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1: Mayberry Commons

Sophomores and above at Westshore have two choices when it comes to living: take their chances with random, off-campus housing, or move into Mayberry Commons, which is still off campus, albeit run by the university. Many students select Mayberry because of its proximity to the university, and because its inhabitants are all students. I chose it because it was where Breckin wanted to live, and I wanted to know who at least one of my roommates was.

Suites in Mayberry are like quads: each residents gets their own room, complete with locking door, and shares a bathroom with one of their roommates. With four residents to a suite, two bathrooms always seemed like a pretty good number.

Breckin and I were the first in our apartment to move in, so we were able to guarantee ourselves a shared bathroom. I can say this much about Breckin: for a "straight" guy, he sure loves his styling products. Our bathroom was littered with them, some for his fur, his tail, the stupid way he spiked his hair. This was one coyote that didn't mess around, and I soon found myself wading through his shit every morning just to get to the shower or toilet. But damn, at least he looked good.

Now, just because I talk affectionately about Breckin from time to time, don't go thinking that I have feelings for him or anything. We had one night, half-drunk, where we might have had something, but those feelings were gone in the morning. It was disappointing at first, but I've had other nights like that since then, and I've had lovers who make Breckin look inexperienced (which I suppose he was). From time to time I've found myself wondering what might have happened under different circumstances, but any doubts I had were completely wiped clean when our first roommate showed up.

Edward was the most beautiful, perfect guy I'd ever seen. He was six-and-a-half feet of pure wolf, and had fur near black as the night. He came into the living area of our apartment carrying four boxes, which were balanced ridiculously along his chiseled chest, a fact his tight muscle shirt allowed me to easily discern.

He didn't say anything, just looked my way and grunted, which prompted me to bounce from the sofa to my feet, gushing giddily, "Me an' Brecky already picked our rooms, yours is one of these, here let me show you! Can I take a box?"

He moved his shoulders some, shifting the top box into my arms. I almost toppled from how heavy it was, but managed to somehow find my balance and keep from totally embarrassing myself. I followed the hunk of a wolf to the room of his choosing and set the box on the floor, gripping my back rather gingerly as I stood back up.

The wolf looked at me and smirked. He spoke in a gruff, deep baritone that was strangely soothing, "Man, you're gonna throw your back out like that. Tell you what: next time I bring some stuff up, I'll give you the lightest one."

I could feel my cheeks burning at his suggestion, and I couldn't only bring myself to mumble something that incoherently resembled, "Well, I can carry something at least."

"I'm Edward, but Ed's fine," he announced, chuckling as he extended his paw for a shake, "I assume you must be Tom, then? I know Rocky, and he's not due for another day or so, so I'm just guessing here."

I accepted his grasp, nearly swooning at his firm, yet not too strong handshake.

'What is this?' I found myself thinking, 'I'm not this big a fag.'

We stood there awkwardly a moment, before I composed myself and realized that I was blocking the door. I quickly stepped aside, commenting softly, "I actually prefer 'Thomas' to 'Tom.'"

He nodded as I followed him out of the room, "No problem, man. 'Thomas' it is. I'm gonna go grab some more stuff, you're welcome to help if you want. If not, it's no big deal."

Of course I helped. I had to redeem myself at least a little in his eyes; there was no way I was going to be his faggy roommate, who wouldn't even help him move in. I followed him down the stairs to the parking lot, fighting the urge to check out his muscular back and legs the whole way.

He drove one of those old pickups, the kind you always expect to die just as you're getting on the freeway, the bed of which was loaded with boxes. I carried a box at a time to his three or four, but I was at least a little quicker, and liked to think I was actually contributing to the cause. As we were hauling the final load, Breckin came home, opening the door as he made his introductions.

"Oh, hey, you must be Ed! I talked to Rocky some about you, and he said you were pretty chill," he took the box from me and one from the wolf, "I'm Breckin. But I'm sure Thomas has already told you about me. Nice to meet you."

I waited patiently in the living room, padding slowly over to the fridge and opening myself a soda before retiring to the sofa and turning on the T.V. Breckin always had this ability to hone in when I was working my game (not that this can at all be counted as working my game) and take over, effectively ostracizing me from the conversation. I'm not sure if he'd do it on purpose, but it always seemed to happen. Not that I had any chance playing it like that, but I was still a little sore about it. I would much rather have had the opportunity to get to know Edward a little better one-on-one, but was stuck instead listening to the two of their voices speaking inaudibly about what I could only assume was me.

As I sat on the sofa, preparing myself for Edward to suddenly hate me, my mind wandered. The television droned, and my thoughts drifted from my new roommates to past relationships, to the fact that I hadn't done my laundry before moving here. In fact, I had thrown most of my clothes on my floor when I moved my stuff in, thinking I would get around to it. And hey, what better way to have an excuse to get out and check things out than doing laundry? I needed to find out where the utility room was anyways.

I stood, calling to the guys in Edward's room, "I'm going to do laundry. I'll be back in a bit!"

When I got no answer besides their muffled voices, I went to my room and gathered my favorite clothes. I was determined to find something here worth having, and if Edward wasn't going to be it, maybe I'd manage to make a friend or two washing my unmentionables. Piling my boxers and T-shirts into my basket, I headed out the front door, down the steps, and towards the fitness center and utility room.

I'll give Mayberry Commons one thing: their landscaping was amazing. The trees were perfectly arranged, providing shade to the winding path. The apartment blocks seemed perfectly spaced as well, which was good given their affluence for parties. The noise from one block would almost certainly not deserve the next thanks to the noise buffers that the trees offered, and each building was virtually hidden from the others visually. This park-like atmosphere would be something I would come to love during my time at the Commons.

I reached the utility room after a short, uninterrupted walk. I was somewhat disappointed, having not met anyone along the way, but I was sure at least one other resident would have forgotten to do his or her laundry prior to moving in. It's almost an irrefutable fact that college students are lazy when it comes to laundry; given the last opportunity to do laundry at home for free, a lot of students will pass it up. I certainly did.

The Commons' laundry facilities were actually quite small: for all two-hundred some odd units, there were thirteen pairs of washers and dryers, arranged in two small corridor-rooms, each washer facing a dryer with just enough room between them for two bodies to pass. The machines were at least fairly new; I was partly expecting an old-fashioned Laundromat setting, but was instead surprised by near-state-of-the-art washers and dryers (although the price was still ridiculously high, even by Laundromat standards).

The room was like a ghost town. I had been hoping to find at least a few people down there, but it was instead completely desolate. In fact, It wasn't hard to imagine that these machines might not have run since the previous spring, which made me skeptical at first as to their trustworthiness, but, after little deliberation, I loaded my skivvies into the machine, poured in my detergent, paid the fee, and pushed the 'On' button.

I waited.

'Someone will come, I don't want to have to go back up already and have nothing to do.'

I climbed on top of the washer and took a seat. The vibration was nice and steady. This was definitely a new washing machine. It wasn't long before the vibrations caused a crease in the front of my pants to develop. I laughed despite myself, catching myself thinking dirty thoughts in the laundry room.

"Well, there's a laugh I never thought I'd hear again," the voice cut through the sound of the machine running, sending my heart reeling into my throat.

I jumped down from the machine and spun towards the door, with closed with a soft 'click,' leaving me standing face to face with the voice.

Jerome Bellows had always been the type of guy to walk in on me just when I was having dirty thoughts. I guess it was because of this reason that we ended up dating for so long-six months in fact (I'd begun to think we might be together forever when I asked if I could move in with him and he broke it off with me).

The black Lab was probably one of the gruffest characters I'd ever known. Raised in the inner city, he'd always had the short stick, like I felt like I had, except (and this was a point he always made sure to make) more realistically. The fact that he was even in college was the result of a lot of luck and a little police brutality. When he was sixteen, he was mistaken for a wanted criminal and beaten by the cops, facts that lead to a hefty lawsuit. Now living the high-life, Jerome struggled to find semi-productive ways to spend his free time. I had been one of them.

He set his basket of clothes down on the nearest washer and took a step towards me, his voice soft, "I really never thought I'd run into you again, at least, here of all places."

I nodded, speechless. What he'd said was completely true; after our break-up, I thought he'd expected me to skip town or something. But of course I'd stuck around. Young love had never gotten me in high school (after all, how could it have?), and so I wasn't nearly as devastated as I think Jerome had expected. Remembering this, I found my words.

"Well, I guess it's a small world. What have you been up to?"

He seemed taken aback by my suddenly cool demeanor. I thought for sure that I'd thrown him off, but he came back, "You live here now?"

"Of course. I think between this and ending up living in some guy's attic, this was the better choice. Besides, Breckin knew some guys who knew some guys who needed roommates, and I guess we were the best bets," I shrugged, "I don't think a lot of people are here yet, though. I'm still missing one roommate, and I've been down here for forty-five minutes without seeing a soul. The lack of windows in this room is actually starting to make me pretty claustrophobic."

He chuckled, "That's the foxy I always knew, getting himself into tight places. Don't worry, I'll come to your rescue!"

"Fuck you," was my response to his mockery, followed by a gesture to my jeans, "I might have been easy then, but I think you messed your chances up of getting back in these."

"Oh, I could get back in there, you trust me," he replied cockily, adding, "If I ever really wanted to."

This was the dance we had always done. It somehow made the sex hotter, more passionate. If I'd been more on top of things, I might have thought ahead to where this was going, but at that time it was just good to have someone giving me the attention. I climbed back onto the washer, spreading my legs and leaning back and teasing, "I'm sorry, big boy, but there are no more freebies here. You'll have to work for your prize."

Jerome sauntered up to me, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants as he did. Reaching down, he grabbed my hips and pulled me crotch-and-ass-first into his groin, grinding his boxers, which were now tenting out of his jeans, into my rump. He spoke lustily as he worked his paws around my waist to unbutton and pull down my pants and underwear (a trick he'd learned early in our relationship to turn me on), leaving my bare ass freezing against the cool metal of the washer, "I think we both know that that's a load of shit."

As he pulled me into him, my pants down just far enough for him to reach my tail-hole with his member, I shuddered, suddenly glancing around the empty room. I reached down, grabbing his throbbing shaft in both paws, pulling it up between my legs so I could see it. I leaned in, whispering, "What if someone comes in?"

He brushed his hand along my head, paying special attention to my ear as he passed it. He smiled a soft, reassuring smile, "Don't worry. If anyone's going to come in, we'll figure it out then. Otherwise, I say just let it be. Guide me."

I swallowed hard, worried, but incredibly turned on. I spat on my paws, using my own saliva to lube his massive erection, before pushing the tip down to meet the base of my tail. When I was confident he was in the right spot, I brought my hands back up to his shoulders, gripping tightly, "Do it."

Without another word, he gripped my hips, pushing the tip of his dog-hood into my body. This feeling has always been indescribable for me, as if the thing inside of me had become a part of me. Of course, it also helped that Jerome knew how to work it; his pushed in just to my breaking point before pulling back, giving it to me hard and deep.

He continued this thrusting, slow and steady, for a few minutes. The washer beneath me seemed to vibrate along with our actions, and I could tell that the feel of the cold steel on his balls was about to send him over the edge. Not that I was complaining. Jerome wasn't the longest of gentlemen, but he was the thickest I'd ever had. Which each intruding thrust of his dick, I felt myself nearing closer and closer to covering his stomach with my sticky white seed.

I felt his hands suddenly grip my hips as he began fervently pumping his hips into mine. The base of his cock grew thicker and thicker, threatening the tie, and I knew what was coming. With a soft grunt, his member began to spasm, and I could feel the blast of his warm dog-juice inside of me.

He held me there, not moving, for what seemed like the longest time. I could feel him throbbing as he emptied himself inside of me, his paws working gently along my hips and buttocks. As he finished he pulled himself out, being as gentle as possible so as to not spill any one the floor or washer. He helped me off the machine, pulling my pants up and buttoning them for me.

I stood, my pants awkwardly tented, and smiled at him, "Always a good lay, huh?"

He chuckled, seemingly relieved. I knew I was letting him off the hook, and I think that he realized it as well. He looked around, leaning on another washer, "So, same time tomorrow?"

I opened the lid of the machine, ending the cycle of vibrations, and began to move my clothes from the washer to the dryer directly opposite it. As I finished, I looked up just in time to notice the lab slipping quietly from the room. He must have believed himself so slick to think he could get away with that, but a plan was already forming in my mind. I started the machine before taking my detergent and leaving the laundry room, noting the time on the dryer as I did.

I walked, uncomfortably (as one does after being fucked), back to my apartment. Perhaps the boys had finished their bonding, and maybe I'd have the chance to actually talk to someone. I knew for sure that the incident with Jerome would have to stay under wraps; if Breckin found out I'd been with him again, he'd just about disown me (he'd been the only one there when we'd broken up, and I can admit that that first night hadn't been an easy one).

The apartment was silent when I entered. I stood in the living room a moment, wondering where Breckin and Edward had gotten to, but, as I stood there, I thought that it didn't really matter. They weren't mine to keep, as much as I'd have liked them to be. I padded over to the fridge, pulling a soda out and popping it open.

The sound of the fizzy beverage opening caused one of the bedroom doors to fly open, and the largest fucking grizzly I'd ever seen stormed out, wearing nothing but a pair of white boxer-briefs, which offered a very generous view of what he was packing.

He reached me in what had to have been three steps, and, grasping my right paw in his, he exclaimed enthusiastically, "I'm Rocky! You must be Thomas!"

I was taken aback, shaking hands with this monstrosity. Looking up (this is the best I can do to describe him: imagine looking at yourself in the mirror, except that your reflection is three times your size and has coarse brown fur covering his entire body. That's Rocky), I grinned nervously, "Yeah, I'm Thomas. It's nice to meet you."

"Yeah, I just got in not ten minutes ago," He waltzed across the room to sit on the couch, "There was a note from Ed and Breckin that they'd gone to get dinner or lunch or something. I just ordered a pizza, if you want, I'll cut it seventy-thirty or something like that. I figure they'll be gone a while."

This guy never stopped talking, "Actually, if you don't mind, I think I'm gonna spend the night getting my room set up. I still have some to unpack, and I'll probably just end up going to bed early. If you don't mind, of course."

"Oh, all right," the dejected tone was evident in Rocky's voice, and his eyes seemed to have lost some of their luster. He faked a smile, "If you get hungry later, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks," I replied, retiring to my mess of a room. I still needed to get my laundry, anyways, and I did have unpacking left to do. Not a whole night's worth, but quite a bit. I spent the next hour arranging things on my desk and setting up photos of my friends and cousins on the bookshelf. I came across one of myself and Jerome snuggled on his bed watching a movie. No doubt it had been a Breckin candid, but I didn't remember it.

Throwing it nonchalantly on the floor of my closet, I left my room and headed towards the laundry room. It was still empty, although a few of the washers were running now. I pulled my warm clothes from the dryer and piled them into my basket before heading back. The path was softly lit in the waning daylight, and my mind wandered. Of all the people I'd seen today, only one really seemed interested in spending time with me, or getting to know me, and I'd blown him off. I decided then and there that I needed to hang out with him and get to know him.

I entered the apartment, which had become a dark, vacant-feeling dwelling once again. Making my way between the living room furniture, I deposited my clothes on my bed before plodding to Rocky's door and knocking gently.

The mammoth of a bear opened the door, and his eyes lit up. He stepped back, an invitation I gladly accepted, stepping into his room. It was immaculately clean, and still fairly empty. In one corner stood a stack of boxes marked 'clothes,' but other than that, he seemed done unpacking. His wall was lined with trophies, some large, some gold. In the center of them all sat a football in a glass case, with a scribbled signature in gold ink on its side. Amazed at his room, I found myself stepping forward and sitting on his bed.

Rocky took his desk chair, spinning it around to face the bed. He moved his pizza box from his desk to my side, "Help yourself."

I took a slice, asking before tearing into it, "What's with all the gold?"

The grizzly shrugged, "I just played a lot, I guess. Dad was into it, and it just followed that I be into it, you know?"

"Oh, that makes sense," I nodded, looking to his other wall, which was, for all intents and purposes, one giant television, "Wow. How come you get that, and we're stuck with that little twenty-incher in the living room?"

"I dunno, scholarships?"

I laughed.

Our conversation continued for quite a while, and it wasn't until we heard the front door open and close that we even looked at the clock. I stood suddenly, realizing how late it was.

"Leaving already," he asked, jokingly.

I smiled heartily, "Yeah, some of us like to sleep. Besides, I think two a.m. is a good bedtime for a young fox, don't you? Thanks for the pizza."

As I left, I turned, flashing the grizzly another genuine smile, "It was nice to meet you. You know, for the scariest looking guy I've ever met, you're actually pretty cool."

Edward and Breckin were nowhere to be seen, and I swear they must have booked it to their rooms. Maybe their guy-date had ended poorly. Or perhaps it'd ended incredibly well, and they'd brought home a few hussies that they were enjoying in their rooms. I didn't believe the latter for a second, especially given Breckin's near obvious closeted homosexuality, but I couldn't care less. I turned out to have at least one cool roommate, and that was enough for me.

Retiring to my room, I fell face-first into the pile of clothes on my bed. After only one day in the new place, I found myself wondering how it all would play out. I knew for sure that Rocky was the guy to go to if I needed anything, although I still had quite a bit of getting-to-know-him left to do, but that would come later. For now, I couldn't help but think that this year might just turn out all right.

I had a lot to learn.