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"Fuckity, fuck shit... fuck ass, dick, cunt, whores!" I exclaimed as I tipsily fumbled with my bowtie in the back of mom's van. Evidently Dad fortified his booze with liquid Asperger's... or maybe I was just really frustrated and not totally sobered up, it was a tossup really. Either way, I should have gotten a clip-on, because doing a bowtie lastminute (while buzzed off vodka in the backseat of a car) was not an achievement I needed unlocked.

I caught of quick glimpse of Mom smirking in the rearview mirror as she drove. "You know Rob, if you keep on swearing that much I might start picking up the habit myself," she said in a very scheming mom voice. When we hit a red light, she reached over and put a paw on Dad's shoulder, "Hey there handsome, why don't you come on over and fuck me in the ass sometime?"

"I hope you don't mind walking funny for a week!" my Dad quipped back with all the smoothness of sandpaper.

I was immediately repentant.

"...I'm sorry, I'll watch my mouth," I muttered after a moment of flabbergast, eyes gravitating towards anywhere but the front of the car. Anne looked up at our infidel of a mom with a disgusted face, shook her head solemnly and then went back to whatever teenage goth sisters do on their phones.

I took that exchange as a sign of some greater power that 'fuck tying this bowtie, Imma James Bondage 007 this shit'.

Aaaaaand that was the highlight of my car ride to comehoming... HOMECOMING, FUCK!

"Bye kids, don't do anything I wouldn't!" Mom chirped from beyond the rolled down car window. Anne and I had just alighted from the car at the half circle drive at the front of the school.

"That doesn't really limit my actions, but thanks!" I said as I floppy-waved my paw as my parents drove off, starting a conversation that I undoubtedly didn't need to hear. As the minivan buzzed off out of sight, I sighed and rearranged the askew lapels of my rented tuxedo suit. On the night I finally mustered the resolve to come out of the closet, I was still stuck with a girl as my 'date' for an LGBT homecoming dance. Old Rob would have taken any smidgen of inconvenience toward coming out that it just wasn't his time, but not today Satan, not today. The moment my time is up I'mma make myself gayer than a bleached asshole.

"The air is thick with opulence..." Ann commented enigmatically as she fluffed her black and white plaid dress. I turned around to appraise the scene, and let me tell you: Grovedale High was popping. I could hear muted screams of joy mingle with the beats a high energy pop song I couldn't quite identify. Light shot out from every window of the school's East wing, almost a painful contrast from the dusk of night. 7 ROYGBIV search lights aligned at school beamed into the dark sky, affecting our humble school into some sort of futuristic suburban club. There was a banner that proclaimed 'Welcome Chargers! Be your true and genuine self. Homecoming Out 2018 ± 5'.

Ohhh that's what year it is. 2018 plus or minus five. That makes sense.

"Uh, yeah," I agreed absentmindedly, eyes now on the lookout for one: Francesca Buchannan, I.E my slaver for 40-ish minutes. It wasn't long before my ears picked up a punchily inflected 'There you are!' from behind. I turned around with a sense of dread; a limousine had pulled up into the half circle drive, the noise covered up by the music in the school. Out from like long sleek luxury vehicle came everyone's favorite authoritarian student council president: Regina GeorgeFrancesca Buchannan.

As very very homosexual as I was, I could at least tell that Husky-girl looked smoking tonight. Despite her last dress being ruined from the prior zombie invasion, she evidently still had a spare dress: a flowing sequined white gown that perfectly clung to the curves of her body, matched to a tee to her sparkling white heels. The pink corsage and pink fuax fur stole wrap that dangled around her shoulders satisfied her daily pink quota. Her brown hair hung down in a meticulously wavy perm that oozed class. Maybe she pushed up her bra or something too because her boobs looked like they actually existed today.

"Hey there, Francesca. Good timing, I just got here," I greeted weakly as she strutted over to me, her judgmental gaze consuming the entirety of my being.

Evidently: admonishment is a girl's best friend! "Well that makes you two minutes late then," she said in a voice that insisted I ought to travel back in time and get here two minutes earlier.

My brain played dial up modem noises as I blinked, attempting to logic. "But you arrived after me?!" I responded confusedly, paws upturned.

The Husky scoffed to a brief eye roll, "Semantics. I'm at least dressed properly. Your bowtie isn't even-" Francesca didn't finish the sentence. The Husky's eyelids peeled wide open as she became aware of the dark entity that had stolen itself right up beside her.

Anne's expression was set a frequency that wasn't human furry, staring into the depth of the Husky's soul, "Lucifer smiles upon you, Francesca Buchannan," she stated ominously, then swaying away into the school like an animatronic ghost from an 80's movie ready to haunt the shit out of some poor teenagers.

"Uhuhuhu," Francesca shivered after Anne was safely out of reach. "She's even creepier in person."

I was going to retort "try living with her", but then I remembered my revelation about being nice to her from two chapters ago. So I just kept my dick-loving mouth closed for once.

"Anyway..." Francesca started, comporting herself as she directed her body towards me. She buttoned up the top of my shirt before grasping the ends of my bowtie. She started deftly weaving the ends in a pattern that seemed vaguely reminiscent of the video guides on Utube I watched and failed to replicate.

"Why do you know how to tie bowties?" I asked as she tugged and completed the final loop. She made the devilish ordeal seems like child's play.

"So I can act superior when I tie a man's bowtie for him," she responded flatly.

"Hehe, I didn't know you had a sense of humor," I said with an uneasy giggle. She looked at me with narrowed, unamused eyes before beginning her brisk strut into the school.

"That wasn't a joke?" I asked nervously, as I powerwalked abreast to her.

"No," she responded curtly. Francesca usually hid her passive aggressive remarks under a smokescreen of smiles and French babblygook words, but she was confrontationally passive aggressive tonight...

God she is really pissed at me tonight...

This was the first moment that it hit me that these forty-ish minutes were going to be grueling. But I reminded myself that it was just forty-ish minutes. Forty-ish minutes then Homecoming King and Queen would be announced, then I would be free to stop pretending to be straight, then beg Daren to give me a second chance and then... maybe something sexy would happen? A Panther can hope...

We entered the school's gaudy green and white main atrium, which for once wasn't crowded to the brim with loitering students/hallway traffic. Just a few alumni stood around chit chatting and the odd student heading over to the nice girls bathroom in the area (that wasn't guarded for once). A pair of black-bordered, rainbow standing-signs, indicated 'this way for gay!' with arrows pointing down the East hallway. The raucous of the gymnasium brought considerable noise to the room despite the distance.

Francesca's gait slowed, and then she stopped in place. The Husky raised a quick eyebrow at the signs as her well-trimmed ears started twitching. Her eyes slowly widened, and she mouthed a 'what?' to herself, fiercely exasperated. "Something wrong?" I inquired. I couldn't scratch the feeling that I'd be asking that quite a lot tonight.

"This song was not on the playlist that I approved," The Husky stated judiciously, eyes icy with indignance. It took my slowed senses a moment to pick up on it, but after a moment of listening to the lyrics, I could definitely tell that it was not a song with Francesca's golden seal of approval:

That's what I'm talking 'bout, you raw ass ho Puppers put your tail up if you got that dough Come on!

Booty Butt, Booty Butt Booty Butt Cheeks Booty Butt, Booty Butt Booty Butt Cheeks

Kinda catchy though...

"I'm going to have a long conversation with Jasmine about undermining my music selection," Francesca muttered spitefully to herself, continuing her angry strut toward the gymnasium. I reluctantly followed.

Upon reaching the entrance to the gym, I was figuratively gagged by an impressive rainbow pair of curtains adorning the 10-foot doors to the gym. A big burly Panda woman with a bad case of resting bitch face stood out by the reception desk. Additionally, a few danced-out revelers leisurely chatted in the hallway by a mobile popcorn stand with multicolored coated-popcorn, but for the most part the hallway was empty. All the action seemed to be happening beyond those curtains...

A chord of vexation struck Francesca's expression as she eyed the Panda woman, "Angie's Lesbian Mom? Of all the annoying PTA members to..." she began, only to spot the rainbow curtains that declared 'be gay, break rules'. She took a step back. "What is going on here? Everything was all but ready and perfect three days ago! What is with all of these ill-mannered changes? I am getting to the bottom of this!" she declared as she marched in a beeline toward the rainbow curtains. She didn't quite make it inside.

"Woah woah woah," stated the muscular Panda woman at the entrance desk in that strangely soft voice of hers, darted up from her seat and grabbing Francesca by the shoulder. "Hetero couple, huh?" Angie's Lesbian Mom (That's her full name by the way; 'Angie's' is her first name, her last name is 'Lesbian Mom') ask-said dubiously as she thumbed to me after I jogged on over. "Entrance fee is 50 dollars."

Francesca was not having it. She looked at the Panda mom with a look that could vaporize reinforced steel. "Excuse me? I am Francesca Buchannan, president of the student council. I created this event. You have no right to charge the host!"

That forceful response would have cowed anyone other than Angie's Lesbian Mom. The butch energy radiating from this mama was intractable, "I read the PTA handbook: payment rules apply to all students equally, student council or otherwise. So pay up, or make yourself real gay, real fast."

You could practically see Francesca internally cursing the woman in front of her. "I don't have time for this," Francesca glowered, throwing her paws up in the air. She then directed her harsh gaze at me expectantly. I blinked back at her, eyes shifting around uncomfortably. "Well? Pay her," Francesca clarified.

Are you kidding me?! "I don't even have fifty dollars in my bank account, much less on me!" I protested.

"UGH!" Francesca exclaimed, procuring her Prada purse from some mystery pocket dimension in her dress. She then procured a straight up 50 dollah bill, slamming it down on the desk in frustration, appeasing the Panda woman. "Good girl. Now don't forget these if you want to get back in," Mrs. Lesbian Mom said, handing us a pair of cheap-looking rainbow wrist bands. I put mine on like an obedient customer; Francesca just tossed hers into her purse. Clearly, she couldn't have a rainbow wristband clashing with her apparel.

"There, let's go!" she exclaimed before ducking under the heavy rainbow curtains. Letting out a large puff of air, I followed suit, tunneling under the heavy-duty curtains into a dick-blowing mind-blowing scene.

The din of the room hit my ears at the level of a nonstop bleachers cheer from a successful field goal, and my eyes were immediately met a collage of glowing neon colors mixed glowing amid an otherwise dark room. A bulky disco globe the size of Francesca's ego hung down from the center of the high ceiling, lighting the dark room in a dancing dapples of rainbow color. The gym walls and the table-covers of various stations were plastered with rainbow glow paint, superimposed by black-paint drawings of (what I assumed was) famous gay icons. The place was packed; students in the gym were turning it up hard in the central dance space, spinning glowstick rings on their appendages, shaking them with abandon to the beats of the song. It was hard to pick out the wallflowers at this event because from even just once glance at all the different stations, it was obvious that there was just so much to do.

"What the..." Francesca said stiffly as her composure slowly crumbled. The rainbow disco lights accentuated a poisonous medley of emotions stirring on her face. Her neck rotated like heavy machinery as she dreadfully soaked in blasphemous site after blasphemous site, anger building up in a fiery crescendo. She practically spat out the final word, "Phoque?!"

Holy shit, so she does know how to swear! ...I think?

Ignoring the odd look here and there from her loud entrance, Francesca began to list off all the specific problems of what looked to me like a dope party. As I watched her increasingly irate expression, I got the eerie impression that I was watching a Rube Goldberg machine set to ignite a pipe bomb...

"A Drag queen?! I vetoed that idea! For goodness' sake, she dancing like she's a member of Cirque du Soleil!" the Husky exclaimed, gesturing to a portable stage set up in the far end of the gym. Lip syncing to the Booty Butt song was a petite Otter queen with glow-in-the-dark beaded dreadlocks and a multi-colored jumpsuit. She'd jump into splits and death-drops to the beat drops of the song, and then contort her body in ways that had to be illegal. Damn, I wouldn't mind watching that for a while.

"Hoola-hoop swings hanging from the ceiling?! What if somebody hurts themselves trying to climb them?! That'll be a PR nightmare!" Francesca exclaimed, gesturing to highly populated edges of the gym. Clustered up there, were a bunch of reinforced glow-in-the-dark hoola hoops. They hung down near the ground from ropes tied to the basketball boards' support beam framework; black paint on the ropes provided the illusion the hoops floated in midair. It seemed like a fun use of extra space, even if students were unsafely Tarzaning the ropes. I even saw a pair of gay-looking underclassmen pushing each other on the hoop like it was a swingset... aw...

"I don't remember approving of half that food! And what did they do to my croquembouche?!" Ms. Complain continued, pointing over to are far right, where lay a smorgasbord of odd and normal foods atop a colony of glow-paint cover tables. To name a few there was a giant mound of tacos, all kinds of pies, a cheese and chocolate fondue station, and OMG MUG CAKES, hell yeah! The only thing that topped the mug cakes was when I noticed a dessert (croquembouche?) that deeply resembled a tower of hairy testicles. WOW.

Before I could crack a dick joke, Francesca's eyes tilted toward the next apparent atrocity for her to complain about. "What on earth is that that backdrop?! It was supposed to be a night in Paris!" She said with a sudden spike in inflection. In her distress she accidentally pronounced the 's' in 'Paris'.

I predictably looked over at the far left of the gym where a tiny Saint Bernard and super tall Chihuahua couple was getting their picture taken by some good Samaritan PTA member. The backdrop screen was designed to resemble some sort of... punk rock studio bedroom? Paired with a bunch of chain rope and gag props, it definitely give me a 'German sex dungeon' vibe instead of 'night in Paris'.

"I guess you could call it, 'Paris Is Burning' haha," I joked, only for it to completely fly over an infuriated-Francesca's head, who just huffed and puffed at the blasphemy that lay before her. I began to explain the only highbrow joke I ever pulled off in my life to Francesca (who wasn't listening to me), but something else 'obscene' quickly caught her eye. And this was the one that set off the pipebomb, boom.

"GENDER NEUTRAL BATHROOMS?!" she screamed out a voice tinted with hatred and betrayal, as if she had just found out that the French Olympic team had just lost the gold at fencing. She then coughed when she noticed people were starting at her after her outburst. "Why don't we just abolish marriage, religion and civil society while we're at it?!" she said in distress as she flicked her writs infuriatedly at the shitteiries/pisseries behind the photo backdrop. With my flawless panther low-light vision, I saw that both signs to the side of the door were replaced by an overlay with a half man-half woman symbol on it. A banner hung over the two push-doors proclaiming 'fuck gender policing'. I didn't see what the big deal was. Considering that nobody but creepy lunch lady Erma dared use the girls' bathroom in the gym (it was haunted by the restless spirit of a peeping tom Wolf), at least girls could relieve themselves without having to exit the gym this way.

At this point, people were actively avoiding the fuming Husky, hugging the walls as they walked in and out of the gym to maximize distance. I internally groaned at the irony that Ms. Proper and Prissy was the one embarrassing me. Desperate for any sort of distraction, I quickly noticed a feline at one of the greeting tables beckoning Francesca over. "Uh... Francesca?" I tapped her shoulder, pointing over to an eager Lion in a black turtleneck, shutter glasses, a slanted beret, and lurid lemon-lime suit jacket. He, and an Aardvark student, stood behind the welcoming table with a bunch of gift baskets piled on it. When I noticed the slicked back mane I confirmed it to be Arcangelo: the metrosexual starving artist senior whose parents just so happened to be obscenely rich. He incidentally happened to be the 3rdmost popular boy in school, which definitely had nothing to do with his parents' money and everything to do with him being an artistic visionary, yup.

Francesca deflated after realizing Arcangelo was nearby, walking stiffly over to the Lion. He flashed a very pleased smile at the student council president. "Good evening, or, 'bonsoir' Francesca. I'm so glad for the design suggestions you made. Your plastique pastel extravaganza concept was inspired, but the 'black rainbow' color pallet just spoke to my soul. With the new decorations I was really able to channel Light Andy Warhol meets Dark Andy Warhol and has sloppy gay sex," he said completely sincerely, creating a rainbow-shape arc with one of his paws.

You could practically see the color drain out of Francesca's fur: first when she heard 'black rainbow', and second when she looked at all the phallic glass objects stacked by the gift baskets. The drained color was supplanted by crimson vexation. "Arcangelo, what in Marie Antoinette's name are you handing out?!" she asked, utterly dismayed as she pointed at the glass phalluses of sexual pleasure.

"Why, on top of greeting table duty, I'm doubling as the dildo sommelier! I recommend to our leaving guests which dildo they should take with their gift baskets," he proclaimed gracefully, despite the fuckery that just came out of his mouth. Francesca's jaw dropped in offence, momentarily at a loss for words. "Adding handcrafted dildos to the gift baskets was a tall order, but luckily my parents got me that glass-blowing studio for my 17th birthday, bless their souls. I really made a miracle happen! Aren't I just the most dependable visionary out there?"

You could practically hear the nerve endings in Francesca's brain snap. "Dildo sommelier?! Ahahaha, what?! I didn't approve of this! Nobody with the tiniest pittance of decency would allow this!" she exclaimed as if Arcangelo's status had jumped from bourgeoisie to proletariat from that term alone.

Aaparently Aaron Aaronson was aalso aatening this aaffair aas aan aanal aanalyst, aading in to the aargument to Aarcangelo's aaid. "I aam aalso aalloting aanal aacupressure aaplinances to aatendees. Shall I aasist you in your aadventure toward aanal aawakening?" when Francesca didn't respond to the plebian, Aaron's beady gaze shifted to me.

I tugged at my collar uncomfortably. "Ahaha... maybe we can talk after the dance"

Doing my best not to show interest in any phallic glass objects, I looked at Arcangelo's perplexed expression; there were those dial up tone noises again. "But... it was in the student council email three days ago, along with all the other last-minute changes," the Lion stated calmly.

Francesca's angry visage began to crack slowly. "Student council email? But Ellie's the only other one with access to..." she contemplated to herself. Her eyes sunk darkly, her whole body tensing up. Biting her lower lip, she darted her eyes around the room. "Sabotage... This is a coup d'etat... Ellie, or Ellie and several others, are trying to overthrow me," she whispered to herself conspiratorially. Her shifting gaze gave me the impression that she suddenly lost faith in every single other living being on Earth. "Arcangelo! That email was clearly meant to sabotage me and my plans for this dance! Why didn't you tell me something suspicious was going on?!" she demanded feverishly.

Arcangelo returned her gaze blankly for a moment. Cue even more dial up tone noises. "But... a 'dildo sommelier' sounded like a request you would make," he reasoned.

The dead, flat frown on Francesca's face clearly spelled out 'this fucking moron' before she went off on him, "Because it has a French word in it?!" the Husky exclaimed, arms gesticulating up and down in controlled exasperation. "I'm more than just the same joke over and over again!" she proclaimed, to which Aaron shamefully looked down at his toes and frowned.

Francesca's breathing became rampant as she continued, "I have elegance and class, and I just... ugh!" The Husky fanned out her fingers by her hips as if to say 'stop, calm down' to herself. "I don't have time for this. I need to stay composed... survey the damage, see my plan though to the end. Then I can figure out which traitors are responsible for this atrocity and destroy them."

Without saying goodbye to Arcangelo, Francesca began strutting over to the crowded food tables to 'survey the damage'. Once again, I followed toward land of gastronomical delight, quickly snatching up a gooey chocolate mug cake. As I chowed down on the decadent treat, a curious looking design on one of the cakes' frosting caught my eye. It was drawn poorly enough that you wouldn't recognize it was unless you were in the know; goatse. Don't look that up, you'll regret it. Seriously, don't.

Francesca placed a gloved paw placed up to her muzzle as she scanned the food, eyes returning to the testicle tower by the end. The cream puffs were stenciled to look like they were hairy balls, and an erect pastry phallus shot up from the tip of the tower. "I am viscerally appalled that somebody would do this to my croquembouche," she said in a distressed tone, her pitch suddenly much higher and whinier. You'd think she was visiting her comatose mother or something with how upset she looked...

"I dunno, I think it's kinda funny," I said through a mouth of mug cake as I casually popped a cream puff from the croquembouche into my mouth. Creamy goodness exploded in my mouth, mmm.

She didn't respond to my comment, opting instead to walk toward the massive punch bowl, there was a group of three giggling students by the punch bowl, who panicked and scattered when they saw the student council president coming over. With intent eyes, Francesca delicately fanned the air above the bowl toward her nose. "Spiked, of course it is!

Once again, Francesca disappointedly scanned the length of the table and its varyingly appropriate assortment of foods. "Where are my souffles? The cinnamon apple bostock, and..." Her eyes popped wide open as she identified a platter stacked with yellow-biscuits. "My Gougeres!" the Husky exclaimed worriedly, walking over to the platter, carefully placing one on a paper plate with a plastic fork and knife so as not to dirty her gloves. She brought a tiny sliver of a biscuit into her mouth and chewed twice. Her shoulders slumped defeatedly. She put down her utensils on the paper plate to steeple her fingers against her forehead as if deeply stressed.

More melodramatics? God this is getting grating...

"What's wrong?" I asked obligatorily.

"The one thing on the original menu not tampered with, and emulsification of the egg is all wrong!" she said in a pouty yet highly upset tone. Her frown was exaggerated enough to be the facepaint of sad clown. "This is a disaster. I'm devastated that I let something like this slip under my radar!"

Out of curiosity I snatched up a 'gougere' and heartily bit into it. The taste was similar to a savory cheddar biscuit, maybe just a bit eggier. I didn't know what she was talking about: it was pretty good. "I think you're overreacting. This homecoming dance might be wilder than you wanted, but the food still tastes good, everyone's having fun, and everything fits the LGBT theme so well it's still got some class to it," I said through a mouthful of gougere, before stuffing the rest of it in my maw.

"'Class'? Yeah, like 4th grade class!" Francesca retorted with one of her indignant laughs. She breathed intensely, raising a paw up as if questioning the existence of God. "This was supposed to be an elegant soiree where I get crowned as homecoming queen along with Jayce and meet a new gay-best friend. Instead everything is incomprehensibly vulgar and gauche! I just feel like my vision has been so..." Emotion welled up in her as she threw her arm down and daintily stomped her right heel. "Trivialized!" she bellowed out, her complaint getting mixed into the techno beats and din of the room. When nobody acknowledged her statement, Francesca's gaze turned to me as if expecting some sort of validation.

*chews slowly* "I don't know what that word means," I lied after swallowing my food.

Her face sunk in frustration at my remark. "How could this night get any worse?" she lamented to herself with faint moan. Almost immediately she got an answer to that question. Her eyes widened as she identified a gay couple with a massive height difference walking our way. "Oh no, that's my ex-gay best friend. Quick, act suave and manly," she suddenly insisted to my bewilderment.

I snaked my tongue around my maw to pick up the remaining bits of food and swallowed. "Act manly? I mean I'm not usually..." I started off before getting a full eye view of a twinky Black Monkey in glittery eyeliner, skinny jeans and a tanktop that revealed his midriff. It was Reginald Gaylord (yes, that's a real last name), theater geek extraordinaire and somehow the 6th most popular boy in our school. "feminine..."

"Francesca! What's the tee girl, how've you been?" Reginald said with a sassy flick of wrist, and a swoosh of his tail that wrapped around his burly Elephant date's leg.

Francesca started smiling as if her photo was betting taken, "Oh, Reginald, it's been a such a long while. How are you?" she asked slickly, hiding her fluster from just moments prior.

Eerily skinny Monkey midriff was now only a foot away from me and oh my god. I knew he was gay, but tonight full on flamboyant flaming fruity fish fairy. The way he swerved his hips when he walked and... stood in place, was like right out of drag queen runway. His voice was so high pitched and nasally you'd think he'd just inhaled 5 balloons' worth of helium after a hundred beestings to the nose. Wrapping his arms around the Monkey's shoulders, was this massive, muscular Elephant who... wait a minute.

"Weren't you one of the Alderson High Meatheads?" I questioned the incredibly stacked man in front of me.

The Elephant coughed uncomfortably, "Uh... I think you're mixing me up with someone else," he said, shifting the arm that he totally shot steroids into out of sight. I nodded my head dubiously.

"Gurl, you really outdid yourself," Reginald cheerfully continued, trilling his fingers at her. "This Homecoming is snatched._Like I am just feeling my _oooooats," he said, sensually rubbing his chest with an oddly carnal expression on his face.

"Oh, much obliged! I'm very versatile in my artistic inspiration," Francesca responded boastfully even though she hated the theme and I didn't doubt for one second that she believed Reginald's compliment.

Reginald's mouth spread open as his focus shifted to me. He put a finger on his lower lip, "Oh, and this fine piece of man next to you... Is he your date or..." Sudden intensity and malice filled the Monkey's voice, "...your new gay best friend?" he spoke the words darkly as if like were a death curse.

It was... an unsettling delivery, but after dealing with Francesca's complaining for this long, I couldn't resist the opportunity for a snarky response. "I mean, 'friend' is a really strong wor- OW!-" I yelped as Francesca silently dug her heel into the flat of my right foot. That was undoubtedly going to leave a bruise. "I mean, I'm her date! Her suave, manly, heterosexual date!" I obediently corrected myself.

The intensity in Reginald's glare was replaced by glib excitement. "Alright, party! Don't disappoint Franny-poo, kay?" He giggled at me.

Francesca let out a few convincing giggles of her own, "Oh that's not going to be an issue. Rob's a gallant member of the football team, on top of his academics, and incredibly popular," she said in a way that was creepily doting as she glided a paw across my chest. I could practically feel my penis shrivel as she did so. Francesca then returned fire, "So Reginald, is this your new boyfriend then? Whatever happened to..." Cue one exaggerated pause to imply promiscuity. "Larry, was it?"

Reginald 's head rolled along with his eyes in a wide loop. "Oh gurl, let me tell you! These married 37-year-olds are so immature, always wanting to spend time with their wives and kids instead of me! So I dumped Larry's sorry, wife-loving ass. I'm into single dads now. Nothing turns me on more than a big strong, responsible man who still has all the time in the world for me," he cooed, sensually groping the pecs of his boyfriend, who let out a few aroused snorts from his girthy trunk.

For once Francesca seemed to be on the same wavelength as me: baffled. "Oh, that's... wonderful, truly," she added, trying her best to hide how off-put she was by PDA.

Forget the PDA, I, for one, was not going to let that comment sit unquestioned. "Single dad? Just how old are you, anyway? Are you really a highschooler?" I demanded of the Elephant, mouth open and brows fully furrowed.

In response to my question-accusation, the Elephant's eyes started shifting from side to side, as if looking for an immediate escape. "Oh hey, this is my song!" he said in strained excitement, referring to the current song that was already halfway over. "C'mon Reggie, let's go dance... on the other side," he said tugging on the twinks-R-us employee of the months.

Reginald 's eyes lit up. "Yaaaaas, queens gonna slay the dancefloor. Toodle loo Franny-poo. Baiiiiiiiiiii," Reginald waved back with his tail as he parted from us.

"Do have a ball," she responded back with a few waves of her fingers, her expression quickly breaking into disgusted exasperation once his back was turned. "Looks like he didn't see through our facade," she with a relieved sigh. I wasn't so much worried about the warlike undercurrents of their conversation. Instead I was just questioning why Alderson High had fully-grown adults on their football team. Like what the fuck?!

As I stared at the departing odd couple, I caught sight of a six-foot four Iguana's head popping out among the much shorter party goers in my periphery. It was Jayce, obviously, and he just watching the drag show by the outer fringes of the crowd... standing alone. He didn't have a date. Anyone could literally ask him out right now. Why was I here playing fake-date with Francesca again?

I had to point it out, because this whole thing was starting to get ridiculous, "Francesca, look, Jayce is over there watching the drag show by himself. He's not even here with anyone else; you could just ask him dance right now and I bet he'd say 'yes'. Things are already not going according to plan to you tonight, can we just drop this act?" I pleaded, trying my best not to whine at how fed up I was with this whole charade.

Francesca turned to me with stone cold eyes. Bitch was pressed like a panini. "No, Rob. One, I know Reginald, and he was being one hundred percent factious. Two, that's not the traditional approach that Jayce or I covet. Jayce is a man of elegance and refined tastes; he won't settle for a woman who lowers herself to be with him. And three, I'm already accommodating you with the deal as it is. I need to salvage something, or this night will be an unmitigated disaster," she stated stubbornly.

FFFFFFF YOU EVEN USE PRETENTIOUS WORDS LIKE HE DOES! YOU TWO ARE A MATCH MADE IN HELL HEAVEN! JUST ASK HIM OUT ALREADY AND STOP DRAGGING ME INTO YOUR BULLSHIT!

Of course I didn't actually say any of that. Oh no, I just muttered swears under my breath while imagining bad things I wanted to do to Francesca. Ignoring my minor display of irritation, Francesca pressed her palms together as if she had just formulated her next move. "Alright, let's go dance close to him, but not suspiciously close. Do try to look like you're having thee romantic experience of your life, remember we need to make him jealous," she decidedly explained as she pulled me by my arm, dragging me toward the central dance floor. Once again, I found myself caught to the beat of her drum.

FUCK ME! The things I agreed to just to stay in the closet...

I began relenting, "Well I guess I can give it a..." That was, until I noticed a disgusting sight. "Oh god," I muttered to myself, disheartened. I had just spotted Daren and Toru dancing not too far away from the spot Francesca indicated, just a bit more in the center of the crowed dance floor. Daren had his paws on Toru's hips as they swayed to the music, his muzzle resting on the Akita's shoulder. Ewwww, it was making me awkward and jealous enough to shrivel my heart three sizes smaller. And that was from half the gym away, I didn't want to get closer to that! Plus, I needed to be coming out later tonight, I didn't want Daren to see I was still taking out Francesca, much less dancing with her!

I stopped, halting Francesca. "Uh, on second thought, I don't really know how to dance. Dancing with me might backfire on you. I bet Jayce is a much better dancer anyway, you really should just ask him," I suggested glibly, trying to hide the waves of panic and feelings of fuck.

"No, Rob. Just follow my lead and we can make it work," Francesca stated firmly.

"You know how to dance?" I asked, internally bashing my head into a wall because I lost my leverage to complain.

"I do ballet, and I used to take ballroom dance lessons," Francesca briskly explained as she continued tugging on my arm, dragging me over to the dance floor.

"What did I even bother asking?"

And that was that: I was dancing to gay club music with Francesca Buchannan. Joy.

She was admittedly a very gifted dancer, sashaying, twirling, bending and her curving her body like leaf spiraling in the wind (not that it mixed perfectly with the technopop song playing). I was content to let her do her thing, and just spin my fists in circles and pump my hips back and forth in the same way the whole time. But soon enough, she saw it fit for us to dance together, and as a dance partner she was controlling.

She was aiming for a slow sensual waltz to the technopop song, and it was not working. She would gestured me to twirl her here, hold the small of her back and dip down there, maybe lift her up and twirl her a little... Not that Jayce ever noticed us, but if he did it had to look like she was giving me dance lessons than actually dancing with me. Brilliant.

All the while I couldn't help but steal glances at Daren and Toru a bit deeper into the mesh of dancing furs (which probably wasn't helpful). Toru's dancing didn't strike me as anything special, but my buff Rottie was killing it: he was tirelessly jumping up and down, throwing his arms this way and that, and shaking his perfectly thicc booty for all it was worth. I had no idea Daren could dance so well... I mean, he wasn't a technical dancer, but he sure knew how to swerve those hips... and twerk...

"Ow, careful where you're stepping," Francesca said as I absentmindedly stepped on her foot mid-waltz step.

"Sorry," I said. I managed to keep focus for a good ten seconds before I couldn't help but briefly look back over to the Rottie and Akita.

...that should be me dancing with Daren, not Toru... look at him being all disgustingly adorable and cute...

*foot stepping noises*

"Ow! What, do you have two left legs?" Francesca hissed.

"Sorry!" I repeated, trying to salvage my footwork. I mentally scolded myself that I better not step on her again. Only half a minute later, the moment before I started a waltz dip with Francesca, I observed le truly nasty act.

What're they... NO! Don't grind up against Daren's ass! I was there first! I have dibs!

Francesca went *thump* as I gracelessly dropped her onto the ground.

"UMPH! I'm the one in heels here, how are you so clumsy?" she admonished in a whisper as she stood back up and dusted her back off, still forcing herself to smile like she was having a good time.

"Sorry! I swear I'm not doing it on purpose!" I apologized for the third and final time because I would not make any more mistakes after what she told me next.

As we clasped our hands back together in the standard waltz position, the Husky humorously whispered in my ear, "Drop me one more time and I swear I will have your spine repurposed as a pitching wedge."

"...Yes ma'am," I meekly replied, fully convinced that it was just not worth it to look over at Daren and Toru. Thus I endured a whole 4 minutes of humiliating and pointless dancing with Francesca. Jayce just stood in his spot the whole time, watching the drag show...

But there was a silver lining: it came in the shape of a tiny Raccoon girl passing by. It was Ellie from student council, just casually observing the merriment around her, looking warry and lost without having any work to do. Francesca ears shot up when she saw Ellie mid-dance, a killer focus creasing across her face as she began marching in the direction of the Raccoon. "YOU! JUDAAAAAAAAS!" she snarled. Regard to my presence utterly lost, Francesca launched her whole being in the direction of the hapless Racoon, out for blood.

Rodent-escape instincts must have kicked in to Ellie, because she bolted. "Eep!" the Raccoon squealed, scurrying away and melding into the crowd of dancing bodies with Francesca hot on her trail.

"Come back here and confess, or I'll send you straight to the guillotines!" were Francesca's final words before I lost sight of the two. And there I was left, awkwardly standing still on the edge of a dancing crowd. For a second I considered going after her... end of sentence. Fuck. That.

Being Francesca's date was exhausting. I was sweaty in a tuxedo at an LGBT dance where I was stuck with a girl as my date, the object of my affections was dancing with another guy, and I still had... *checks phone* 33 minutes of heterosexual penance left.

"I could use some spiked punch right about now..." I thought to myself as I sighed and left the dance scene. Heh, only 17 and already turning into an alcoholic, Dad would be proud.

Resisting the urge to undo le bowtie, I poured myself le glass of punch at le food station, walked over to le seating area, and reclined against one of les suspended hoola hoop seats, halfheartedly swaying le back and forth. Goddammit I've been listening to Francesca for too long...

This whole night was the pits. Nothing but nonstop romp room fuckery dealing with Francesca's delusions of sabotage and losing fur over the event not being some hoity toity soiree or whatever. I knew being her date was going to be bad, but this was bullshit. And everyone else having such a blast, which gave me hella FOMO. I'm gay too! Let me in on the fun, please?!

Looking wistfully over at Daren and Toru shaking it in the sprawling crowd, I took a sip of the punch and nearly coughed at the sensation. It was nearly as strong as Dad's liquor. That punch bowl was huge! How did anyone manage to spike it this strong?!

*15 minutes ago at the food and drink station*

Enter Daren casually whistling as he dug out a water bottle full of clear liquid from his sweats. As he unscrewed the cap and poured the contents into the punch bowl, he noticed a curvy green-haired Bader across the table in fishnets and an acid wash crop top. She just so happened to also be pouring clear liquid into the punch bowl, accompanied by a Bull in a tuxedo-print T-shirt, clearly on lookout duty.

The Badger gave an amused smile as she poured her very strong-smelling substance, "'Sup. Daren right? Are you spiking the punch too?"

*glug glug glug*

"Oh, Pesto, yo. Yeah, I figured this dance could use more punch, ya know?" The Rottie responded with a quirky smile.

*glug glug glug*

The Badger snorted, "Huh-larical. We must share like a wavelength or something. We should really hang out more. Anyway, what're you spiking the punch with?"

*glug glug glug*

"Vodka. You?"

*glug glug glug*

"Evercleeeeeear."

*glug glug glug*

Impressed, Daren's muzzle recoiled. "Damn girl, you ain't mess around!"

*glug glug glug*

Pesto grinned, mindlessly opening up another flask of Everclear and pouring it into the punch basin. "What're you talking about? I mess around all the time. Ain't that right Marty?" she said to the Bull next to her, tongue sticking out playfully.

*glug glug glug*

"Y-Yeah..." Marty responded shyly, pressing the tips of his indexes fingers together.

*glug glug glug*

"We're totally fucking," she expounded to the Rottie, who couldn't help but let out some wheezing laughs, draining his second bottle of vodka.

That was about when they realized that they just poured in way more alcohol than originally intended. "Oh shit, I hope that ain't too noticeable," Daren said, mixing the punch and pouring himself a sample into a nearby red solo cup. He let the liquid sit in his muzzle before smacking his lips, "Yeah... that be like a quarter alcohol," he stated worriedly.

"Good thing I conveniently forgot to assign any PTA members to the food station," Pesto said while fluttering her green eyelash extensions, pouring herself a cup of alcohol that happened to have some punch in it.

...Well, it probably wasn't anyone I knew.

I continued sipping from the astringent punch by my lonesome (despite being surround by people having fun T.T), giving little regard for how much I was condemning my blood alcohol concentration. Maybe if I was lucky, Francesca would be on her wild Raccoon chase for the rest of the night...

I continued to masochistically watch Daren and Toru dance in the crowd as my head grew heavier, and thoughts slower. For a moment I thought I caught Daren's eye, and I waved a paw at him, but he quickly shouldered around and continued dancing with Toru. I let out a defeated sigh. And then it all came to a head with the next song: a slow-building club jam with a heavily modulated singer voice.

It's 4 in the morning We've been going all night And we both had a little too much

"Aw shit, this my fucking jam!" I heard Daren's voice carry over the din of the crowd. He started bouncing up and down ecstatically before swerving his meaty body around with newfound energy. Ughhhhh Daren's favorite song and he's sharing it with Toru... I don't think I've ever seen him this excited before...

They say we don't got the money And we're wasting our time But we know that our love is enough

Daren began singing along with his electrified dancing, the movement of his lips more expressive than I've ever seen him. I couldn't help but frown, my tail swishing around about my feet.

They tried to break us But we're too thick And they're throwing pebbles But they're useless, useless

*Takes a massive gulp of boozed punch as Daren and Toru start bumping asses together*

Lemme tell you that Akita was a snake in an Akita's clothing! ...Wait what was the expression again? Anyway, he acted like he was shy and quiet only now he was dancing like a thristy hobag! How dare!

Can't kill our love like this We're too sick They're jealous of all that we got

I could make out Toru's laughter as Daren picked him up and started spinning him in the crowd. The song reached its buildup section, with some sort of mystic background melody joined in to the beat, somewhere between a cello and a voice. I began tensing up with the crescendo of the song, my tail bristling up.

'Cause they got nothing on us They got nothing on us 'Cause they got nothing on us

Daren dropped Toru back down on the ground, his paws wrapped around the small of the Akita's back, staring into his eyes. Forget my tail, the entirety of my fur was bristling up now. Why was I watching this?! This was awful! I'd rather stare longingly into fucking Francesca Buchannan's eyes! SO WHY COULDN'T I LOOK AWAY?!

Nothing on us Nothing on us Nothing on us No, they got nothing on us

Daren's muzzle was inching closer to Toru's as the two Dogs continued to sawy back and forth to the beat. For a moment I could swear Daren was looking at me as he did it. My eyeballs felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets as I stared in horror.

They got nothing on us No, they got nothing on us

Their muzzles were now inches apart. I inadvertently began crushing the solo up in my paw. Stop that! I don't like this!

They got nothing on us No, they got nothing on us

Their snoots booped. Daren began tilting his lips toward Toru's...

NoooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

*smooch* The two Dogs lips merged in a kiss, Daren rubbing his paws against Toru's back.

9999 critical damage!

My face and mind went through all seven stages of grief before the song started on its second verse. Toru and Daren smiled at each other after the kiss, then laughed and continued their dynamic dancing to the beat. This was my hell. Horrible awful, disgusting BADNESS. What time was it? I checked my phone: 7:31. 29 minutes before my time as an indentured servant was up. Close enough! Francesca can go huff paint thinner and play in traffic for all I care, I'M OUT!

I had to break up this touching moment between Daren and Toru. But first thing was first: I drained the remaining moonshine punch from my nearly demolished cup, a warm wave coursing through my blood. I crushed the cup and haphazardly tossed it behind me motivating myself with a big nostril breath. Liquid courage attained, I moseyed over toward the dancefloor, eyes targeted on Daren. I danced the bare minimum to keep my cover (and also to not fall over, my balance was suffering from that punch), waiting for that golden opportunity when the song ended to wedge the fuck out of them.

The song had just one other verse, not even reaching three full minutes. It was still the most torturous not-even three minutes of my life. When I realized the song was ending on a fadeout: I knew that was my golden chance.

Bumping into who knows how many dancers on the way, I snaked on up behind Toru, who was laughing as he caught his breath. Daren was doing his trademark sexy smile at Toru AND I WAS NOT HAVING IT.

In the already tight dance floor, I shambled on up real close to those Dogs, placing my paws on their shoulders, breaking them the fuck up. Toru jerked to attention, Daren just stared levelly and unsurprised. "HeyDaren, hey Toruu!" I said with a forced smile, my instinctual closeted defense system was alerted his bright and... gay outfit. But there was no time for that; I was already starting to slur my speech, had to make this fast before the next song started.

"Uh, hi Rob," The Akita responded shyly as Daren eyed me warily, but with something of a smirk beginning to form on the Rottie's face.

Why is he looking at me like...? "Do you mind if I borrow-" I almost said 'your date' to Toru but I internally refused to accept that I lost to a short fluff ball. "Daren, for a moment?"

"Rob, Iain't wanna be rude," Daren started, slurring his speech roughly as much as I was. "But it's me and Toru's nightogether," He stated brusquely yet smugly. I clicked in my brain that I Daren did see me wave at him, and kissed Toru to make me jealous. AND IT WORKED GODDAMMIT!

"Itzimportant though?" I said through closed teeth, speaking in a high candance.

Toru let out one of those worried 'hmm's to himself before he looked up brightly at Daren. "It's okay... I really want to go check on Scott anyway," he said earnestly.

If I weren't GETTING MY DRANK ON, then maybe I would have questioned how weird it was that Toru of all people, was going to 'check on Scott'. What, was it opposite day or something?

But then, a bright smile as colorful as the Akita's clothes emerged on the Akita's face; he seemed genuinely grateful and happy. "Thanks for convincing me to dance Daren, I've already had such an amazing time, so don't worry about me," the Akita said brightly, waving goodbye. I felt a quick pang of... guilt? As I saw him graciously give me the space I asked for.

"Later, cutie," Daren said sensually, giving him an air kiss as he turned to walk away. I did my best to pretend like I didn't see that.

Stirring the pot, huh Daren? You want a fucking spoon?!

"Yo, wassup?" Daren asked me after we extracted ourselves from the crowd toward the unoccupied gym walls, the next song blasting.

I hiccupped, staggering back into the wall. "Sorry Daren butlike, I reallyneed to talktoyou about somethin."

Amusement began to light up in Daren's mug, "Rob, youdrunk? Iain't know yougot lit too."

"What canI say, I'm fulla surprises... andalcohol! Let's just talkin private real fast, Lesjust gotothe hauntedgirls bathroom, nobody errgoesthere," I suggested, to which Daren looked at me as if to say 'you're definitely full of something' but otherwise went along with my drunken suggestion.

The former men's bathroom had a massive line forming outside, but there was none by the haunted bathroom, score. Daren paused for a moment when he read the sign that said: 'Warning, this bathroom is cursed. But it's not as cursed as gender policing!'. People in the other line gasped as they saw us entered the haunted facility.

The bathroom we entered was dank and balmy with ancient lightbulbs flickering on and off. The grimy wall tiles and caulking were chipping apart, and all manners of tiny insects scurried around this bathroom. Blood dripped from the ceiling into the nearest stall, some sort of phantasmal moaning noise emanating out of it. It was probably nothing though. This was fine!

Daren looked at me with an expression devoid of all amusement after observing the dripping blood and phantasmal groaning, "Alright Rob, wein thefucking cursedbathroom, alone. Youhave twominutes thenI'm going backoutto dance."

I sucked in a deep bout of air through my nostrils, "Firstof all, admitthat youtotally justkissed Toru thereto makeme jelly," I demanded, wagging a finger at him in loopy circles.

Daren took a few moments to respond, blinking slowly. "He's mydate. I can kissem if I wanna."

"Dodging le question! Suspiciousindeed," I said, drawing more circles with my pointer finger in front of Daren's muzzle.

Daren pursed his lips to one side and gently swatted away my finger, "Fine, maybe Idid. But ifyou ain't comminout, you ain't gotno rightacomplain."

"No, you'rewrong! Itotally came outto Francesca!" I excitedly informed him. "You wereright that Iwasan idiot tryingto stayin theclosest soI'm cominout! Boom!" I said dorkily flapping my arms up and down.

Daren gave me a slooooow dubious nod, "'Aight, so why wasyou dancing withher?"

"Funnystory there..." So I spent the next X minutes drunkenly recanting the details of my intense convo with Franny-poo, including the zombies and interdimensional shenanigans that pursued. I finished up by explaining the terms of the forty-ish minute fake boyfriend deal I made with her. It was a total kiki. "I swearto Glob, oncethey announce homecoming kingandqueen I'm free tocome outto whoever Iwant!" I said, raising my arms cheerfully. Daren's doubtful expression hardly budged. Looking at him I suddenly felt very inadequate, and very repentant for not taking his offer to go to homecoming together. "You'll goback todating mewhen Ido that, right? I'msorry Ididn't supportyou good, youwere right, please takemeback," I drunkenly whined with sagging ears and whiskers. I took a step forward and accidentally stumbled.

Before I had even fully conceived that I had nearly slipped, Daren had caught me with his sturdy arms. My muzzle found itself pressed up against the Rottie's sweaty, muscular chest. I got a good whiff of that earthy Rottweiler musk, extra strong from the dancing, and extra arousing. Drunk as I was, it took all I had to resist the temptation to wind my paws down his half-open hoodie, grope his chest and play with his huge nipples fuuuuuck.

I looked at up Daren, seeing a torn mix of emotions swirling in his eyes. "Iwanna believe you," Daren said, placing a paw to the back of my head and briefly caressing it. But right when I felt the urge to purr, he stopped and shoved up onto my feet, separating us. He glared at me intently, causing my breathing to become harsh and my heart beat to accelerate, "But thisstill thesame olshit! First itwas adumpster now wetalking ina fucking hauntedbathroom cause youtoo scaredta talkbout comingout in public, eventhough izafuckin LGBT dance. Nothing aboutthis says 'Imma guywho's gonna seriously comeoutof thecloset! Youstill makin excusesfor staying inthe closet! Anthatz notthe kindaguy I needin my life rightnow!"

My ears folded down. I felt a tight sensation in my chest. "But, Iswear I'mjust caughtina stickysituation andafter my dealz over-"

"-No Rob!" Daren cut me off in his full voice. I froze, raptured by the sudden passion in his voice. "Comingout izallbout pride and poweringthrough stupid bullshit likethat! Yajust gonna endupin thesame damn cycle ofholding yourself back, ifyou let every bougiebitch like Francesca keepyou from cominout! Fuck er! if you gonna doit THEN DO IT," he roared, the final words hitting me in my meme-loving core.

DO IT! JUST DO IT!

I stepped back as it bludgeoned by a sledgehammer. The intensity Daren emitted in his words was the same I felt when I came to my revelation of coming out early. Following up will all of Francesca's bullshit I had almost forgotten the sensation, but now, my body was engulfed by a sudden welling of power, and a sense of freedom. He was right: I didn't have to take any of this heterosexual date bullshit! THIS WAS MY TIME! MY FUCKING HOMECOMING OUT, "Youknow what? You're fuckinright. I'm goina prove itto you rinow. Thefirst personI see I'mgoinna come outto!" I declared, thudding my paws against my chest to motivate myself.

Intensity of emotion contained but still present, Daren started slow nodding to me, a hint of believe visible in his hazel eyes. Conveniently, right at that moment some innocent-looking Penguin girl with blonde pigtails rushed into the bathroom. "Oh, I hope no monsters are in here. Curse my tiny bladder!" she groaned to herself in a high-pitch squeaky voice, waddling toward a stall with hands desperately grasping at the front of her pink skirt.

A SIGN FROM THE GODS!

Excited and drunk, I raced toward my victim whose beak slowly opened in terror at the encroaching dark figure in the dimly-lit room. With a wild manic expression, I took her by the shoulders, and brought my face as close to her as possible mine so there was absolutely no way she could overhear me.

"I LOVE PENIS!" I bellowed into her face, her face feathers blowing backwards.

"AHHHH, GET AWAY FROM ME!" she screamed, slapping me in the face. She absconded the fuck out the bathroom, yelling out in in fear.

That went well!

I rubbed my stinging left cheek before I felt my mouth open in delight. I turned around to look at Daren him with an accomplished smile. "I didit!"

Daren looked at me with a blank stare and gaping muzzle. "Goddammit Rob," he said before a few chuckles escaped his throat. It wasn't long before he succumbing to a slowly escalating laughing fit, arms supporting his own body, "You so fuckinextra!"

"But Ididit!" I reminded him.

Daren started laughing so hard he wheezed as he struggled to speak. He used a finger to wipe away a tear, "Yeah... Iguess yadid,"

I started pumping my fists up and down in excitement. I was unstoppable! "See, ifI'm drunk Ican doit! That'show Itold Francesca! And Imma tell Toruand Scott and everryone whenwe hangout afterthis! Heck I'lldoit rinow!" I said, pulling my phone up and pulling up the first contact that struck my fancy: Marty.

I pounded out a quick message, sent it, and flashed the text log to Daren. "Look, whadI wrote!" Daren controlled his laughing fit and read the message: _I'm gayer than IKEA on Superbowl Sunday._He broke out into a whole new sequence of wailing laughter. He was now hunched over with knees buckled, paws gripping onto his thighs for support.

I couldn't help but start chuckling myself, before I couldn't help but frown sentimentally as I remembered why I was doing that: for him. "Sodo you believe menow? Doyou believeme when Isay I wannacome out and I wanna bewithyou?" I asked Daren desperately, my whiskers sagging, begging for this beautiful man to acknowledge me. I still had a ways to go, but I never would have gotten this far without Daren, and I wanted him to help me all of the way. And I wanted to help him...

Daren suppressed his laughter, and took a few moments to breathe. He reclined against the wall and wiped his sweaty brow. Looking back at me plainly, a smirk quickly cracked on his muzzle. "Yeah... yeah Ibelieve you."

I smiled from my soul, darting over to Daren and wrapped my arms around his waist, collapsing my weight into his muscular frame. "I wantyou, Daren... youand only you..." I said, looking dreamily into those hazel gems of his, our muzzles nearly touching. "Asmy boyfriend," I said with all the sincerity I could muster.

Daren's eyes widened, and his lips slowly peeled open. "Rob..." he replied softly, arms now wrapping around my back, rubbing up and down my spine.

I took in a deep breath, "So sometime soon, lemme takeyou outona date, like... a real, actualdate. I'llhold your paw andkiss you inpublic andeverything, just please gimmea secondchance. I'm gonna prove myself toyou 'cause..." I gulped, and let the butterflies in my stomach take flight. "I think Ilove youmaybe."

His eyes grew wider than I'd ever seen them, and then narrowed as if burdened with the weight of emotion. "Rob..." he said in a high inflection, his eyes gleaming with moisture. He smiled as if painfully happy, staring into my eyes as. He opened his mouth...

And then he kissed me.

Our mouths came together as one, and it felt so right. We couldn't resist letting all our desires out right then and there. Our tongues danced together, the taste of sweet alcohol still lingering. He sucked on my lower lip, and I on his. I couldn't help but lower Daren's zipper and cop a feel of his massive pecs, my paws running through his chest's tawny patch of fur.

"Ng," he groaned into my lips in ecstasy, his body jittering as I began playing with his nipple, squeezing and thumbing the tip.

The muscular Rottie then sucked in a deep lungful of air, and cupped my chin with his paw, as if to tell me to slow down. He breathed heavily as I stared as his beautiful hazel eyes, and then swooped in with another deep, lively kiss. Our saliva mingled as I gave up every crevice of my lips and mouth over to Daren.

Before long Daren broke the kiss off. The Rottie looked at me with a lusty grin, growling as he took in my figure. "You lookso fuckinhot inthat tux. I wanna suckyour dick, c'mon," he said dragging me toward one of the less haunted stalls in the far end of the bathroom.

"Yessir," I gladly agreed.

Daren pushed me into the stall, and I collapsed on the toilet. It was dirty but with the whole world gently spinning around me and this hunk in front of me, I couldn't care in the slightest. He closed the stall behind him, and tugged his sweatpants down, his thick member springing up and down. Sexy bastard wasn't wearing underwear. Crouching down by the base of the toilet, he quickly unzipped my pants and yanked my stiff cock out. Daren lightly squeezed my shaft, a pulse of ecstasy pulsed through my being.

With one paw jerking his own big member, Daren's warm, wet muzzle enveloped my pulsating manhood. Bobbing up and down, Daren began slurping and sucking my cock for all it was worth. I gasped at the intensity, my rock-hard cock already on the edge.

"Ooohhh..." I moaned as I let myself slip into a world of pure bliss. I put a paw on Daren's head and directed him to slow down. I wanted to take my time with this...

"Ooh, that frisky Racoon! How dare she slip away from my grasp!" Francesca stated determinedly, now finding herself back in the sprawling, tackily-decorated gymnasium. She was panting from all the running, taking a moment to recuperate by the greeting booths. She began fanning herself with an ornamental handfan she took out from her purse, as her eyes scanned the energetic room for the off chance that the Raccoon would reappear. "I'll show her... just like Marie Antoinette showed those damn cake-eating peasants!"

As the Husky surveyed the scene, she seemed to remember something very very important. "Where the foie gras is Rob?" she asked herself. He was an athlete! How on earth was he not able to keep up with her chase?!

After several belittling moments of asking around, she eventually picked up from a group of chatting girls that there was some black monster in a tuxedo in the haunted bathroom. Putting two and two together, Francesca figured it was probably Rob.

"Ugh, unsanitary," the Husky commented under her breath as she entered the dilapidated, mildewy, and worst of all, _gender-neutral_restroom. She was further disgusted when she heard the slurping and moaning noised coming from the nearest stall (incidentally the one with dripping blood from the ceiling). Target acquired.

Having a sexual encounter when he was supposed to be her escort? She would not stand for this. She was going to give him the works. Bracing herself for gross sexual visuals, Francesca swung open the door ready to verbally attack the fool who dare cross her.

Rob was not inside this stall.

Inside was creepy Lunchlady Erma the Axolotl, sitting atop the filthy toilet. Her leathery, crusty pink body was entirely without clothes. She moaned in ecstasy as a spectral Wolf phantasm simultaneously administered cunnilingus and ghost-wailed into her pussy. The Axolotl's glass eye spasmed around like a googly eye, blood from the ceiling dripping on her exposed, sagging boobs. "Hey there big girl, want to play hide the pickle in the burger?!" she asked with a deep carnal growl, tilting a green glass dildo in her paw at Francesca.

*SLAM*

"EEEWWW!" Francesca exclaimed after a moment of shock, shaking her paws by her hips, as if to fling the disgust off her body. She was going to berate Rob to filth for indirectly exposing her to that.

She quickly picked up that a second pair of people were engaging in carnal acts in a stall further down. The voice moaning was, unmistakably Robert Hamilton. Francesca was ready to teach that unprofessional fake boyfriend his place...

"Aw yeah... I'm gonna cum..." I said a good three minutes into the blowjob, paws gripping both sides of Daren's hungry muzzle. It was already the best damn blowjob I could ever hope for, I couldn't focus or even think of anything else (not even the sound of some girl yelling 'ewww'). I could die now and be happy, so I was beyond eager to see what other sexual heights awaited me during my orgasm.

And then, the stall door swung open. Staring death lasers at me, it was my former slaver: Francesca Bucannon.

"Robert!" she roared, my body jerking with sudden reflexive tension, pressure reaching its limit in my manhood. Daren pulled his muzzle away from my cock and turned over in surprise seconds before I released my seed.

Boosted over the edge with a sudden jolt of fear, waves of visceral euphoria hammered at my nether regions as I reached a climax for the history books.

Slo-mo activate

"Uh-HUHUH-AHHH" I pant/screamed, utterly terrousified as my baby gravy slowly launched out of my schlong like gunfire. My body shot backwards against the toilet seat cover as a result of the world's hardest long-distance projectile orgasm ever.

Maw gaping open, I watched in stupored fright as a rope of semen launched closer and closer to the muzzle of my fake date.

My mind spoke before my lips could: Nooooooo

Splot

My blast of jizz made contact with Fracnesca dead in the left eye, causing her to recoil back and shut her eye tight with a shocked "Ah!". Settling on its target, the string of jizz dangled off the side of her muzzle. A second jet of semen had landed onto her left heel.

Unable to fathom the events that had transpired before her, Francesca stared inscrutably at me at Daren, both us exposed and taken aback. She slowly brought a paw to her face, rubbing some jizz off on her paw glove and examined it with her right eye. Her lips slowly peeled apart from her sharp fangs. She methodically turned her full attention like a killer robot identifying its target, unadulterated hatred slowly manifesting on her cum-covered profile.

Clearly, she was going to murder me.

...

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...Worth it.