big." "Hmm. You'll be thirty-eight soon, too, so I guess that means I shouldn't make a big deal about your birthday? I shouldn't get you anything? Or do anything special?" Charlie asked. "I didn't say that ... " "Then help me out! What does she want? You've known her longer than me." "Um ... " The skunk was elegant and sophisticated. (As much as someone from a rinky-dink farming town could be.) But she lived in a small apartment above her diner on Main Street, so it wasn't like she had a house to hold a bunch of stuff? Nor did they have the money to get her anything fancy. Emerson shook his head, struggling to come up with anything. "I'm just glad you dropped the idea of a 'surprise party'," he said. Charlie couldn't keep a secret to save her life. The whole town, including Seldovia, would've found out in less than a day, if not an hour. "It's an un-surprise party! It's the same thing but in reverse." "That's ... literally not the same thing." Charlie counted the guests. "It'll be us, her, Akira and Roanoke. Also invited Persis and Braxton. Rikki and Aria. I texted Jen and Colfax but haven't heard back from them yet." Emerson nodded and kept eating, trying to let the squirrel wash over him. "Oh, heh ... I know what she needs," Charlie declared, putting the peanut butter back in the cabinet. When Emerson didn't ask about it, she teased in a singsong tone, "But yooou'lllll have to giiive it to herrrr!" Emerson took a drink of water. "Emmy!" "What?" "You'll have to give it to her!" Charlie repeated. "Why me?" "What if maaaybe you knocked her up!" the squirrel suggested brightly. The mouse nearly knocked over his water glass. "What?!" "It'd be so hot." Charlie slumped back against the counter, fanning herself with her tail. Emerson took a flustered breath. "You and your kinks." Perking upright, Charlie countered, "It's not kinky! She's practically part of the family already." She skipped a beat. "We'd just be making it super, super official!" "Charlie ... " "Or maybe you'd rather knock me up again?" the squirrel said, waggling her brows. "We can barely afford the twins!" Emerson said. "How are we going to make it with three?" "That's why Queenie should have one! It's genius. It'll still be ours- well, yours, which by extension is practically mine-but she can afford it! And I'd help co-mom, so she could still run the diner and be mayor." "It's not that simple. You're getting carried away." A huff. "Even more than usual." "Aw, come on, Emmy! Just indulge me a little." "A little? I indulge you all the time," he reminded incredulously, trying not to laugh. "Especially when it comes to, you know ... intimate stuff." "Stuff?" she echoed. "You mean sex? You can say 'sex' around me, Emmy. No reason to be polite when I've had my pussy on your face!" "I'm trying to watch my language around the kids," he re- emphasized. Their first words were going to be X-rated. Weren't they? Charlie looked to the twins, who were nearly finished with their carrots and peas. She waved at them. "They're fine!" Emerson sighed and shrugged. "Alright. How have I catered to your endless whims?" The mouse counted on his furless, white-clawed fingers. "I gave you them, first of all." A nod at EJ and Azalea. "Only cause my heat turned you feral," she bragged. "You know what I mean ... " Yes, the twins had been unplanned, but, still, "I made you a mom." "That was the least you could do ... daddy. Can't have a family farm without a family!" "I mean ... technically, that's true," he admitted, blushing at the nickname. "Is that all?" Charlie asked, unimpressed. "No! I've got more." "Mmh?" Charle said, paws on hips. Waiting. The twinkle in her eyes indicated she was enjoying this. "Let's hear it, then!" "I screw you on the tractor because you think it's sexy," he mentioned. "Hot," she confirmed with a sage nod. "Don't deny it." He opened his muzzle and shut it. It was sorta hot. Not exactly the most comfortable place to do it, but ... "You're so masculine on the tractor," she churred. "I, uh ... nursed from your breasts when you were lactating," the mouse continued. "Double hot! Literally, cause I got two boobs." A bucktoothed grin. "And, also, you loooved it." "I loved that you loved it," was his stubborn defense. "You don't need to lie to me, Emmy! You were harder to wean than the kits!" He blushed (obviously, that ... that wasn't true!) and continued, "Started a threesome with Seldovia." "That was my idea?" "Uh, yes?" Was she serious? "You're welcome!" the squirrel said cheerfully. Emerson exhaled and rubbed his cheeks. "Someone's flustered." Charlie went to the mouse, standing behind his chair and massaging his shoulders. "You have that effect on me ... " "Awww!" Emerson sighed as Charlie rubbed him. "You're so tense!" "Mmm." "Maybe you need to get laid! Speaking of which ... you gonna knock her up for me? Mm?" Charlie asked, kissing between his ears. "Heh. You don't give up, do you?" "Nope!" Emerson took a patient breath and reiterated, "Seldovia's had plenty of opportunities to get pregnant." The skunk's sultry reputation was well-earned. "I'm pretty sure she doesn't want it." "It doesn't hurt to ask!" "If you really want to make Seldovia part of our family, there's an easier way." "Like what?" "I mean, like ... " He took a breath, suggesting, "Make her the twins' godmother?" "Hmm. Like the movie?" "That's Godfather." "What's the difference?" "Bits and pieces," the mouse said slyly. "I meant between the movies!" "It's ... there is no 'Godmother' movie. I'm just-" He gave up and said, "In real life, the godparents would take care of the twins if something happened to us." "Well, if Queenie is the godmother, who will be the godfather?" "I don't know ... Colfax?" he suggested, of his cousin (who was mated to Geneva). "Keepin' it mousey. Hmm. Okay!" Charlie ruffled her mate's golden- blonde head-fur. Emerson squeaked! "I'll ask Queenie about it! But that doesn't mean you can't knock her up, too, someday." "Yeah, yeah." The mouse wriggled and reached up to grab one of her paws, holding, kissing the back of it. "I, uh, know you're really eager to expand our family, and ... and I wish I made more money to give you that directly ... " "You mean you looove having me big and preggers. Love my big belly and heavy tits." "Charlie ... " "Just admit it," the squirrel cooed. Short of breath, Emerson panted, "F-fine ... fine. I loved your pregnant body. Happy? But I love your regular body, too!" "You've got a fever, and the only prescription is more squirrel!" she declared. "Or maybe it's an acute case of bushytailitis." "What?" "You get inflamed by big, bushy tails! Mine. Queenie's." "I wouldn't say inflamed." He skipped a beat. "Influenced, maybe." "Wanna knock me and Queenie up? Together?" she blurted. The mouse cleared his throat. She wasn't letting this go, was she? "I mean, in theory, this all gets me going, but ... fantasy and reality aren't the same thing, Charlie." "I know that!" "Do you?" he asked with an uncertain squint. "Silly." The squirrel planted a kiss between his ears. Another squeak. The squirrel sashayed away, letting Emerson strew in his arousal as she posed, "What if she asks you for it? What if she gets on all fours and begs?" "She wouldn't do that." The mouse finally folded up his paper and got out of his chair, carrying his empty plate and cup to the sink. "Yeah. You're right." A bucktoothed grin. "She'd make you beg!" The squirrel faced him and huffed, standing slightly taller (and a bit heavier). "Me? What about you?" "I can't knock her up," the squirrel said smartly. Charlie hugged the mouse, whispering into a dishy ear, "Maybe Queenie could eat me out while you two are banging? I could straddle her face and make out with you." "Well-" The mouse cleared his throat. "I don't know ... I, uh, I mean if both of you really wanted it, if she came to me and, uh, personally ... I'd ... I'd think harder about it," he mumbled, all this talk really getting to him now. "You'd get harder, alright. But no need to think, Emmy." She slipped a paw under his shirt, scratching his belly. "You know thaaat ... " Her bronze paw shifted course, sliding downward. Into his jeans. Into his underwear. A gasp! "Theres my mouse-o. I knew I'd gotten you hard," Charlie bragged, squeezing his shaft, wagging her thumb over the dribbling glans. "I could see your ears flushing." She stroked him. "Feel good?" "Ah! Mmm ... " He nodded dumbly. "Wanna put it in me?" "Charlie ... " "Say it." "I ... yes. I wanna!" "Wanna what?" "Put it in you." "Put what in me?" "I wanna fuck you," he said more aggressively. "Mmmm. How bad?" She stroked him faster. Base to tip. "Would you knock up Queenie to have my pussy?" "Anything!" he groaned. Charlie huffed, removing her paw from his pants and stripping her shirt off. No bra. She never wore one. "Don't ... don't you think the twins need a nap? Or something?" the mouse said semi-responsibly, struggling to stay composed as he stared at his mate's warm, earthy-hued breasts. He may have even-subconsciously, of course!-licked his lips. "Huh? Oh!" Charlie removed he paw from the mouse's jeans. "Deffo nap time!" Emerson blew out a breath, ears on fire. "Sorry, kiddos! Daddy's distracting me." "Me?!" the mouse echoed. All he'd been doing was reacting to her! The squirrel removed the twins from their highchairs, carrying one in each arm like wriggling, squeaky straw bales. She didn't put her shirt back on. They'd seen her breasts plenty of times! "Clear the table, mouse-o!" "Uh-huh," Emerson went, blowing out a breath and undoing his belt. In town, at the grocery store she owned, Akira rang up Geneva's items. Bandages, ibuprofen, Oreos, and condoms (shape: rodent). "That'll be 19.96," Akira said, tapping at a touchscreen monitor. As Geneva took a shiny blue card out of her purse, the Asian 'short- clawed' otter couldn't resist a fanged smile. "I knew lynxes were hardcore ... it is lynxes, right? The plural?" "What else would it be?" the fluffy, minty-green cat asked, with the slightest of Canadian accents. She stood a head taller than the petite mustelid. Built for cold climates, Geneva was dealing with the humid (read: suffocating), Indiana summer as best she cold: by wearing as little as possble: a short white tank top with spaghetti straps (and no bra beneath it) that exposed much her belly and a 'thigh-high' hot pink 'grunge' skirt, her panties visible when she moved just right. "Well, I thought you might be like fish? Fish is fish. Lynx is lynx?" "I do like fish," Geneva said, sticking her card in the reader. "But it's lynxes." "Ah. Good to know." A pause. "Should I be worried for Colfax?" the red velvet otter asked, of Geneva's mate. A harvest mouse. One of Emerson's many cousins. "With an order like this, I mean?" "Are grocers beholden to some sort of 'customer/grocer' confidentiality?" "No," Akira said as she bagged everything up. "Eh. I'm coming into heat," Geneva admitted with a casual shrug. She wasn't one for discretion, anyway. "Not now. But soon. Eventually?" A pause. "Next week-ish." "I've heard felines can be especially ... demanding." "I've been known to get claws-y," Geneva said matter-of-factly. "Heh. Well, just try not to break him." "He'll be fine. Charlie taught me how to handle him," she said, "since we have something in common." "That's the ruuumor," Akira said in a light, singsong tone. Being best friends with Charlie, the otter had heard all about her and Geneva's cousinly 'canoodles.' Not refuting the insinuation, the lynx explained dryly, "I meant we both mated harvest mice." "Oh, right. Well." Akira's rudder-tail steered about. "Squeak happens!" Her mate was one, too. A mouse, that is. Though Roanoke's species was different: 'Merle piebald.' "Seems to," Geneva went as she took her bag. She was already melting, and she was indoors. Akira handed her the receipt and asked, "Sure you don't need water, too?" "I'll be fine," the cat said stubbornly. Akira shrugged and pointed out, "You'll get crumbs all over the sheets, you know." "Hmm?" "The cookies." "What makes you think I'll be eating them in bed?" "They're double-stuffed." The lynx smirked (showing plenty of fang) and left the store. "Heh." Akira watched her go. Though they were wildly different physically, Akira could see a lot of commonalities between Geneva and Charlie. They both had larger-than-life personalities and were social wrecking balls. Maybe it ran in the family? If so, poor Emerson was going to have his paws full when EJ and Azalea got older! "Oh, hey! Jen! Over here!" Charlie called, emerging from an old, rusty-red pickup truck in the small parking lot behind Akira's. Not waiting for an answer, the squirrel bounded out and scampered forward, tail undulating wildly in the scorching sunlight. "Goddamn, Charlie, it's too hot to come at me like that," the lynx complained, putting her grocery bag in the back seat of her car before sluggishly opening the driver's side door, tongue hanging out of her maw. "I am pretty hot!" Charlie agreed, cinnamon-spotted tail fluffing upright. Geneva, getting in her car but leaving the door open, gave her cousin a lazy, brown-eyed look. "What's up?" "Emmy's watching the kits while I run some quick errands." "That's nice." Geneva, uninterested, nodded and tried to shut the door. Charlie grabbed it and pried it back open. "You're coming to the party, right?!" "That's tonight?" "Yup!" The cranky, summer-hating lynx blew out a breath. Her whiskers were wilting. "Who's it for again?" "Queenie!" Huh? Oh, right ... you mean Mayor Seldovia?" "Yeah, Queenie!" the squirrel repeated. "Are you coming, though? You have to bring Colfax! There's gonna be caaake!" The feline gave a low growl as she mulled. "What about ice cream? I'll only come if there's ice cream." "Vanilla!" "That's it?" "Vanilla bean," the squirrel stressed, "with my fresh homemade black raspberry compote for topping! Also, chocolate chips." "Hmm." The lynx shrugged. "Alright. Yeah. I can get behind that." "Great! And wear that get-up. You look smokin'!" The lynx held back a flattered smile and continued, "I can't promise I'll have fun, though. People don't like me at parties." "Sure they do!" "Nah. I intimidate them." You are very apex-y," the squirrel told the predator, "But you don't intimidate me! I've seen you naked!" The lynx made a face, not sure if that was a compliment or not. "Well! Emmy's still gotta do fieldwork, so I guess I shouldn't dawdle! Ha!" "No one could ever accuse you that," the lynx assured, shutting the door of her car and turning it on, sighing with relief as the air conditioning whipped through her long, fluffy fur at full Arctic blast. The door to the mayor's office creaked open. Gap enough for Charlie to stick her head through. "Anybody hooome?" she asked cheerfully. "Charlie! Yeah, come in," Seldovia said, seated behind an old, wooden desk covered with stuff. Papers, folders, picture frames, a copy of the Arcadia Gazette (identical to what Emerson had been reading). "What's up?" "Was at Akira's, so thought I'd visit you across the street at the diner. But they said you were down here!" 'Down here' being 'town hall,' two blocks south. "Only for a few hours," the skunk replied, leaning back in her swivel chair. Being mayor of a town of one thousand people wasn't exactly a 'full time' job, especially when she had a co-mayor (in Rikki, the Malabar squirrel). "What's the business, today?" "Looking at applications for a new town librarian. Current one's retiring. Gotta make my pick and give it to Akira and the Town Council. They'll look it over and vote yes or no." "Who you leaning toward?" Seldovia showed her the resume. "A red panda?" Charlie said. "I was just telling Emmy how bushy tails rule!" "Heh. I can't argue that," Seldovia reasoned, putting the resume aside. "But her qualifications are good." "Right, right. So! Do skunks have kits or pups?" the squirrel wondered, tilting her head. "What?" The skunk tilted her purple, white-striped head. "Um. Kits." "Hah, yes! Team kits! Mice call them pups. But two moms overrule one dad, am I right?" "Two?" Seldovia asked, brow furrowing. "Oh, right! I forgot to say: what if you had a kit with me an' Emmy?" Seldovia blinked. "Well, technically, it'd be with him ... but! I can be group mom! You've got two jobs, and I don't. You can keep working, and I'll help raise it. Our kits would be half-siblings!" The skunk blinked again. Charlie waited for a verbal response, bobbing on her bare foot-paws. "If I really wanted kits, dear, it would've happened by now," Seldovia said as gently as she could. "It's not for lack of opportunity." "You can get it for sure," Charlie agreed. "It's just not for me. I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but-" "S'okay! Emmy knew what your answer would be, so he prepared me. But I had to ask!" "Well, I appreciate your enthusiasm," the skunk assured, swiveling her chair to face the squirrel. "Anything for my mayor." "Anything?" she echoed with a cheeky undertone. "Anything," Charlie repeated with an exaggerated drawl (she couldn't pull off sultry). "Maybe you'll find out after your party tonight!" "That so?" "Yup! And we've got something special to ask you, too. Not the 'knocked up' thing, something else. Be there or be square!" Charlie said before scampering off. "What's it like?" Standing in the evening shade, Colfax removed a cold, silvery spoon from his muzzle, swirling it through his dish of vanilla ice cream. "Tasty!" He licked his lips. "The black raspberry topping ... mmm! Charlie is such a good cook!" "She is talented in the kitchen," Emerson confirmed, thinking of their lunchtime tryst. "No, I meant ... you know," Roanoke said, lowering his voice, the breeze rustling his fur. "Being mated to a predator?" The piebald mouse, still wearing his button-up shirt from the town bank (he was the main teller), was hanging out with Emerson and Colfax in Emerson and Charlie's backyard, where Seldovia's birthday party was being held. They'd finished dinner and were on to dessert. "I don't really think about it," Colfax said. "Never?" Roanoke echoed. Geneva had only been in town for a few months, but the lynx was already one of Arcadia's most famous faces. A cat/mouse pairing? Not exactly common. In some circles, it was a little taboo! There was a chattering noise nearby. Braxton the beaver was playing 'cornhole' with Mayor Rikki while Persis and Aria (their partners) watched and chatted. The neon orange 'painted' bat really stood out next to the white, erudite snow rabbit. "Aren't you mated to a predator, too?" Emerson reminded Roanoke, rescuing his cousin. Colfax and Emerson looked remarkably alike. Warm, golden fur with creamy-white necks and middles. Pink, prehensile tails. Blue eyes. Both dressed in worn, casual 'farm' clothes. Emerson was a few inches taller, though, with a more athletic build. Colfax came off as more delicate, as if he'd been the 'runt' of his family. "No! I mean ... technically, I guess, maybe? Otters ... is fish considered a meat?" Roanoke asked, holding a plate with a slice of cake on it. With a fork, he brought some to his mouth and took a big, sweet bite. "Anyway." He chewed. "You know what I mean. Lynxes are on apex mountain!" Colfax, shy even by mouse standards, echoed, "Apex ... mountain?" "The peak." "Oh." "Sooooo," Roanoke drawled, "what's she like?" "You'll have to forgive him, Cole. He's a banker. He has to get his excitement somehow," Emerson ribbed. "She sheds more than me," Colfax offered. "Her pelt is so thick! She hates this humid weather." "We've noticed," Emerson said slowly, nibbling on a crispy snickerdoodle cookie and eying the scantily clad lynx, who he'd been with before (alongside Charlie). The minty Canadian cat and tomboy fox squirrel were currently chatting with Seldovia near the food (which was on a card table). "Emerson?" Roanoke said, appealing to his friend while taking another bite of cake. "Mm?" The harvest mouse's attention snapped back. "Tell him what I mean?" Emerson sighed, obliging. "He's not asking about her personality, Cole. He wants to know-" "Is she always the aggressor?" Roanoke interrupted. "Or does she let you lead?" Colfax blushed, ears getting rosy. "Oh. Uh." He swallowed, stirring his ice cream into soft serve. "Well, if ... if you must know ... " "What's a group of mice called, again?" Seldovia asked, watching the male mouse trio from across the backyard (from under the shade of a big sycamore tree; one of three behind the house, which Charlie had dubbed the 'three sisters.') "Omf, mmmf." Cake crumbs spilled off Charlie's whiskers and to the grass. "That's easy. A 'nest'." "Cute." "But! They can also be a 'horde,' which is way more badass." Looking them over, the fox squirrel squinted and decided, "Mm, mmf, yeahhh." She licked her lips, finished with her cake. "Yup. They're deffo a horde right now. Look! Their ears are blushing. Must be plotting." "Plotting what?" Seldovia asked, adjusting her hold on baby Azalea. The year-old mouse was squirming in her new godmother's arms (Chalie and Emmy had officially given Seldovia the 'job' an hour ago, and she'd graciously accepted). "Their ears are blushing cause it's hotter than hell," Geneva grumbled, staring down baby EJ (who was on all fours on the ground in front of her). EJ looked at the fluffy lynx with wide, curious eyes, his little squirrel tail flicking about. "Plotting mischief!" "Of the general variety ... or something specific?" "She means sex," Geneva said. "Heh. Emmy's probably telling them what he has planned for the birthday girl!" Charlie told the skunk with a wink. "Does horniness qualify as horde-ish?" the skunk asked with a smirk. "With Emmy? For sure! He's a troublemaker." "He never used to be," the skunk quipped. Charlie had rubbed off on the mouse more than the two of them could appreciate from up- close. But Seldovia could see it clearly. Not that it was a bad change! "He gets into trouble, alright," Geneva said, casting a glance at Charlie. "Hah! He's gotten into all three of us," Charlie bragged, not being shy about it. "Yeah, cause o' you! That's what I'm saying. You're trouble. You're a ringleader." "Aw!" Charlie replied, taking it as a compliment. Seldovia, reigning in the conversation, continued, "So, we got a nest of mice-" "Horde!" "-and squirrels?" "We're a 'drey'!" "Huh?" "It's just another word for 'nest'," Geneva explained, on her second serving of ice cream. She'd opted for cones over a dish despite how quick it was melting. She liked to lick. It was a feline thing. EJ, wanting the sweet, cold treat, tugged on Geneva's leg-fur. "Sorry, kiddo." "Well, it's better than a group of cats. A clowder? Pshh! You might as well be clams!" Charlie said, picking EJ up off the grass and booping him on the nose. "Never seen you turn down my chowder," Geneva said, an innuendo on Charlie's all-gender 'oral' skills. Seldovia giggled at the cousins' playful bickering. "Oh, hey, what's a group of skunks?" "A pheromone bomb," Geneva guessed. "We're a 'surfeit'." "That's so fancy! No wonder you're called 'Queenie'." There was a noisy commotion as Braxton beat Rikki in their cornhole game and Persis and Aria swapped placed with them. Geneva crunched on her ice cream cone. Azalea upped the ante on her wriggling. Now, she wanted ice cream, too! "Here. Trade me," Charlie said, handing EJ to Seldovia and taking Azalea for herself. "Hey, Jen! Persis is waving at you? Think they want you to play!" "She's not waving at me. She's waving at you." Charlie was the bat's friend. Geneva barely knew her. "Oh. Well, I've got my paws full. Literally! Play for me!" "I've never even played cornsquare." "Cornhole." "Whatever." "Come onnnn," the squirrel goaded. "Bats aren't great at throwing things!" Charlie pointed out. "She needs someone to sub for her!" "I don't sub for anyone." "Phhhfft! You know what I mean." "Fine." The cat crunched on the remainder of her ice cream cone, licking her lips. She unsheathed her claws. "I'll kick some tails." "Yay!" "Ooh, snow cat versus snow rabbit? Might be worth watching," Seldovia said. "The match of the century!" Charlie declared over-enthusiastically. Finesse versus force? Logic versus emotion? American versus Canadian? It had it all! Charlie waved at Emerson while juggling EJ. "Mouse-o! Epic beanbag showdown!" Confused, Emerson just gave a thumbs up, lingering in place until Akira called Roanoke over to the match as well. Emerson and Colfax, finally realizing what was going on, followed the piebald. Soon, the ten adults (and two kits) were gathered together. "I'd roll up my sleeves if I was wearing any," Geneva told the group, flexing for show, giving her skimpy tank top a ceremonial tug. It didn't come close to covering her belly. Her nubby tail steered about. "So, what are the rules here?" "Standard ACA," Aria said crisply. The snow rabbit was serious and aloof by nature. Arctic species tended to be that way. "Am I supposed to know what that means?" "American Cornhole Association." "Of course." The lynx rolled her golden eyes, asking, "How many throws do we get?" "Four per inning." "Okay ... " The feline picked up her bean bags. Square and lumpy. She juggled them for a second, eying the 'board of play.' It was twenty-odd feet away. "And how many innings?" "The number is not fixed. Simply, whoever scores '21' first will be declared the winner." Aria, ears tall (and clearly a 'sticker' for rules), added, "There are two ways to score. One point for landing a bag on the board. Or three for sliding it into the hole." Charlie snickered. Emerson looked her way. The fox squirrel batted her eyes at him. Seldovia, gently rocking EJ, told the group, "Whenever I've played, you have to get exactly '21' points. If you go over, you get re-set back to '14'?" "That is correct," Aria replied. "What? That's stupid," Geneva said. "It'll take forever that way." "It is the 'Exact 21 Rule' and has been adopted by most competitive cornhole leagues." "Mmm. How do you know so much about this ... 'rustic' pastime?" Geneva said, filtering her phrasing. ('Hillbilly toss' would've sounded antagonizing. Even if accurate! She may have been a city cat, but she was amongst country critters now.) "You're from Alaska." "My talents lie in many areas." "True," Rikki echoed slyly. The snow rabbit quirked a brow at the tall, rainbow-colored squirrel, but her eyes glinted with what could only be some sort of amusement. "Bet you were a teacher's pet, too," Geneva said. Persis flapped her orange-and-black wing-arms. "Look, I don't mean to interrupt all this 'trash talk,' but ... let's start the game? It's roasting out here! Braxton already won the first round and Geneva's subbing for me. It's best two out of three, so if she wins, we win, and we can all go home." She skipped a beat. "Not that we're in a hurry to go! But, uh ... also, Seldovia still has to open her presents." Persis glanced at Charlie and Emerson after saying this. All assembled (and the whole town, really) knew about the 'throuple' situation between Emerson, Charlie, and Seldovia. "I'm going first! I call dibs," Geneva quickly declared. "There is nothing in the rules about 'dibs'," Aria replied calmly. The lynx growled. The snow rabbit relented. "However ... " Geneva prepared for her first toss. She readied her arm, huffed, and looked to Colfax. "Mousey. Kiss it for good luck." The shy, reserved harvest mouse came forward to kiss the beanbag. "My paw," the lynx insisted. "Oh!" The mouse kissed the back of her big, fluffy throwing paw. Blowing out a breath, Geneva, fighting the oppressive heat and trying to ignore the noisy-ass cardinal trilling like a melodic drill in the trees, tossed her first bag. The feline didn't know her own strength apparently. It went further than the board by several feet! Landing in the grass with a soft thud. Charlie clapped. "You got this, Jen! Let's go! Whoooo!" "Mm." The lynx frowned and tossed her second bag. This one did land on the board but skidded up the smooth, tilted surface and zipped over the top side. The aggressive cat struggled to hide her frustration. "Take a deep breath," Colfax suggested, coming up beside her, gingerly touching her sides. Geneva closed her eyes, did so, and nodded. Her third toss landed on the board. One point! Her fourth toss knocked the third toss through the hole. "Does that count as three?" Geneva asked Aria. The snow rabbit nodded. "Hah! Four points!" the lynx bragged, pumping a fist. Aria, not responding, stood in tossing position while the board was cleared. She then launched all four of her beanbags in quick succession, like they were being fired from a machine gun. Board, hole, hole, board. "Eight points for my bun!" Rikki declared. Geneva narrowed her eyes, growled, and prepared for the second inning. "Ah, ah! Ah, hey, w-wait ... " "What's ... what's wrong?" Emerson panted. "You guys hear that?!" Charlie suddenly asked, lips glazed with Seldovia's saliva. "Huh?" "Hear whaaaat?" the skunk moaned, on her back beneath the grinding, gyrating couple. All she could hear was them. And the rattle-creaking of the bed. It was ninety minutes after the cornhole game (Aria had won the inning but Braxton and Persis' team won the match). The sun was setting, slanting its warm, saturated light through the window and upon Emerson's pert, raised rump. The golden, glowing mouse was behind both girls, humping Charlie (gripping her hips and wearing her bushy tail like a scarf) while simultaneously drilling Seldovia's depths with his fleshy, prehensile tail while the girls made out. "I d-don't hear a-an ... ah, ahh!" Emerson's eyes scrunched shut. His ears swiveled, but all they could focus on was the erotic soundtrack their bodies were composing. Squelching, slapping. Huffing and puffing. Balls smacking at fur- matted loins. The gravity of release was pulling at him like a Siren. The inertia was too much! Until a shrill, squeaky wail pierced the air, coming from the twins' room. "Gahh!" Emerson went, eyes flying open as Charlie swiftly pulled off him, leaving his glistening, rock-hard cock twitching with need. The fox squirrel was already off the bed, ears cocked, tail fluttering to full, upright position. Emerson, on all fours on the sheets, exchanged a delirious glance with Seldovia before panting on her shoulder. The skunk combed her clawed fingers through his head-fur. The crying was practically screeching, now. The high, unignorable pitch meant it had to be Azalea instead of EJ. (Squirrel sounds were much barkier and chirpy.) "I'll be back!" Charlie swore, holding up a paw as a 'badge of honor.' "Don't finish without me!" she said, pointing at her mate. "Emmy? You promise?" "Y-yeah ... okay ... " "Coming, Zee!" Not bothering with clothes, the naked squirrel dashed away. Emerson did a full flop onto his chest beside the skunk, burying his face in a pillow. It muffled a groan. Seldovia giggled, lazily rolling onto her side to face him. "How close?" she wondered. "Close," he emphasized, un-pillowing his face. "You gonna be okay?" He shimmied fully onto his side, facing his green-eyed, lavender lover. "That depends." "On?" "How long she takes." "Aw. Don't worry, mousey. If your balls turn blue, I'll resuscitate them," Seldovia promised. "Yeah?" "Mmh. I'm helpful like that. A little CPR with my paws? Carefully, of course." She drew an invisible heart on his white chest. "Followed by direct 'mouth to mouth' ... with my pussy," she said huskily. "Don't you mean 'mouse to mouth'?" "Even better." Emerson huffed, imagining it. He could almost feel it! "That, uh ... that just might do it." Seldovia giggled again. Emerson reminded, "Charlie said not to finish without her, though." And Charlie was his mate, not Seldovia. Her wishes came first. The skunk, re-shifting to her back, folded her paws behind her head. "Who says I'd finish you?" Knees bent, striped tail flowing off the bedside, so cool and collected, Seldovia was a picture of traditionally elegant, feminine desire. A wholly different vibe than Charlie's blunt, happy-go-lucky tomboy energy. "I might just edge you senseless," Seldovia continued. Emerson swallowed. She casually changed the subject (momentarily letting Emerson off the hook). "I can't believe Charlie heard that crying before we did. Didn't know squirrels' hearing was better than ours?" "It isn't." Both mice and skunks were equal to (or stronger than) squirrels in that area. "She's just ... younger. And it comes with her- " He twirled his paws and made a clicking sound. "'Supermom' powers." "Heh. Supermom. Does that make you Superdad?" "Hardly." "You're selling yourself short. I think you make a good one!" "Really?" "Mmhmm. You're thoughtful, caring, fair. A steady, masculine paw. I see how the twins look at you." "How?" "With admiration." "I don't know." A blush. "With Charlie, motherhood feels innate. Instinctual. Me and fatherhood? I'm still learning the ropes." The calculus would no doubt change as the twins got older, too. When they were teenagers and he was in his 50's? Oh, gosh. There was a moment of silence between them, filled by the steady background hum of the air conditioner in the south-facing window. The sunlight was growing dimmer. Emerson piped back up with, "She, uh ... she wants you to be one, too. You know?" "Super?" the skunk echoed coyly. "No. A mom." He skipped a beat. "More than a godmother, I mean." "Oh, I'm aware. She told me. In the mayor's office, no less." "Heh. I hope that didn't go down in the official hours ... " "Since I'm my own secretary, I left it out." Seldovia joked. "But! She never said if you wanted it. Just that you'd do it." "I mean, if you both ... if you two wanted it, I'd want it, too," was Emerson's non-answer. "But do you want it on your own?" It should've been an easy yes-or-no, but he found himself rambling. "Me? It takes two to tango, three to ... well, do whatever we're doing." A squeak. "It's hard to answer this right now." "Why's that?" she asked. "I'm pent-up, and we're both ... getting up to stuff ... " "Stuff? I think you're the one who's been doing the stuffing, mousey. I'm just along for the ride." "Ha! You're not that innocent." He exhaled, saying, "Your pheromones are ... are, uh ... yeahhh." Strong. Her 'good' spray. His nose tingled. She'd perfumed the air with them, knowing the effect it had on the rodents. Last time she'd done that, her scent had lingered in the bedroom for days! "You're making me want to do you." Seldovia flashed him a toothy smile (owning the accusation). "So, I can't be objective." "Sex is never objective, and my question can't be separated from sex," Seldovia pointed out smartly. "So, I'm wanting a subjective answer." She turned back to him, caressing his trim, butterscotch hip. Starting to stroke his side. "I see ... " "You can be honest with me, mousey. We've known each other since we were kids." They were both 'lifers' in Arcadia and had come up through school together. Neither went to college. He'd gone straight into farming, and she'd ended up opening her diner (and recently running for mayor). "I won't judge you." The mouse, ears hot, bit his lip before admitting, "Okay. Yeah, then ... I'd ... I'd like to get you pregnant." A sharp exhale. "When Charlie brought up the idea, I thought it was crazy. But the more she went on about it? The more I fantasized." He took a breath. "I've been thinking about it all day." "No need to be embarrassed, sweetie. I'm flattered," the skunk assured. "You are?" "I'm not called 'Queenie' for nothing! You may have noticed, but I have a weakness for attention. Being praised, being treated like royalty." She wiggled closer to him. "And you wanting to do that to me? And knowing you'd stick around for the result, that you'd worship me like a fertility goddess? It's exciting. And rather romantic." "Romantic? Heh. Really? Isn't it just a kink or a fetish?" he asked, ears blushing with embarrassment. What was the difference, exactly? "I mean, I really didn't know how much it excited me until it happened ... with Charlie, I mean. That whole experience unlocked a bit of, uh, something. And she knows it. Uses it to wind me up." "Kinks can be romantic," the skunk assured. "It comes down to intent. Is it solely for yourself? Or do you also get off on doing it for ... or with the other person? Since both you and Charlie seem to share the same 'interest' ... and liked doing it with each other? And want to do it to me? I'd qualify that as romantic." "Maybe." Emerson blushed. Folding her paws behind her head, the skunk looked to the ceiling. "Trying to imagine myself with a 'curvy, smokin' bod and rockin' tits'." "Is that how she pitched it to you?" Seldovia laughed. "She casually mentioned it during the party. She has a way with words." "That's one way to put it," Emerson mumbled. A pause before insisting, "I think you already have a 'curvy, smokin' bod and rockin' tits'." "Kind words for a MILF." "MILF?" "Mustelid I'd Like to Fuck." Emerson laughed. Lowering her paws to he belly, she asked, "Would you ... ?" "Would I what?" "Like to fuck me." "What do you think you're doing in my bed?" he asked with a smile. "Currently? Not being fucked." Snuggling up to his lover, Emerson fondled one of her soft, plush breasts. "I don't mean to keep my Queen waiting." A sigh, pushing his nose through the skunk's pelt. "I'm too much of a 'gentle-mouse,' sometimes." "Oh, I've seen you lose control before." "Yeah, but it takes effort for me. I almost have to try. Meanwhile, Charlie's so naturally impulsive! Carefree by nature. Bounding from limb to limb, leaping without looking." "That's squirrels for you." Rikki was the same way. Their governing styles were wildly opposite. "We're such an odd couple. Odd, uh, couples," he corrected with the plural. "Me and her. Me and you. You and her." "Normal is overrated. You're the cutest pair I know. Not to mention the most interesting. And I'm not saying that just cause I'm screwing you both." "Heh. Sure." After a pause, Seldovia reiterated, "I don't want to be a mom. I'd much rather be a cool aunt. You know? That hands out treats and sweets. Spoils appetites." The skunk's baking was the main draw of her diner. "But I'm honored to be your twins' godmother." "We really can't afford more kids, anyway. Not even vicariously." Just because Seldovia could didn't mean Emerson wouldn't need to share fiscal responsibility. Charlie's aging aunt and uncle farmed the neighboring property. They hadn't announced any intention to retire, but the mouse and squirrel hoped to acquire their land when they did. That would improve their financial situation (though, unfortunately, also the workload), and then ... well. "There's nothing wrong with fantasizing, though." The skunk sniffed at his cheek before licking his fur. "You're in my fantasies. I'd expect to be in yours." Emerson smiled. "You fantasize about me?" "Why wouldn't I?" The only reason she'd initially entertained this threesome was because of Emerson's involvement. She hadn't known Charlie at all back then (other than she was a cute Canadian ball of fire). "I know, but you could have anyone in town. You're the mayor." "And I want your vote," Seldovia insisted. Her muzzle closed in on his. "And by vote, my rugged farmboy ... mmm, I mean your penis." They kissed. Passionately, for several seconds. "Can I ... I vote more than once?" he breathed as their lips parted. "Not legally, but I won't tell." They kissed again and Emerson rolled on top of her, grinding his loins to her legs, which the skunk spread and locked around him. Noses touched, whiskers brushed. Eyes met again. Another kiss. This one shorter, followed by mutual panting. "You're welcome to try to knock me up as much as you want, mousey." "Ahh ... yeah?" he sighed, sucking on her cheek as he rubbed his cock along her puffy, pouty vulva. "Practice makes perfect." Her claws dug into his golden rump. "Mm, I love you," the mouse blurted. "I love you, too." They kissed again. This one unbroken, hungry. The mouse was this close to penetrating her when- "Awwwww!" came Charlie's voice. The mouse rolled off Seldovia, chest heaving, glancing at the bedroom door. "That's soooo sweet!" The squirrel, clasping her paws, chittered and jumped back into bed, bouncing on her shins, breasts flopping about. Her tail whooshed all around. "How long were you in the doorway?" Seldovia asked with a smirk, fluffy tail meeting and meshing with Charlie's. "Heh, long enough to hear the gooey talk," Charlie said. "Do you luuuuv me, too?" "You know I do," Emerson insisted, giving her an impatient, hungry look. She beamed, tracing his whiskers with her claws. "How much?" "Lots." "Hmm. I feel awful forgetful, today. You might have to convince me! What about you, Queenie?" "I'll show you anytime you want. But right now would be preferable," the skunk insisted, flashing big-time 'bedroom eyes.' "Heh heh." "So, you're back for good?" Emerson asked his mate, eager to move past the verbal lovefest and return to actually making love. "I can't take much more teasing ... " "Mm? Oh! Yeah, I settled Azalea down." Charlie's gaze flowed down her mate's nimble, gold-and-cream body. To his erection. She straddled her mate, grinding against his cock. "Mmm. You were about to fuck Queenie, weren't you? When I came back?" "Um ... maaaybe?" "Be honest! Or I'll tickle you!" "Heh, fine. I, uh ... yeah. I was about to." "Heh. Naughty!" Emerson blushed. "Still want to?" she asked in a singsong tone, booping her mate on the nose. "Well, it is her birthday," the mouse insisted, applying logic to the offer. "Right-o! And a birthday cake needs icing! Unless they make cream- filled cakes?" "In me, on me. As long as I get it." Seldovia smiled, holding to one of Charlie's paws. "Let's reverse positions from earlier. You lay beneath me while Emmy gets behind us." "Mmf. Yesss. Use your tail on me, Emmy!" "Don't worry, you'll get yours," the harvest mouse promised with a hint of dominance. The conversation ended there. Soon, the three were piled on each other, hot and huffing. Bumping, grinding. Writhing! Tails swishing, fur flying. Emerson buried his thick, pink cock in the skunk's pussy. His maw fell open, buckteeth jutting. She felt different from Charlie. He wasn't in the right head space to detail how. But, oh, she did. "Uhh," he grunted with animal delight, slamming into the skunk's pink, perfect pussy again and again. "Uh, uh! Uhhnnn!" The skunk growled, sucking on Charlie's face. The squirrel, beneath her older lovers, stuck her tongue into Seldovia's maw. They traded hot, sloppy kisses, delighting in their boobs squishing together and their fluffy tails meshing. Emmy, meanwhile, drilled his mate with his ropy tail, as if trying to strike oil. Or, in this case, Charlie's endless well of desire. Charlie, between kisses, yelled, "Show her who's daddy, Emmy! H- hahh ... fuuuuuck!" For all of Seldovia's teasing about edging Emerson, the skunk actually came before the rodents. Her purple body seized up, back arching, stripey tail fluttering as she moaned into Charlie's neck. Sex in fluttery, muscular spasms. "I got you, Queenie," Charlie cooed, hugging her close, eyes rolling back as Emerson tried to double down on his dual penetration. But Seldovia cumming around him? There was no plowing through that. The mouse tensed and faltered, burying his big, white balls against her wet, pouty sex, gasping and squeaking as he filled her with his seed. Spurt after spurt. So much it was already dribbling back out. Charlie, rubbing her clit, wriggled beneath her companions. Her own touch combined with Emmy's tail and the knowledge that they'd both just cum their brains out on top of her? She soon joined them, barking enthusiastically. Clearing their shared, climactic peak, they emerged as a hot, panting fur-pile on the bed. Slumped in silence for half-a-minute. "W-wow," Emerson eventually mumbled as he sloppily pulled out of the skunk, shaking his hazy head. He slumped on one side of Seldovia. Charlie on the other. They both hugged and nuzzled the skunk, who churred with delight. When the afterglow (and pheromones) began to fade, the mouse became aware of how matted, sticky, and messy they all were. And what they'd done to the sheets? Yikes. Oh, and it was still the stifling, muggy peak of summer! "I need a shower," he told the girls. "We all do." "Since you got Queenie this time, I wanna shower alone with her!" Charlie insisted. "Why? What are you going to do in there?" Emerson teased. "Shampoo our tails," Charlie said, sticking her tongue out. Emerson, unsure if that was literal or a euphemism, looked to Seldovia. "I don't kiss and tell," the skunk said (which was patently untrue; the skunk's exploits always got out). "Uh-huh. Sure, okay, but I'm going first." Ears still red with blood, the mouse (the shortest of the three) got out of bed. He wobbled unsteadily for a second. Charlie groped his pert ass. "Eek!" "Heh heh." "I'm staying the night?" Seldovia asked, sitting up and stretching. "Of course!" "I'll change the sheets when you two shower," the mouse said. He paused. Crawling back onto the bed, he added, "Happy birthday, Seldovia." He pecked a kiss to her lips. "Thanks, mousey." "Yeah, happy birthday, Queenie," Charlie said, playing with the skunk's tail. "Did all your wishes come true?" The skunk, with a happy, hazy look, smiled at them both. "Not all." But, at this rate, it'd happen soon enough!