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Dillon scoffs at the sight of rain pouring down in the busy street of Palomino Avenue. With plans falling through for dinner at Josephine's Bistro with friends and nearly an hour before work ends, Dillon texts Grant a message with articles of clothing drooped over his arm. He enters the small changing room, obscuring the view of the dilapidated street and town houses that appear shoved together in a tight knit group before the town had no time to mature and plan a sound building code. This store in which he presides isn't that much bigger than his own town house he lives in, but each foot of space is used, brimming with the scandalous garments of revealing intent and sexual expression. Dillon raises a couple pairs of undergarments that leave little to the imagination. He relinquishes the conservative choice and puts on the leather underwear. Before clicking 'send' he strips off all his cloths and takes a picture of himself in a leather harness and selected underwear in question. His big ass hanging out and his tan and orange stripped cat tail brushes along the edges of the wall as he turns. The phone sounds with a camera snapping a picture.

"And send..."

Dillon tips the officer's cap over an ear and shifts his weight from one paw to the next while waiting for a response from Grant. Dillon may be an overweight house cat, but he lives under the roof of four dogs with whom he has no problem pushing around when needed. Grant is one of four other brothers who all joined the police force in the town of Clairmont Point, a town with 1500 residents on the shores of eastern New England. It never developed into a big town, everyone knew everything about each other and the quaint feeling of a small town by the beach brought in tourists every summer, giving Dillon some new guys to hit on. While Grant is a German Shepard with a great demeanor and understanding for Dillon's self expression, he had others he calls family that nag him about his choices in who he brings home. The rest of his modern family comprises of a border collie named Garth, a Shiba Inu named Rick, and a Australian Sheep dog named Perry. The only thing they had in common had been the group home on the edge of town. It is the furthest away any of them had ever set foot from the town comprised of an archipelago. They now all live together under one roof in a town house, above a laughy Chinese restaurant called Dong's.

Dillon does a quick strip, taking off his underwear and tossed it over the door along with the harness and the kinky boots. He glances at his phone. His impatience flares with a grimace over the text to finish on the other end. A continuous three dots flash under Grant's emoji of a german shepard biting into sausage links. It couldn't be more gay, Dillon thought in putting on his jeans and buttoning down shirt he burst through the changing room door and exasperates a 'meow' for a plea of sanity.

Dillon texts, 'Cats of Croitan! Grant, are you writing a book?'

A message replies from Grant, 'Are you going out on a date?'

Dillon texts, 'No, trying to find out if any dogs are going to take me out tonight for my birthday.'

Dillon looks up and smiles at Chester, an older buck and owner of this kinky store that Dillon can't seem to escape. He has been browsing casually for an hour and can't make up his mind, like a lot of things in his life. Chester chuckles and pulls out a bag to place Dillon's anticipated purchase. Chester is nice as he doesn't judge Dillon while living in a town like this. Clairmont is full of total queens and shallow cunts that it's like passing a marble through a metal straw with desert level thirst, but Dillon is a paying customer. And besides, Chester highlights as a party dancer at some of the local gay bars and assists his boyfriend Dillon can't pick out of his memory as he is usually in drag. Dillon is a continuous contributor and frequenter of the store, even if it's for a short chat or for an ogling at Chester's muscular build.

"I'll have all of it. The boots. The harness. The police cap. The Underwear is fine. I'll just have to fill it in with a sock."

"Don't feel bad. You house cats have it where it counts," says the buck.

Chester rings up the purchase and gives Dillon a wink. His antlers scrape the top of the ceiling where marks from the many time he drags the tips again form a wave of grooves in the plaster.

Dillon says, "Thanks. At least my big ass has something to fit into here. Though, it's the underwear of a bull or a horse. I don't know how you hoof anthros have such big..."

"Flair for the dramatic?"

Dillon scans the middle aged buck and he's bearing a plaid shirt, but a pair of really tight short that accentuate his thick thighs covered in short fur, bulging with the conviction of his sex could not be down played by even his knee-highs and rhinestone horse shoes. He leans on the counter and bites down on the cash in Dillon's outstretched paws as Dillon waves it in front of his face like a fan.

"I could get use to it if I had the time," Dillon says with a glance down at his phone. "Speak of another devil. Dogs, they're always first outside the house, but you always wait for them to come back in."

The message finishes with only a few words and a thumbs-up emoji. 'It's ok. Get it.'

"You know, Dillon, you can always return it in two weeks if it doesn't work for you."

"No dice. I want this night to be the best time of my life. I'm wearing this outfit to The Blue Marsh...If my brothers get out of work in time before it closes."

"I never asked, what's it like having four dogs in the family?"

"Don't even. They're all straight."

"You checked?"

"Enough to know when they bring over the bitches and I can smell something other than this pussy,"

Dillon gestures with his thumbs, pointing to himself. Dillon smiles and then his eyes drop for a moment without noticing the buck's hooved fingers are on his hand still outstretched, but on the counter.

Dillon says, "Honestly? They're great. I'm the only cat in the house so there's no fighting. But as odd as it seems, it can get kind of lonely."

Chester inquires, "Dogs don't fight?"

"Only to show dominance. These are good boys. Though, my brother Perry can be such a

Queen when it comes to keeping the sink clear of fur. He can be a real bitch."

"Glad I only had two sisters. My father couldn't have any more kids after he went in for the operation. I'd never get that done. Not that it matters, I like myself some big bears guys when the festival in June comes around."

"All seems fair. I honestly would like some company, but these tourists are non-committal. And this town, while LGBT friendly, it is really a dried up husk for guys looking for the first and last night fling. They don't want to see you again, but they're right there, next door."

He points out to the house next to Dong's Chinese food take out and to the house with the broken window and a ferret standing out on the front porch smoking a cigarette.

Chester speaks, and for the first time he sounds like he's forming an opinion. "You fucked Bruce?"

"Yeah? So?"

"I fucked Bruce. Dude, everyone has. I'm surprised he hasn't caught anything. But then, he goes interspecies. There's no one left. Hence, he's skipping town each weekend to find his next dick to sit on.

"How did you two do it? He's half the size of one of your arms. I had to bottom for the guy. He wouldn't even give me the reach around. Cunt..."

Dillon's claws came out at the thought of the ferret who sneezed and rubbed his nose while looking over to the store. Dillon tried to imagine him bursting into flames, but in seeing Chester's expression he retracted his claws and takes the bag from the counter.

"That's where you went wrong, mate. You bottomed for a bottom. His fur is all soft and shit, but he doesn't have anything else going for him. I just grabbed him with both of these guns and rubbed him against my big dick until we both came. He makes a good cum rag."

"Ew...I'm starting to think this town doesn't have anything else going for it."

"Ouch. And this is my life-blood for the summer season. Well, I hope this outfit works out for you. I think you'll like tonight's event at the Blue Marsh. My boyfriend is on the spotlight for tonight."

"Tell that old drag queen he makes a better door than a window. He just steps in between me and the good guys that come rolling into town. He's got a fuckable boyfriend. Seriously, I figured you two would tie the knot by now. But, I understand your choices. Open relationships have their merits.

Chester says, "What about you?"

"I'm looking for the right guy. Anyway," says Dillon, "I'm going out on patrol until my brothers get out of work."

Dillon feels his rain coat flash the wind against his fur. He feels as though he is wearing his birthday suit under his trench coat. The cold chill blew in yesterday and the late spring weather needed to exchange for the warm nights and bring the boys into town for the summer season. A few leaves formed over head on an old oak tree. It always seemed to look down on Dillon whenever he jaywalked across the street to the town house. The lights of the bars and the rainbow flags flutter in the unpredictable gusts of wind that blow from either direction. Dillon gets and eye full of the ferret in his underwear, pacing back and forth on his porch. Dillon walks faster and up the stairs and into the place he calls home.

The inside of the kitchen of his duplex has the lingering smell of wet dog and beer. Five bachelors dwell in the 500 square foot apartment. Footballs and half chewed tennis balls litter the floor and a war zone between The Patriots and the Giants memorabilia run parallel on opposite walls, bridged by a few fist size holes from play-offs.

"I'm home," Dillon sounds off, stripping off all his clothes to flash whoever might come through the door to get an eyeful.

"But of course, nobody is home...Happy birthday to me," Dillon sings.

Dillon puts on his outfits and looks himself in the mirror. His fat ass sticking out reminds him of his poor eating habits and the tan and orange striped fur, slightly matted, are warnings of the aging process will creep up at some point. In a few years, he better take better care of himself if he's going to catch more tail like tonight. He combs his fur before grabbing police hats. Dillon compares which one fits best, the one he just bought or the real police issue one that belongs to Rick, who for a big dog wore such a small hat. Dillon, out of a job, wanted one grand night before relying on his brothers to take care of him until a job came around for the summer. Dreaming of the busier time, Dillon feels a little jealous that each of his brothers are in the police force with medical and pension are promising benefits. The only trade off is being a jerk to guys who just want to have fun and more than a few times Rick is a party pooper when he is with a guy and he comes between Dillon and a meal. Rick made him promise not to sell his body out anymore or he'd tell his brothers. Dillon loves males, but not at the expense of his brother's compromising view of him and winter didn't do great for loneliness. Summer time can wait. The last days of spring encouraged Dillon to live a little before age 30 creeps up on him.

Dillon slips on his kinky boots with the small chains dangling from the knee straps to the boot itself. He recalls the amazing sex filled nights he once worked as trick during his first summer of after high school. He even hooked up with one of his teachers from the school during Marti Gras, but never told anyone. He always knew he was gay. His four brothers all decided to move in with each other after it became aware that none of them were going to escape the town. Before making enough money to leave, one of them needed some money to bail out the other out of a car issue, a hospital bill when Dillon got a fang knocked out by a drunken tourist or flea treatment for poor Perry who got it from his girlfriend, followed by Rick and then Garth. Fortunately, Grant was smart enough to sleep in his car for two weeks before moving back in and everyone had a clear bill of health.

Dillon doesn't mind, he thought. They took care of each other. He has someone to go home to even if it is a bunch of straight-edge, stinky police dogs. He misses company and doesn't mind waiting for the others, but the night is young. He better take advantage of it, he thinks.

Creeping down the staircase in his scandalous outfit, Dillon drapes his trench coat over his shoulders. The Black Vesper is just opening and he wants to do a little bar hopping before the big party at the Blue Marsh, the highlight of tonight.

Strings of Christmas lights still hung half way through the year. Only at the beginning of summer are they taken down, but Emmerson Labrador is on a ladder taking them down already. That's when Dillon sees the fox. Dillon feels the chill of the red brick piercing his trench coat. His furs throttles at the sensation as he peals himself off to look around the corner.

Inside Earl Grey Goose, nearly pressed against the coffee shop window is a red fox with black tipped ears. He combs his white chin fur while looking down at his tablet as Dillon feels a flutter inside his chest.

"He's new."

Before Dillon can go inside, he gets a text from Garth.

'Sorry, Dil. Everything is fine. Garth & Rick going to be late. <3 bro.'

"Shit!"

In cussing, the fox's eyes meet his. It's odd seeing another pair of eyes with Heterochromia. Both their right eyes are blue and the left is green, same as Dillon. The fox's head tilts, probably thinking the same thing. Without any more hesitation on Dillon's part he walks through the door, with the bell ringing around his collar and the electric chime of the coffee house issuing an alert that a cat with a fat ass has entered the premises. Dillon plays casual and walks up to the counter.

Forgetting what he was about to order, Dillon blurts out, "Green tea, hot."

Dillon looks over to the fox who is still staring at Dillon. No words register from his mouth, but he sits at the table, but with his tablet now down. He's gorgeous with a black tip tail that trails up into his ginger fur, accompanied by the unfortunate coverage of khakis and a sea foam green polo shirt. His shoulder bag is briefly seen as he sets it over his shoulder. Is he about to leave?

Dillon pays for the tea and squeezes out helping of honey from the bottle shaped like a bear. Dillon feels the fox's eyes and decides to approach him.

"Hey," says the fox. Before Dillon can say anything, the fox speaks. "Haven't seen you around before. You're absolutely glowing."

"Am I now?"

"Sure. Plenty of house cats around here, but none with a frantic swishing tail behind them."

It occurs to Dillon that the fox is right. His tail is up, searching and prodding the air for something. He doesn't know what, but in looking at the fox he sees the fox smirking.

"Maybe you have that affect on house cats?"

"Not likely. As I said, there are plenty of house cats around here, but..."

"I'm Dillon," he says and holds out a paw.

"Is that so? Hi, Dillon," says the fox as he grips the extended paw in his. "I'm Baker."

"Baker? Is that a last name?"

"Baker Breaker."

"Oh wow. That IS unfortunate."

"Oh? And here I was, about to invite you to have a seat at my table." "There are a lot of tables here. What makes yours so special?"

The fox grins, "Company. All the other tables are sold out, I'm afraid."

Dillon smiles and takes a sip of the tea. It has too much honey. Scanning the fox up and down he realizes the fox isn't wearing shoes. It's fine, but the wet pavement from the rain mats up the fur. It doesn't occur to Dillon that his shoes are by the heater, drying out. The fox sits with his thumbs twiddling. His innocent expression is inviting and so is his scent of whatever shampoo lingering around his body.

"How much is it going to cost me, then?"

"For a house cat? It's say a conversation."

"A fair exchange..."

The fox motions his paw to the empty seat and Dillon sits across the Baker. His trench coat slips, revealing a little more fur than he intends. A reflection of Dillon's bell on the end of his collar shines in Baker's eyes.

"So, how have things been on your visit here?"

"Alright, I guess. It's all very calm, not like it is in the summer."

"Sorry, us locals have nothing we can do over the weather or the livelihood of the town.'

Baker says, "No, don't get my wrong. I like the calm."

"What about the storm coming," asks Dillon.

"Storm,"says Baker. "I'll be heading out before the storm comes."

Dillon's tail flattens. Storm Deserey, he recalls, is passing over tonight mid-land and in the morning it will touch the archipelago and a few other islands.

"Hey, it doesn't mean you can't have a little party before you leave."

"You mean that party over at Blue Marsh?"

Dillon nods.

"I was going to head over there, but I came over-dressed."

It doesn't occur to Dillon what he mean until he realizes he folded his legs when he sat down and his naked fur revealed more than he wanted to. He tries to play it off and bounces his calf up and down with the chain attached to his boots glinting on the floor like a disco ball of a prom dance.

"I have a few outfits if you feel like slipping out of your day clothes."

"That would be nice," says Baker. "I have one for the occasion, but I didn't pack it for the weekend.

"So, Baker...What are you? A high school teacher?"

"I'm a professor, but I'm here in town to write a book."

"A writer, you say?" Dillon leans in saying, "Do tell me more."

"Yeah, been writing this book since last summer. I've been using this place for something to draw from."

"Oh dear, no...A tourist."

"Very funny, but yes, I was a tourist last year. I keep coming back. I love it here. "I hate it. Been living here all my life, even when I was in the group home."

"Doesn't seem so bad."

Dillon sips his tea until there is only a pool of honey at the bottom of the cup. It occurs to him that Baker's cup is empty. No steam flows up from the opening of the spill guard.

"It seems a shame that you're on your way out of here. Summer time is the only good time to be around here when everyone comes in for the pride festival, beer tasting and oysters. Get past that and it's a town full of old drag queens and tricks trying to work regular jobs until the tide comes in."

"Are you a trick?"

"Use to be. I matured with age."

"You're what? 19?

"I'm turning 22. Tonight. It's my birthday. All my brothers are working down at the station and none of them want to wish me a happy birthday over a text. Woke up late. I don't have anything special planned. How about you?"

"How about a walk? Just two guys looking for a good time while the night is young."

Dillon can't help but flash a smile across his face. A light rumble creeps up and he purs with intent.

"You're sweet, but how are you sure I'm not a predator luring you in to be stuck in this town forever?"

"Doesn't sound so bad. I like the town for its company, not for the loud party you guys have during the summer."

"Well then, Come on. No one is waiting up for us. We'll make our own plans."

Baker takes Dillon by the paw and gives the slightest of tugs with his not gesturing over to the door. His torso might as well be a sail of a ship with the wind making it flutter in the slight breeze passing through the swinging door. It doesn't register to Dillon that he existed the coffee establishment until Baker's eyes break from his gaze and he is in mid-step past the cross walk. Like jolt to the system, the tips of their paws break apart.

"What was that," says Dillon.

"What was what?"

Dillon's exchange of looks to Baker shift from uncertainty to an obscure curiosity mixed with a blank stare.

"It feels later than it really is. We actually have an hour to kill before heading to the bar. Maybe we should do some hopping before the drag show?"

Baker isn't next to him anymore. Almost like he disappears from the view over his shoulder, Dillon looks back and sees the fox tail twitching with Baker bending over the back of a car. The view makes Dillon smirk with slithering thoughts he would never tell a stranger. While Dillon had exchanged more looks that works with Baker the fox he likes him. Something clicks and Dillon's eyes adjust with Baker turning back to him and smiles as he tosses his bag into the trunk of his car.

"You have a car...a nice car."

Baker's car is a red sports car. Dillon isn't a car fanatic, but from what he can tell it is a T-top convertible hatchback. The car isn't new, but it's nice to be around someone financially stable. It begs the question of what Baker's background is. That isn't a normal question that follows a series a looks between the two of them, but Baker is moving in on a house cat. What's his deal?

Baker closes the trunk and shrugs. He grins, almost like he's flustered, but he slips this cool leather bomber's jacket over his shoulders and buckles the bottom.

"Oh no," says Dillon, "You're not a player, are you?"

'Oh hell no!" Baker clears his throat and adjusts his polo shirt collar. It's not popped up and Dillon is relieved. Bakers skips over the curb and pretends he didn't nearly trip. He brushes his paw over the ride side of Dillan's face and combs his claws through his whiskers. "No, honestly this is an heirloom."

"The car or the jacket?"

Baker looks back at his ride and shakes his head saying, 'No, the jacket was my grandfather's from the war. The car...The car is my mom's car."

Dillon giggles. For the first time this week and maybe this month he isn't laughing over an embarrassing picture he takes of one of his brothers shitfaced drunk or cheep joke of putting a cone over Garth's head while he's half asleep. Baker is making him laugh.

"Hey, you know," says Dillon, "The park is open the public until 9pm. Maybe a quick walk first before heading over to the Blue Marsh would do us some good?"

Baker puts his paw on Dillon's trench coat and wraps him in it before tying the waist belt.

"Maybe. I also want to grab a bagel over at that deli on the way. I hardly ate the continental breakfast and a protein bar is..."

"Sounds like a plan," says Dillon, nudging Baker to his side. "So, your mom knows you're out late?"

Baker laughs, "Heh, yeah. I don't live with her though. My three brothers aren't finished with college, but I got lucky teaching part-time."

Dillon says, "You have three brothers?"

"Yup," Baker says.

"I have four brothers. All of them dogs.."

"Damn. What's that like?"

Dillon pauses and looks over to Baker who waits for an answer. He is genuinely curious. Dillon doesn't make him wait any longer and sighs before saying, "They're all police officers. I don't know why they all decided on the same career choice. It's not the most fulfilling of jobs, but it brings home their paychecks. I keep skipping from lifeguard to tech support to who know's what in the newspaper. I'm 22 and I still don't know what I want to do."

"I'm 25. I still don't know what I want to do. I only started writing this weekend. Yeah, the teaching thing is temporary. I got my English degree last year and I needed some time away from my regular life. This weekend is supposed to be enlightening."

Dillon and Baker scoff at the same time. Neither knew what they wanted as individuals, but as the conversation drew closer to the bakery Dillon changed perspective.

"Hey, what if you just write. You have a job. You can come here on the weekends if it isn't too far and who know what?"

Baker opens the door for Dillon and steps through the foyer of the bakery. No one is at the front desk and Dillon flicks his collar with the bell on it. They order a couple bagels and cream cheese. They wait for a moment before they are assembled and Dillon pays for both.

"Thanks. So, what do you do now?"

Dillon rubs the back of his neck and thinks for a second before saying, "I am currently not working. After a car accident I kind of fell off the wagon. My brothers supported me and they refused to let me put myself out there for cash. I got a settlement on the injuries, but it won't last. I'm saving until I have a stable job. Jobs around here aren't exactly reaching out other than handyman and mechanical services, which I never got into. That's where my brothers started off."

"That sucks. Sorry to hear about that."

Dillon says, "It's ok. I'm not too bent out of shape. Well, I got fat in the back."

"No, you look good with your weight. Honest. So the park up here is still open? Are you sure?"

Dillon lied. Usually the park closed when night falls, but he knows the guys who patrol park. Dillon slips his hand into the bag and grabs his bagel and hands Baker his. Spreading cream cheese on the warm ring of moist dough he licks his claws and hands Baker his pocket knife.

"It's clean. I only use it for cutting fruit and smacking counter tops with."

"Thanks."

"Anyway, here's hoping this summer will pick up with jobs and tourist market booms more than it has these past few years."

"Ever thought of moving?"

"Every day," Dillon says with a sigh, "I always wanted to leave, but my brothers and I always seem to take care of each other. Now that they are all in stable, hard working jobs it's just me that feels like I'm dragging behind."

'You know," says Baker. "I haven't been as fortunate. You see the car and my cool jacket, but really I live in a one bedroom apartment in a run-down complex. The manager running the place might as well be a slum lord. I can't even afford milk."

After a long discussion of food groups all containing meat and small talk takes a back seat, Dillon and Baker take a seat on the park bench. Talking with someone that didn't involve flea collars and the receptionist with big tits is a break from Dillon's usually group of words he had assimilated from the dogs in the house. Baker still smiles even when Dillon feels like he is complaining about his life, but he giggles about downsides of living with dogs and the highlights of being a cat who eats and sleeps. They go silent while looking at each other in the eyes. Both of them scan each other for a what the catch is until Baker make the first move and kisses Dillon on the side of the mouth. Dillon motions his head down, but as soon as he looks up again he is kissing Baker. They wrap their arms around each other as they begin to make out when a light flashes in their eyes.

"What are you two kids doing?"

"Oh shit. It's Garth and Rick..." "Who," asks Baker.

"My-"

"Brother!" Rick has a big, dumb, open mouth smile on his face and his tail is wagging. "Hey, Garth, check this out. Dillon has a girlfriend."

"He's not my girlfriend, Rick. He's my..uh."

"Dude, Dillon. You better not be on a job. Remember a year ago...blowing that moose behind the library?"

"It wasn't a moose, Garth!" Dillon makes a quick look at Baker. "It was a deer and his name was Ash."

"A deer any better than a moose? Anyway, I thought you texted that you weren't on a date tonight. Who is this guy? Do we need to have a talk with him? Put him in cuffs for you?"

Dillon's fuzz of his nose couldn't cover how red his face was. He worried that Baker would feel threatened, but he begins to laugh.

"So, heh, these are your brothers?"

"Holy smokes. Rick, are you seeing this? Yo, this guy is a fox. Look at the tail on him."

Rick is grinning. His breath is heavy and the moisture from his breath puffs out in the cool air. Garth is chuckling as he pulls out his phone and takes a quick picture before Dillon can step off the bench. Dillon tries to grab the phone, but Garth is too quick. Rick takes another picture and starts texting.

Rick shakes hands with Baker and pats Dillon the shoulder. He says, "Wait until Grand and Perry hear about this. Oh boy, they are going to flip. Hey Dillon, you got a bright red spot on your nose. You drunk or you seriously embarrassed?"

Before Dillon can say anything Garth pushes the send button on his phone and say, "Well, they're off shift getting ready. Boy, am I so glad I had to work an extra couple hours until 10 tonight. Finally! Finally, I knew I'd catch you one day, cat. One day and it's today. I knew it. Thank you, tribal sky gods. Thank you."

"Alright," says Dillon. "That's enough. You knucklehead leave him alone. He's just visiting."

Rick inquires, "Visiting who?"

"He's just visiting."

"Just visiting," Rick proclaims, as if he just found the cure for wet dog smell.

"Just visiting," Garth nods in agreement, concurring with Rick.

Rick flashes his light at Dillon and Baker and motions to the direction of the Blue Marsh bar and adds, "Well, Just Visiting, it's a pleasure. We got an hour left before our shift ends. We'll be talking with you soon as brothers to this dumb cat. If you need any deep secrets that you need to know before dating this guy let us know. We have all the dirt."

"All the dirt," Garth repeats.

Dillon is furious. His eyes might as well be laser beam cutting down Garth and Rick as they climb back into their cars, waving and howling out of their rolled down windows. He turns back to Baker and he's smiling. Suddenly, Dillon doesn't feel angry anymore. Baker's smile makes everything ok.

"You're so cute when you're mad."

"I can't believe those two."

"I like them!"

"Yeah, well...We should get going."

Dillon grabs the garbage and leftover cream cheese and tosses it in the garbage. He takes Baker's paw in his and they start walking to the direction of the party. It doesn't occur to Dillon that he does this, but it felt right with the public display of affection.

"Do you mind?"

"Mind what? Your brothers? No, they're fine. Funny guys."

"No, I mean," Dillon looks down at their paws overlapping each other and continues, "This. We're kind of moving..."

"At the right pace. I don't know what this is, but I like it. I like you."

Dillon smiles in agreement. The walk back is shorter as they cut across the grass and when they reach the sidewalk of the street their paws release. Dillon does it first, but he realizes Baker's hand lingered for a moment. So, Dillon motions his tail over and it lightly wraps around Baker's tail. Baker grins, like he just scored a touchdown. He is blushing. Somehow Dillon can tell. His nose is higher in the air, like he's sniffing for food, but he's hiding something as the corners of the mouth curl up.

Baker says, "Where have you been these last few years?"

Dillon shrugs, "In this sinkhole of a town."

They both go quiet for a moment. Despite the venom in Dillon's last comment they are enjoying walking down the street with one another. A few people point and whisper, but Dillon doesn't care. The fox next to him is still grinning away with no care in the world. Dillon and Baker reach the Blue Marsh. The establishment is nearly packed, but the two bouncers know Dillon and usher them both inside. At the bar, Dillon is hesitant. The coat check give him a ticket and he slowly undressed his trench coat and reveals leather underwear, harness and kinky boots. He puts on his officer's hat and winks at the fox.

Baker blushes and this time Dillon gets a full eye view of the red around the think veil of fur around his muzzle. A few onlookers whistle as Dillon takes Baker's hand and sit at the bar. Dillon orders a margarita without salt and Baker orders his with. They clap as the drag queens step out onto the stage and dance to "Like a Fever". Baker sees Dillon rubbing his stomach and he motions to the bar maid. She nods and Dillon's ears perk up. Baker pats his paw which is on the counter and before the first act ends the server comes around with oysters and stuffed mushrooms.

"You must be reading my mind," says Dillon.

"Actually, I can hear your stomach growl even with the music going. Those bagels are filling, but I think we needed this before the alcohol gets up carried away."

Dillon says, "Nothing wrong with you carrying me away."

Dillon looks down at the oysters and picks one of them up. He doesn't know what to expect of this night. Yes, it's his birthday, but this is the tourist's menu choice for when he knows he's going to get something that night. Dillon doesn't hesitate and sucks down the meat. The clean feeling of smooth, juicy oyster slides past his tongue and easily passes down his throat. It's delicious.

"Have more," says Baker as he sucks down and oyster and wipes his bottom jaw with the back of his paw. His grin makes Dillon do so.

The next show begins with a few male strippers. One is a wolf and the other two are linxes. Their bodies rocks in the motion to the music, but Dillon can't help but look back at Baker who props his head on his arm and the buzz of his drink has taken affect. Dillon feels it as well, but he can't help but feel a bit of tightening around his leather underwear, even with the padding of a sock he can feel it reaching to be released. Two hot linxes grope the wolf as he growls at them, spanking their backsides and letting out a howl before the lights go off. By the time the lights come on their cocks and balls are out and they toss their jockstraps into the crowds. Dillon claps and smiles back at Baker who is grinning with his tongue slightly out. It's then that they decide to mingle. Dillon introduces Baker to a few groups of friends and the drag queens. He can see Baker looking at one of the naked linxes and he introduces him to Stefan who is more than happy to shake his hand and chat with him. It's then that Dillon feels the rough paws of an Australian Sheep dog and a German Sheppard on his shoulders. Grant and Perry are out of uniform, but it doesn't stop them from patting him down and tugging on his harness. The two brother point over to Baker and they smirk at Dillon who shakes one paw. They both grin and hand Dillon a tall glass of beer. Baker comes over and introduces himself while not being able to make out what each are saying. The music is too loud and for once Dillon is happy that it is.

It's only a short time until Garth and Rick arrive. They're still in uniform and tug on Dillon with their arms around his neck and give him sloppy licks on the sides of his face. They point to a chair in the middle of the room and without warning Dillon is lifted over their heads and shoved in the chair with cuff placed on each hand, tightened as he is secured to the chair. Dillon loses sight of Baker as his four brothers begin to sing the Happy Birthday Song and the rest of the crowd sing in unison.

Rick waves his arms to settle down the crowd. They all do so as he is still in uniform. There is some laughter and some bellowing, but in the corner of the room is Baker talking to Garth, Perry and Grant. They're surrounding him and causes Dillon to worry what his meat-head brothers are doing to him as they escort him out of the bar.

Rick speaks up as he slaps a paw down on Dillon's shoulder, "This is my brother, Dillon. Yes, he's a fat house cat with a propensity to bang most of you in under the span of the first six months of him coming out..."

The group of people laugh and Rick raises his hand so he can speak again, "Dillon here, has been a good brother, but a very, very bad boy..."

Everyone groan and 'woo' as Chester, the buck comes up on stage wearing nothing but a tightly wrapped fundushi around his nether region, not leaving any imagination. He has a paddle in his hand and is approaching Dillon who is anxious to know what comes next while glancing back at the door to see any sign of his brothers and his fox.

"I wish we can punish him for every dirty deed he has done in this town, but that will take all night."

Everyone laughs.

"Instead," says Rick, "We're going to beat every year out of him."

"Wait!" A voice calls out from the front door. Dillon can't see, but Grant, Perry and Garth are standing in front of him with Rick by Dillon's side. They are slow to move out of the way and reveal Baker in his leather jacket, wearing nothing but a pair of fashionable underwear. Dillon's tail thrashes in the air and his eyes go wide. "No one touch that cat. He's mine tonight!"

The crowd goes nuts. The fox approaches with Rick bowing and gesturing to Dillon that he is all for the taking. Baker catches Rick's police hat and places it over one ear as he bears his teeth and walks over to Dillon. He positions his paws over his shoulder and in unison of the music he gives Dillon a lap dance. Dillon is frozen. He looks up at the fox who is bearing all. His chest is puffed out and there is a grid pattern along his stomach fur that reveals he works out. The fox rocks his hips and sits down on the cat's laps and he feels the fox's balls pressing against the cat's swelling member.

"Jackpot," says Baker and he winks.

Rocking his hips side to side in a circular motion, Baker the fox slowly stand and positions himself over Dillan and buries the cat's face into his stomach. Dillon is in a haze. He looks up grinning with one eye drooping like he got hit by a foul ball into left field. His head rocks side to side as though he's about to pass out and can't stop himself from blushing. Baker stands and circles Dillon before reaching around and grabbing his ass. He gives it a smack and motions for his cuffs to be taken off. Dillon is lured off stage as everyone howls and clap.

"Where did this come from?" Dillon asks.

Baker laughs, "I asked your brothers if I could change in the cop car. They didn't mind."

"Was this planned?"

"No, spur of the moment on my part. Though, I have to say, I've been planning for you to come back to my place."

Dillon freezes and stares into Baker's eyes, unflinching. The fox realizes what he said and pulls Dillon out into the front the bar while still in their underwear and out of the way of prying ears.

"You're not a one night stand. I know this is moving fast, but for some reason I really want to be with you. I mean, yeah. You're hot. Everything all rolled into one and you make me very happy just being around..."

"Sure," says Dillon. "Let's go back to your place."

Baker the fox thrusts his fists into the air and has a open mouth grins and before he does anything else he plans a kiss on Dillon's mouth. The kiss last for five second, but it feels longer with Dillon breaking away with a teeter-totter. In the corner of both their eyes they see Grant, Perry, Garth and Rick staring out at them with their noses pressed against the window. Their looks shift from their cat brother to the fox who is about to steal him away for the night.

"Should we go in and grab our stuff? My pants are I the cop car," says Baker.

"No. Just run," says Dillon.

Baker repeats, "Let's run."

With that, Dillon and Baker run off down the street before any of the dogs watching can reach the door. Baker has Dillon by the paw and they run down the middle of the town like streakers. They approach a house along the shore just as they are out of breath and enter through the back.

The fox's paws move everywhere over the hat's body. His claws rake along the stripes of Dillon's fur and rest on his back. He sniffs at Dillon's neck and swallows loudly like he had just taken his first drink of water in miles. Dillon purrs as he presses his paws over Baker's chest fur and the musk of fox is luring. He breathes heavy as he takes a few steps forward, following Baker in the dark. The fox back into a room where a king size bed looks very inviting. Their paws meet and their bodies attract like magnets with a kiss that lingers. Dillon's feet hover over to the bed and Baker hoists him with both paws under his arms. The fox's green and blue eyes don't leave his company's wide stare with the feeling of leather being stretched and then flicked off his boots.

"No escape," says the fox.

"Nowhere to run to anymore," says Dillon.

The fox's hot breath wanders from the cat's neck, chest and then down to his groin with such heat it it makes his toes pulse. The slick feeling and fur skin push back as Dillon shutters. He becomes more powerless with every lick. Every bobbing motion of Baker's ears with his muzzle undulating onto Dillon's sex. He gasps and his breaths become rapid. The warm feeling comes over him. Tension slips away and the fox raises his head with his tongue licking his jowls. He climbs on top of Dillon and kick the cat's legs up straight, gripping them like handlebars as he rides the cat.

The sounds of desperation, become more fluent and the rocking motion of the fox's hips become stronger. Bakers grips tightly onto the Dillon until there isn't an inch of freedom between them as Baker lets out a whimper, each one softer than the next until his body becomes lax over the top of Dillon's glowing form.

The time they are awake neither Dillon nor Baker make any motion that they want to break apart. Short lucid dreams of the other petting one's fur during the night come and go. And before the break of dawn, as if still connected they look at each other. They don't say anything, melted in the arms of each other. A glint of sunlight pierces the opposing wall from a window to the east. Dillon is more awaken by this revelation and he wraps his legs and arms around the fox tight, kissing his neck.

"I don't want this to end. Damn."

The fox pets his cat and reaches behind Dillon's neck before pressing his head into his chest. Collapsing side by side, they pet each other's faces and around their ears.

"Let's have a silly game of 'what if'. What if."

"What if you come back?"

"What if you don't get dressed?"

"What if you walk me back to my car and what if you climb inside and come with me?"

"What if I find a job, maybe on campus. I cook."

"What if I tell you we can go now and come back some other time for your stuff?

"What if..."

Dillon stands up and looks out the window to view the sunrise, but three police cars are parked in front of the beach house. He shakes his head. He realizes there's no place to run. They would have the house surrounded. The back door would be covered. Each of the windows must be monitored as well. Dillon feels Baker's warmth on his back with paws wrapping around his sides and the worry subsides.

Baker says, "I'll give them this. They're consistent. Fugitive from the law, are we now?"

Dillon says, "It would seem so. At least your brothers aren't like this."

"No," says Baker, "They're worse."

"You should take a shower. I'll get the vacuum out and chase them away."

Baker giggles, nibbles on Dillon's ear before heading into the bathroom. Dillon can smell the fox all over him. Even if he showers and answers the door, the dogs will know. He might as well go down in style. Dillon squeezes on Baker's underwear with it stretched tight over his cat bottom. He slinks to the front door and opens it wide for the world to see.

"TA DA!"

All five dogs are folding arms and shaking their heads. Dillon motions his paw for them to come inside, but Grant raises his paw that they aren't going anywhere. Garth is rolling his eyes and hands Dillon a book bag with some loose articles of clothing popping out the half zipped side.

"You'll need these. We had reports of a fox and a house cat running through town last night. We traced Baker Breaker's car and tracked him down to this rental. You have any memory of this?"

Dillon says, "I cannot say as my answer may incriminate me. Can I have a lawyer?"

Garth pushes the bag forward and Dillon grips it.

Perry says, "You wreak."

"Of fox," Rick adds.

"Yup!" Dillon says with no shame.

"When are you coming home?"

"Two weeks, tops." Baker says, "We're going back to the main land, check out some jobs around my hometown and maybe I was thinking he can come back with something to show for it."

Dillon turns and sees Baker looking down at him. His fur is partially dry and he's has a pair khakis on. He fixes Dillon's bent ear and puts his paws on his shoulders.

Garth asks, "Where is home?"

"Springfield. Not much more than a couple hours drive. Sorry you guys can't come," says Baker, all smug.

"Don't make us have to,"says Rick. "We'll bug your car if you make any detours. Okay?"

With that, Rick leaves to his car and motions Garth to join. Garth simply waves and follows him.

Perry is still shaking his head. He ruffles the fur on top of Dillon's and says nothing. He turns and leaves with Grant being the last to stare down the fox.

Grant scratches his neck while staring along the porch for anything peculiar and says, "You guys are moving pretty fast. Good thing I did a background check on this fox last night while you were getting a lap dance. No record. An upstanding citizen. That's a first for you, Dillon."

"That's not a first," says Dillon. "It make perfect sense anyway."

"Yeah, I guess he does," says Grant. He almost looks disappointed, but then smiles at them both.

Baker scratches his cat's chest as they all drive away. Grant lingers like some over protective dog looking after his pups. At the end of it, he's smiles before turning and walking to his own car and he's gone in an instant. Dillon sighs as the last car disappear from sight. He looks back at Baker who takes his bag over his shoulder and walks back into the bedroom.

"Coming?"

"Yeah," says Dillon as he closes the door.

Baker and Dillon pack up their things. Dillon counts and find he has three sets of clothes and a plenty of socks. How do dogs know about these sorts of things, thought Dillon. He helps Baker with his small suitcase and check over the room one last time. Baker slips the key under the welcome mat and puts his arm around Dillon while walking into town. Baker's car has some perspiration on the windshield and it is wiped away as soon as he turns the key. Dillon adjust his seat and before he can reach out he feels Baker's paw on his.

"We are moving a bit fast, aren't we," says Dillon.

"Well," says Baker with his eyes meeting Dillon's, "Life better be ready for us, then."

Baker pulls out of the parking spot and begins to drive down the main street to the first bridge. He keeps his right hand on Dillon with reassurance. Five minutes later they reach the second bridge and they pass the Black Vesper Bar & Grill. Dillon sees Chester with his boyfriend. For once he isn't in drag and the horse is actually more built than his buck next to him. They pass Dong's and his home, the kinky store and the coffee shop. Another 10 minutes go by and it's like his life is flashing before his eyes as they pass the park and the Blue Marsh. And before he knows it, Dillon is staring ahead to the last bridge before the group home he first met his four dogs. There is a police car parked in the parking lot and it's Grant who waves from the driver's seat. Before Dillon realizes, he has traveled furthest from Clairmont he had ever done his whole life and it's thanks to this fox.

The last landmark hits Dillon like a ton of bricks. They are approaching at a 30mph speed limit and it gives Dillon enough time to read the sign. 'So Long Clairmont, Goodbye'.

"This is it, huh?"

Bakers looks back and says, "Yeah."