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The swallow had a habit of hitting up parties like this one. They were usually pretty tame, even lame in that regard, but lame, tame parties were the kind that you came home from in one piece. A little beer, a little dancing, perhaps some sex; all good clean fun without the risk of waking up in a bathtub with a missing kidney.

Not that Aetos believed the tales about kidney theft. That was just a myth. Aetos was more worried about the real dangers like sexually-transmitted diseases. So far the bird had kept himself clean. A friend from high school had herpes, and the bird didn't want any part of that. It was pretty easy to keep clean as long as you weren't a total whore, of course. Aetos was a trim, pretty bird and he attracted his fair share of lovers, but he was selective and careful with them. It worked well. All of his judgment calls had been on the money so far and he trusted his instincts when it came to knowing whether or not he was in trouble.

Of course, had Aetos really had good instincts, he wouldn't have died.

Aetos had been in worse homes than this one. The occasion was a release party for a singer's newest album. Tracks from the album were playing and Aetos, truth be told, wasn't impressed. He had been a fan of Kahnso from the beginning, back when she had just been a vapid pop singer with a cute grin and a squeaky-clean image. That had been acceptable music. Tripe to be sure, but inoffensive tripe. It was one step above elevator muzak. He stuck with her because she showed some promise when she dared to get a little bit raunchy in her lyrics.

Then the woman really came into her own. Aetos had once read a review that described her breakthrough album Sucking Wound - disparagingly - as slutcore meeting heavy metal. And the music was good. The sound was unique, sexually-charged, and incredibly heavy. Minimal production, molten-metal riffs, scathing lyrics begging eagerly for cock and ripping apart the whole idea of sex at the same time. The moment he put the needle down on his copy of Sucking Wound was the moment Aetos became a true fan.

With her newest album, the singer was in a slump, trying her damnedest to recreate her breakthrough album. Rape Joke, the album was called, and Aetos thought the title track was good but the rest was the most basic filler. The swallow was still happy to be in her presence, even if she looked like shit and seemed to be exactly as insane as the rumor mill news said she was. He watched her from a distance (he had good eyes, being a bird) and saw the way she clung to her boyfriend, a dopey but cute red panda who was smaller than her. She fidgeted, scratched her arms, looked at empty spots in the middle of conversations as if hearing phantoms.

Aetos had a cousin with schizophrenia, and he had been steadily declining through the years to a point of gibbering paranoia. Kahnso's mannerisms were markedly similar to those of his cousin in the earlier stages of his illness.

At first Aetos had wanted an autograph, or at least to meet her. He believed he was as gay as a bird could be yet he found her overt sexuality boldly inspiring. Aetos was, in fact, not wholly gay, but it was so rare for him to find a woman who pushed his buttons the right way that he told anyone who asked that he was into men only.

The more Aetos observed her from afar, the more convinced the bird became that she was a time bomb. So easy to imagine the vixen - burly and big and wild-eyed - grabbing him and breaking his legs because she thought the sound of his hollow bones crunching would soothe the demons in her mind. The bird started to make plans to leave; he just wanted to get his swag bag first. He'd heard there was a fun souvenir for fans of Kahnso in it, along with a limited-edition pressing of Rape Joke, the namesake single, not the album itself.

In the den of the mansion which had seen better days (walls stained with cigarette smoke, holes in the plaster where fists had gone through and countless scuffs on the floors), Aetos moved with the party, ebbing closer to the display of swag bags. They were arrayed in three tiered circles around a vulgar display: Kahnso's naked body carved out of ice, vulva rendered in loving detail, though by now the ice's edges had begun to soften, water dribbling off the statue's extremities. Aetos had his feathered fingers in the loops of one of the small gift bags when he felt a paw on his ass. It squeezed until it caused him pain. Aetos chirped and grimaced, turning without taking his bag.

"Excuse me," he said, forcing a smile on his black beak. Part of him, the quiet but nervous part that expected to die in a traffic accident or get crushed by a meteor on his walk to the mailbox, expected Kahnso. What he got was close; the red panda, her boyfriend.

The ringtail leered down at Aetos, simpleton eyes conveying naked lust. "Hey. I never fucked a bird before."

Aetos could smell the red panda. His musk was a stench, earthy and ripe. This panda had no concept of deodorant, or even bathing, going by the sheen of sebum and sweat in his reddish fur. Aetos liked that, however. Although a hygienic bird, Aetos liked to get dirty. Some of his kinks tended to shock partners who weren't ready for them. The panda, a sexual freak, would have gladly indulged Aetos in his thirst for piss, among other things.

"Oh, no?" Aetos asked, startled by the smell and the bluntness. Not that the panda was unique or off-putting by being so open. In fact, Aetos found it endearing, if only because he was so visibly dumb. Aetos guessed the panda's IQ didn't include a third digit. "Well, maybe you could change that."

The panda smiled. Aetos started to fall in love with him. He was so simple and cute. The bird touched the panda's cheek in a scaly hand. "My name's Aetos. Yours?"

"Lars," the panda answered. "So, like, I fuck Kahnso. Pretty cool, right?"

Aetos felt the way he did when his little nieces and nephews bragged about little kid things: making it to eight-and-a-half years old, managing to ride a bike without falling off, finally molting for the first time. With them as well as with Lars, it was adorable. The swallow smiled and slid his hands around the panda's skinny chest. Sweat oozed through his badly stained wifebeater like grease through a bun. "That's cool, yeah," the bird agreed. "Will she mind if you fuck a bird?"

Lars shrugged. "She doesn't care. She fucks other people."

The bird nodded patiently. "Lars, why don't you take me somewhere private?"

"What, like," the panda receded into thought. He made Aetos think of an old computer. All Lars needed was a spinning hourglass. "Uh, a bedroom?"

"Yes, a bedroom," the swallow chuckled, pressing close to Lars. God, the panda smelled offensive. Aetos liked it; he rather liked any man who was bold enough to bask in his natural stink. He was always terribly clean, always concerned with smelling offensive, but through musky men, he lived vicariously.

Lars smiled in his uncomplicated way and hugged the bird under an arm. He led Aetos off to one of the bedrooms. From across the den, Kahnso watched, bloodshot ruby gaze drilling into their backs.

The bedroom was expansive but the lighting in the ceiling fixture was inadequate. A pair of forty-watt bulbs populated two of the four fixtures and so the bedroom had a claustrophobic quality, more shadow than shape. In here was a heady musk smell along with something acrid, like something sweet on the cusp of going sour. Aetos had no idea he was smelling meth residue. He was far more interested in the now naked panda, who sat on the bed with him and kissed him awkwardly on the beak.

"Never kissed a beak," Lars mumbled.

"I guessed," Aetos tittered. A soft and downy hand found Lars' penis. Big and black, uncircumcised, greasy with sweat; Aetos loved it. He bumped Lars' cheek with the top of his beak so that the slight hook of its tip did not catch on him. Aetos kept his beak filed, but occasionally he did snag people he meant to nuzzle with.

"Your, uh, feathers are soft," the panda said. He was not shy, but clearly struggled with vocabulary. "You know, your-, that stuff, it's not feathers. Uh."

"My down," Aetos explained patiently. He smiled. "Could just call it my fur."

Lars smiled. Fur was a word he knew. "Oh, okay. Yeah. Your fur, it's a lot softer than mine is," he said, fingers sliding over the bird's chest, underneath his shirt.

The bird's fur was soft but his hands were scaly. Much like how he groomed his beak for safety and pleasantness, Aetos also cared for his scales. The cream he moisturized with was expensive and obscure, but he considered it vitally important. It made his scales feel almost as soft as flesh. The manner in which Lars' thick penis throbbed in his stroking grasp exemplified why Aetos considered his hands so important. Nobody wanted a forty-grit handy.

"Lie back, you cute panda," Aetos cooed. His words had a soft and high quality - a kind of birdsong even in the spoken word. The panda obliged him with a nod and a smile which was simple but sweet. Then Aetos leaned into the panda's lap, and he touched his beak against Lars' thick, dark rod. He smelled Lars - of course he smelled Lars at all times right now, but he really sniffed the panda's cock at this point - and then he opened his beak. He thought it was a shame he had forgotten his beak guards, one-time use sex aids like condoms which covered the beak, giving it pleasant latex lips. Aetos could, with a small enough man, give decent head without a beak guard but he thought it unwise to risk it with Lars. And so he slopped his tongue across the panda's cock, lapping it like candy, dragging his tongue up the underside and prodding its tip below the foreskin where musk was more like a flavor than a scent.

"Ooh, you gonna like-," Lars considered, "uh, gimme a beakjob?"

Aetos laughed. "I don't want to hurt you. No. Sorry."

Aetos hoped Lars would not be disappointed. The last thing he wanted was to see rejection on that cute face of his. The panda was thankfully unruffled. "Oh, okay."

As Aetos returned to his loving laps, indulging himself and pleasuring the panda with his licks, Lars fondled his new friend. The swallow splayed himself out somewhat. He allowed his legs to part, scaly toes splayed and tailfeathers raised. His ass, round and dressed in the same birdfur as his chest, fell under Lars' purview like so. The smelly red panda clutched one of its cheeks in a greedy paw. Aetos softly cooed, giving a little positive reinforcement to let Lars know he was on the right track.

The bird grasped Lars' penis and pulled slowly toward the panda's groin. The foreskin glided over the glans, baring its plump mushroom-like shape to the air and consequently releasing a bit of its smell. Aetos licked indulgently over it and was entirely mindful of the panda's flavor and stench. His naked cock smelled of urine and poor hygiene; it delighted the degenerate bird. His own cock prodded into his shorts and made them tent. He moaned and wished so, so badly that he had brought a beak guard with him.

"You smell so good, hon," Aetos sighed. "I don't know if that's odd to say but you do. You smell so fine."

Lars slid his fingers up the leg of Aetos' shorts and managed to feel the bare curve of an ass cheek, fingers sliding through birdfur. "Thanks, yeah. Kahnso tells me I smell really gross. She smells my asshole."

Aetos perked. He was blushing and he knew it. "Oh, she smells you?" asked the bird, doing a piss-poor job of hiding his interest. "Is that-, ummm. Is that a thing you enjoy, or is it more for her?"

The red panda seemed to pick up on nothing. Aetos forced himself to remember that he was dealing with a simpleton. "She likes it, yeah. I mean. I do too, it's nice. I like having my butt licked."

The swallow nudged Lars' penis. He felt bad to abandon such a fine cock - but what could he really do to it that he hadn't already? Without a guard for his beak, he could give the panda only disappointment. On the other hand, eating ass was a pastime he could indulge in. He straightened up on his knees and looked back at Lars. "So, do you think you'd like it if I smelled you?"

Lars gained a canny smile which surprised Aetos. "I could sit on your face. I like doing that to her."

Aetos giggled. He was grateful for the panda saying it so he didn't have to. "If you want to. Yeah. Sit on me, Lars."

The bird laid back on the strange-smelling bed, not realizing as he did that he was lying in a spot where Kahnso had once pissed with a full bladder after achieving oblivion on whiskey. The sheets had been washed and the mattress sprayed with Febreeze, but the smell was still deep in the mattress.

He expected Lars to just sit right down. But the panda first tugged down the bird's shorts, springing his cock free. It waggled in the open air and a bead of precum ran down its dorsal side.

"Whoa, weird," Lars said like a child inspecting a big spider. "You have, like, a dick-pussy."

Aetos smirked, but blushed too. "Not familiar with cloacas, I'm guessing."

"Cloaca-Cola," Lars said, and snickered at his own razor wit. "Uh. No. Whatever." He climbed over Aetos - who was still groaning inside over Cloaca-Cola - and let his ass hang over the swallow's face. The round shape of Lars' bottom was a surprise to many. Most expected him to have a flat ass to go with his jutting ribs and rather gaunt face. But the panda had what Aetos considered a booty on him, the cheeks round and soft. He brought it down on Aetos' face with a speed that was neither fast or slow and his pink anus kissed up against the bird's beak.

The swallow shuddered as he got his first real whiff of the panda's anal musk. His smell was deep and heady, far more potent than the smell of his crotch had been. Aetos lapped across the ring; salty sweat greeted him. He went at the simple panda's fine ass vigorously, slurping him like he was candy, drinking his sweat, inhaling his stink.

The bird's cock throbbed and drizzled precum along its own shaft. Lars grabbed it without much thought. He never gave oral sex to men but he didn't think jerking someone off was bad, and he started to masturbate Aetos' strange, tapered bird cock with a casual paw.

Outside, the party went on without Kahnso. She came to the door and put her foot against it. Her heart was racing, eyes throbbing like grapes about to burst. The tangy marker-like flavor of PCP smoke was heavy on her breath and tongue. She had access to anything she wanted, a vast collection of uppers and downers, but PCP was her go-to when she needed to spike herself with some anger and energy. It got her on the warpath and it made her horny, two things she demanded of herself right now.

The vixen pushed on the door with all her weight and it creaked but held. Lars looked up at it, said, "Busy, go away."

Of course Kahnso knew Lars would never say that if he knew it was her. Her, who paid the bills, who bought the drugs. But Kahnso was not in the state of mind to acknowledge that his dismissal was a simple case of mistaken identity, that he was assuming she was just a guest trying to go somewhere they shouldn't.

Savage thoughts raced through her mind, more images than words. Picking Lars up by the ankles. Using him like a club to beat that faggot bird to death. Now the vixen kicked at the door with everything she had. She broke one of her toes and did not notice the pain. Lars looked up sharply and Aetos stopped his hungry licking, knowing immediately that something was very wrong. Even Lars' anus tensed.

The panda rolled hastily off of Aetos like a masturbating teenager hearing footsteps in the hall. "Uh oh," he said tonelessly.

The door flew open under the strength of one more kick. Its hinges shrieked as it flew inward and it banged into the wall with a noise not unlike a gunshot, the brass knob plowing into the plaster, creating a perfect knock-out of its diameter.

"Lars," she snarled, trudging in on lumbering feet. Eyes bloodshot, body naked, hair matted yet still attractive in a peculiar way. "Lars, you fucking retard. Go away? You're dead!"

"I didn't know it was you," the panda said, looking at her with a flat expression. "I'm sorry. Hey. Relax. Relax, okay?" He reached for her, touched her arm. "You want to smell me?"

"No!" Kahnso snapped, and Lars pulled away from her. His erection had turned entirely flaccid. "Get the fuck out. Go wash the toilet."

Lars frowned. Aetos had scrambled to the head of the bed to evade the vixen. He regarded her as exactly what she was right now: a dangerous animal. He thought the fear he was feeling - that metallic penny flavor squirting in his mouth, adrenaline plowing through his veins - was what a mailman or a cable installer must feel when busted fucking a customer's wife. His mind yammered at him (get out RUN) and his heart pounded, his cock softened and slipped back into his cloaca, and he pawed at the bed with hands which had grown very slippery and clammy.

Aetos forced himself to think that no, there was no danger, not for him, not at all; because Kahnso and Lars were open, weren't they, and she was only mad at the stupid panda, the stupid cute panda who had said the wrong thing.

Lars walked out of the room quickly, chin down and almost touching his breast. Kahnso walked after him and Aetos' heart downshifted to a more bearable pace. The vixen was leaving. The vixen had not acknowledged him at all; she had seen him, of course she had, but she had not noticed him. She had eyes only for Lars and his stupidity.

She paused in the doorway, looked out at the party which went on oblivious to the tantrum, and then closed the door. The latch snicked home into the bulged and splintered frame, just enough wood left for it to stand up to at least a curious push.

Aetos trembled. Alone with the monster like he had fallen into a horror movie. Kahnso turned and her ruby eyes fell on him like a pair of spotlights, bright and hateful. She approached the bed like a beast, body twitching in small, irregular ways, just beginning to favor her broken toe without really noticing its pain yet. To Aetos she looked almost like a stop-motion creature in an old film. She crawled onto the bed, neared him with long strides of arms and legs, moving in a mockery of sensuality. Her expression never changed and her eyes never blinked.

"You little son of a bitch. Didn't even ask if you could fuck him."

"He said-, he said-," Aetos chattered, beak clicking. Tears threatened in his eyes.

She loomed over him and Aetos was repulsed by her in every way imaginable. He was a gay bird, yes, but the female form did not arouse disgust in him, only disinterest. But Kahnso was pocked by bruises, bags nested permanently under her intense eyes, and he could smell the filth on her. On Lars it had been charming - Lars was an adorable fool and a handsome male besides. Kahnso was famous and powerful, as well as female. Sexist though it was, Aetos had higher standards for her and so the whiffs he got of her armpits were nauseating. He smelled the rancid musk of her vulva which pouted between her thighs like a thick black sponge. He tried not to think of how obnoxious her ass must be.

"Listen, you," she growled, and grabbed a fistful of shoulder. The bird loosed a shriek that was both shrill and musical; a death rattle in birdsong. "I don't care what Lars says, I'm the one who pays the bills." She wrenched down on the ball of his shoulder with meaty, long fingers. Cartilage squished in the joint with a sound like cabbage being crushed and split open.

The swallow, screaming, smacked his hands against her chest and shoulders. "Please,please!" he shrieked, his voice shrill and piercing. Kahnso grimaced with each syllable. "You're breaking it, please, let go!"

Kahnso scowled. She groped harder on the joint and the scream he shrilled in her face was worth the pain it caused her. Aetos grabbed her wrist, by then he was blubbering inarticulately. The vixen huffed, a grin spreading across her face, and she let go after what felt like minutes to Aetos. Whimpering in the trilling way of a bird, he clutched the ball of his shoulder and closed his eyes tightly.

The vixen knelt over him, still grinning, thinking - thinking of things to do with this little bird who had such a low tolerance for pain. Kahnso considered herself a bully, not a sadist, but the way the bird whined and writhed activated some barbaric part of her. She licked along her lips slowly, tongue detouring to curl around a fang. Aetos - not that she knew his name, and not that she cared - seemed like he could be fun.

"Stop crying," Kahnso said in a low warning tone, like a mother about to deliver a followup smack to staunch the tears brought on by the first. "I just squeezed your shoulder. Quit being a pussy about it."

"I have hollow bones," Aetos blubbered, but he was taking pains to control his sobbing. He forced open his eyes and looked at her nervously, feeling tiny and mousy under her ruby glare. "Birds have hollow bones. It's-, it's so we can be light enough to fly..."

Her eyes lit up, and so did her grin. "You can fly? Like, if I threw you off the balcony?"

The swallow recoiled. "No! I can't fly! My wings are-, well, they're just for show, it's a throwback." Aetos eyed her cautiously. His eyes were wet, gaze shimmering, but he didn't really want the vixen in focus. "Please don't hurt me."

Kahnso huffed. Her left eye twitched but she seemed unaware of it. "You eat pussy?"

Aetos' first instinct was to tell her no. The throb in his shoulder, which he believed had nearly come dislocated, dissuaded him. He managed a nod, then a few words. "Yeah. Yes I do. I-I don't do it often though. So, um, I'm out of practice."

Please oh please just let me out of your den in one piece you brutal woman, please.

Kahnso's paws grabbed for Aetos. Around his middle they went, thumbs digging into his gut with what seemed purposeful force. Aetos shuddered but resisted the urge to scream. Part of it was pride. But he knew the vixen was enjoying his misery, and that was what really drove him to silence.

She laid him on his back near the well-masked piss stain and climbed over him much as Lars had. He saw her tremendous heart-shaped ass coming down and smelled it before it felt it. In that area she smelled pretty good; almost as nice as Lars. Pretty good for a woman, he thought. Then the vixen shifted, bent herself. Her plump spade dragged against his beak like a pair of smooching lips sticky with some whorish gloss. The fishy stench of pussy filled Aetos' nostrils and he felt his stomach rushing up like a fist. He swallowed it down, kept it down, told himself if he gagged now she would kill him.

He held his breath and he started to lick. His tongue swabbed through the folds of her cunt, passing black flesh, digging into pink which became softer and hotter the further he went. Viscous wetness clung to her walls and Aetos tasted the musk of her box. It was tart and vile like a particularly strong cheese and the bird had to force his gut down again. He thought for sure that this was going to drive him mad. He could not hold down his stomach long enough to get her off - but what if he didn't have to? What if she expected him to fuck her? What then? Or suppose she squirted on his beak... and then he vomited. He did have a weak stomach. It was one of his failings.

"Go harder," she said, encouraging him, not commanding. That at least soothed Aetos, however slightly. Her nose bumped the vaguely vaginal slit of his cloaca and she said, "Cloaca, huh. Been a while since I had any of that. Cool if I dig in?"

"Yes. Yes, sure. Whatever you want," Aetos said as evenly as he could. If the vixen wanted to slop her tongue around his cloaca - well, that was fine by him. He could deal with that. Without her repulsive cunt trying to devour his beak like a blob monster from a half-remembered sci-fi gorefest, he might have enjoyed her prodding tongue and fingers inside his cloaca.

Kahnso wrenched open the slit of his cloaca cruelly. Aetos grimaced. Along the top and bottom of its slit, tiny tears began to split open the pink. She stretched him so wide that his delicate slit became an oblong diamond.

Her nose mashed into the pink. the hidden penis stayed stubbornly, fearfully put; she smelled him, nostrils flaring, inhaling petite bird musk. Her nose dragged lower, into the adjacent hole of his anus where his musk was more potent. She sniffed deep and hard, and then announced with a huff, "Your musk is pretty lame. Lars is better."

Aetos managed a weak smile. She was right about that; Lars was definitely better. His thoughts were on the panda now, the cute moron with the nice butt. The good smells. The big dick. He haltingly touched her hip and side, left arm falling short due to its throbbing shoulder.

"If you're gonna touch anything," she growled, "touch my tits. You twist my nipples and I'll break your fingers."

There went Aetos' smile. He cupped her right breast; his left arm would not cooperate. God, but his shoulder hurt. It brought to mind a trauma from years past. Walking to school in the early morning, a fledgling of twelve, Aetos had been clipped by a station wagon on a crosswalk. His right arm had been shattered and recovery, especially physical rehab, had been an agonizing and humbling period. Dredging up the memory was like exhuming a corpse, leaving Aetos with a feeling of abject disgust.

"Keep licking," she said to him. "And let's see if I can get your dick hard. I haven't had bird cock in a while."

Then and there, Aetos' life flashed before his eyes. He squeezed down on her breast, thinking this would be it, that he would not be able to perform. And then he'd fly off the balcony, perhaps. Land in the pool if he was lucky; land in the pool without water if he was particularly unlucky.

Aetos said quietly, shakily, "I-I should be honest with you." The vixen's thick, dark spade held the top of his beak and made speaking difficult. His speech had a drunk slur to it.

Her tongue swirled around the opening of his anus. Aetos shivered, moaned. He squeezed her titty; his left hand cupped her belly where the rows of teats lie. "I don't-, I don't like women. I'm gay."

Kahnso snorted into his cloaca. The rush of warm air was queerly stimulating and Aetos shivered again. "A faggot, huh?" Very slowly, putting menace into such a simple act, she straightened herself and dismounted his head. Her vulva left his beak shiny with clear slime. "What are you gonna do for me, then?"

The bird scrabbled up to a seated position. He cupped his genital area protectively. A tiny weep of blood issued from the bottom edge. "I-I'm not sure, I was fine with Lars, but I don't like women." He looked in her eyes, making at least an attempt to be assertive, but the murder in her ruby gaze dissuaded further looks. There was no assertion here. His body was small, his bones were like twigs to her. "I'm so, so sorry..."

She stroked her vulva slowly, as if rubbing her chin thoughtfully. Each time her fingers came away slick. "You're not getting Lars again," she said lowly. "So what's your deal, huh? Don't like pussy? You fuck ass?"

Aetos bristled. "I don't fuck anything! I'm a sub. I get fucked."

Kahnso grinned savagely, without humor. Aetos realized too late his aggressive tone was a mistake. "Oh, yeah, you're 'bout to get fucked, birdy," she snarled, looming between him and the light fixture like a thunderhead blotting out the sun. It haloed her body but her eyes seemed to gleam no matter what.

"Don't touch me," Aetos squawked, starting to cry, clutching his shoulder protectively. "Don't!"

The vixen snatched him with the vicious suddenness of a bear trap. Her fingers clamped down on his forearms like so many pincers and squeezed until flesh bruised and a trilling scream warbled out of Aetos' dark beak.

She pinned him down on the bed, snarling and laughing abhorrent, otherworldly noises. Aetos believed in his delirium of terror that she was a demon, that the red eyes were the most obvious of warnings. This trash woman was hellspawn and he was the hapless mortal.

"Let-, go! Let me GO!" Aetos screamed, the words erupting like tea kettle shrieks. In his terror he regressed to an almost childlike state and with it came the belief that if he made enough noise, an adult would come and rescue him. But the music was still thudding, and Kahnso's guests, most of them used to her parties, knew better than to come running when screaming echoed in her home.

The tweaking vixen showed her teeth in a malevolent smile. She dipped close and snapped her jaws, pinching birdfur on his chest, ripping it free with a tiny rending noise. Aetos squawked and babbled. He kicked her with strength he never knew he had. His claws raked into her gut, slashing through the dermis and opening ragged, bloody wounds.

The fox grunted a wounded but hateful sound. Her grin only widened, the pain just an aphrodisiac; her vulva throbbed like a second heart, dripping smelly, viscous discharge onto the bed like drool from a maw. "Fight me, fight back, fight back you fucking faggot!"

She squeezed his arms. Felt the pop of hollow bird bones fracturing. It gratified her; it sent sadistic pleasure rushing through her, better than a hit of any drug. She groaned and snapped at him again. Her teeth found minimal purchase on his shoulder and slashed through the uppermost layers of skin below the fur. Aetos screamed again, screamed louder than he ever had in his life, but the music buried his plaintive screeches. He tried to kick her but she only moved closer, putting herself too close to be snagged by his claws.

"Bitch! Fucking psycho bitch! Let go!" Aetos wailed, the tears spilling from his eyes in streams. "You're gonna kill me, you're killing me! STOP!"

Kahnso straddled him. She mashed the fat, vulgar lips of her spade against his dormant genital slit and she began to hump him. She heaved hot breath in his face; he smelled a bad tooth somewhere in her mouth and the stench nauseated him. He bucked under her, whimpering, thrashing. Exquisite pain filled his arms which felt as if they were full of so many needles shifting and digging at vulnerable flesh. He found himself hoping he would go into shock - or that his heart would stop dead cold.

"Faggot, fucking faggot," Kahnso breathed, words deep and guttural. Her spade smeared and leaked against his crotch, making him repulsively wet, bending his thin down into tiny cowlicks. She licked his beak and that to Aetos was somehow worse than biting or beating because it was so intimate. So gentle. It was something Lars might have done and he would have enjoyed it.

A terrible thing began to happen to Aetos. The warmth of her cunt against his slit was a coaxing, arousing feeling; a simple massage or a loving tongue would have elicited the same dumb response. His penis began to emerge from the sore lips and Kahnso, in her idiot, bestial humping, smeared and crushed it with her spade. She coaxed it further out and Aetos whimpered to her. He said in the helpless tones of a rape victim both terrified and defeated, "Oh god please no, you're making me hard, please no, please!"

"I am!" Kahnso said, almost gleeful with the realization. "Maybe you aren't such a fucking faggot after all. Maybe." With the indignity came a mercy; she let go of his arms and Aetos folded them at once. He massaged his forearms, wincing, not realizing the bones had fractured and the pain he felt was more than just bruising.

The vixen's paws slammed into the bed and she held her weight with them. Her grinds only worsened; she engulfed Aetos' struggling pink cock in her deep, dark spade and the bird shrieked a cry, albeit one weaker, more resigned than his previous cries.

"Please, don't rape me," he blubbered, and pawed at her shoulders, tried to push her off. "Please. Please... stop..."

Aetos had heard of men being raped in this fashion. He had never doubted a rape victim before but he had always found it curious, at the very least. But now he understood. He understood entirely how his body's own stupid desires could be used against him. His cock emerged hungry and strong, thick bird meat entering into the passage of Kahnso's vagina. Aetos blubbered and his erection pulsated.

The vixen, grinning like the demon Aetos imagined her to be, fucked herself on his willing cock. She licked his beak, tongue trailing all over it, lapping up tears too. "Quit the whining," she hissed. "You're getting pussy. You're getting the best fuckin' pussy you'll ever get. Quit acting like you're some faggot."

"I am a faggot, you heartless cunt," Aetos wailed, and he grabbed suddenly, hatefully for her face. His thumbs raked into her eyes. One of his claws caught in the corner, ripping open a thin line from her tear duct to the bridge of her muzzle.

Kahnso screamed in hate and fury. She ripped back her head from the swallow's reach and she grabbed his arm, the very same she had abused earlier by nearly dislocating the shoulder. "Teach you to put fucking hands on me, take your lumps, take your fuckin' lumps!" With her monstrous grip on his arm, she yanked it outward as if trying to tear it clean off. There came a wet cleaving sound muffled by skin and feathers as the joint split open like a cracked nut. Cataclysmic pain filled Aetos' world and he screamed outside of Kahnso's range of hearing which years of loud music had dulled to less than keen perception.

His vision doubled and trebled. Kahnso yanked again and the joint, already broken and spilling its fluid into the tissue, disintegrated into chunks as if crushed by a hammer. Aetos lost control of his bladder and his urine splashed from his rapidly faltering erection, wetting Kahnso's loins. He uttered a tiny, young cry and then collapsed against the bed, stiff as a corpse, eyes open wide.

Aetos swam in shock. It was the car accident all over again. Screeching tires, that smell of scorched rubber. The station wagon careening towards him. He realized the exquisite recall he had of the moment now. He saw the hood ornament, a tiny silver horse rearing mightily. He saw bugs splattered across the grille; junebugs, given the time of year.

The crash. His bones shattering like kindling, the rush of world-ending pain. He voided himself into his shorts and that was his final memory before he succumbed to the incredibly fast onset of shock and unconsciousness. When he awoke hours later in a hospital bed, mother and father and brothers and sisters standing over him with grief in their eyes, he had been entirely free of pain. Morphine filled his veins then. He saw beaks move. Saw the old, gray wolf who was the nurse flap her jaws. Heard nothing. Gentle touches, rubs of beaks - bird kisses. And then asleep again.

His eyelids fluttered open. A sense of loss filled him like premonition, like a sixth sense of grief telling him a family member had died. But the feeling was for himself, himself alone, because his mind was stupidly numbed. Like a toddler, he could conceive only of himself. He was injured. The car accident-

His shoulder. He looked at it. In the dim light it was a dark mass, edema from his obliterated joint making his arm resemble a constrictor with a fat meal in its gullet. In the haze of morphine he could look at it without nausea, only black fascination at what had become of his body. Tatters of memory remained of the night before. Aetos remembered most of all Lars, the cute panda, stupid but cute, and then... and then...

The vixen, the singer, the exalted celebrity. The vixen, the station wagon, it all melted together in his hazy thoughts. His eyelids fluttered over his bloodshot eyes. He was aware, only dimly, of an ache in his destroyed shoulder. Morphine, definitely morphine; nothing else could turn such a horrible injury into a minor ache.

The door opened gently. Aetos thought it must be her. The vixen, Kahnso. Coming to finish what she started. He kept his eyes closed as if wishfully thinking she could not see him if he could not see her.

Someone sat on the bed. Gently, "Hey. Hey, you awake? You need to, like, drink something."

Aetos forced open his eyes at the sound of Lars' voice. The panda looked tired with deep circles under his eyes. His gaunt body was nude but there seemed to be no sex on his mind. He nudged the bird. "Wake up. I got water."

The swallow tongued the inside of his beak and realized just how dry he was. He tried to ask Lars the typical questions (where am I? how long was I out? can I go to the hospital?) but his tongue was thick and leathery. He managed a nod.

Lars helped the bird to sit up. He propped Aetos up with his arm; the bird's body was light and the biggest obstacle was his limp, drugged form. "Open up," he said with sweet gentleness. Aetos did and Lars poured the water into his open beak. Much splashed onto the bird's chest, but Aetos swallowed a reasonable amount.

"Is that good? You want more?" Lars asked, still holding up the bird. His green eyes fell on the bulging shoulder and he felt brief, morbid fascination. He wanted to prod at it.

Then he thought of something else. Hearing his obese, abusive father screaming and cussing about the worst migraine he'd ever had. Then the thump like a big sack of potatoes spilling across the floor. Coming in, seeing his supine body in the process of pissing itself, his fairly handsome face paralyzed into an almost comical grimace. And it had been the eyes that had bothered Lars so much, that had offended the gently retarded boy in such an awful way. Dad's big green eyes, one pupil shrunken to a singularity of black, the other so massive it seemed it would spill over the iris like an inky blob.

"Lars?" Aetos asked, not for the first time. "Lars, please..."

The panda came out of his reverie as if he had simply been paused. The stroked-out body of his father vanished from his thoughts. He looked away from the bird's ruined arm.

"You want some more water?"

"Yes," Aetos said softly. "And-, and maybe food?"

Lars had nodded. He had then gone and gotten more water and some day-old cold pizza which was better than nothing. Eating anything crusty with a beak was difficult but Lars helped him break it into bites he could manage.

Fed and hydrated, Aetos began to feel dozy again. The morphine was still strong in his body; he had no tolerance for it.

Before he slipped under again, Aetos asked, "Can you get me a doctor?"

And Lars said, "Um, I should ask her first." But the swallow was already out again.

It was the middle of the afternoon when Aetos awoke again. His ruined shoulder was a throbbing, angry mass. Old tears streaked his cheeks. Urine stained his thighs, turning white fluff into yellow snow.

The swallow tried to move from the bed, but the instant his shoulder was disturbed it shot warning bolts of pain up his arm and neck. He gasped, whimpered. "Oh no," he whined, pawing at the bed with his good arm. "Oh, no, oh no."

He felt around but found only loose fur and crumbs. He was thirsty but that concern was somewhere towards the back of his mind. Here and now was his fight-or-flight response, the realization that he was in excruciating agony and could only depend on himself. The panda might do the right thing, he thought, but not with the vixen in the way.

"Please, god, help me," Aetos blubbered, and he grabbed his bad arm. He snapped his beak shut and he rolled onto his side. Pain exploded in his arm and his eyes filled with tears. His world started to fade and he laid still, letting the pain die back, waiting until he could stomach the shock again.

Aetos lurched for the edge of the bed. His shoulder screamed inside of him. Fluid shifted around the joint, broken nerves and jagged bone playing a cacophonous tune of pain like he had never felt before. He never realized he was muttering under his breath, talking about the station wagon and the morphine. Dribbles of urine fell from his cloaca as if it were crying.

The edge of the bed. Feet on the floor. He realized he could not push himself up and brace his arm at the same time, and then he thought he would expire like this: sitting on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor. Looking the same way he did on the pot.

He tried to stand but his legs wobbled as though his muscles had liquefied. He thought about astronauts losing their bone density in space and wondered just how long he had been lying in bed.

"Lars, please, Lars help me," he whined, and he let go of his bad arm, allowing it to fall. The pain was sudden and severe, a punishment like no other, and he screamed. There was no birdsong quality to this noise; it was bellowing and ugly. He gripped the bed and he shoved himself up, managing to get his feet and to stop himself from careening drunkenly forward.

The blubbering bird, arm dangling and swinging like a pendulum, staggered towards the door in a fine impression of the living dead. His scaly hand slapped on the knob and he turned it, and it did not shift. He thought frantically it was locked, they had locked him in to die, and he-

Turned it the other way and it gave a soft rattle as it disengaged. He staggered back, opened the door. The sprawling home was empty. Even the aftermath of the party was absent. Angry summer sun beat in through the windows but the home was air conditioned and very pleasant.

Aetos walked, stumbling, daring not to touch his arm. He stopped in a hall and caught his breath, leaning all his weight against the wall. He was dribbling again, his body squeezing out what little urine it had to give.

"Lars," he wheezed. "Help me, Lars."

He stumbled on. The house was vast, the bird disoriented and terrified, mind dulled by pain. He wandered past the den. Came to stairs going up and eyed them like a mountaineer sizing up Kilimanjaro for the first time in person. He could not do stairs. Not now, not like this. An image of his body tumbling down from the top step played in his mind. He passed the stairs while eyeing them as if they were a dangerous animal.

Aetos found himself in the kitchen and he leaned on the island counter, feeling the urge to vomit, so severe was the pain. That was when he saw the phone. Her phone, Lars' phone, it didn't matter. He grabbed it, fingers quivering, and dropped it on the counter top. Grabbed it again, swearing softly, also praying, thanking god for this.

But the lock screen of the phone confounded him. He tried to swipe any way he could across the dots but each time the phone simply denied him. He began to whimper, to cry, as he tried again and again. For a moment he even forgot about his ruined arm.

"How the fuck did you get out here?"

Kahnso behind him, scaring him so badly he dropped the phone. It clattered off the counter and thudded against the floor with a flat clap.

"Please, just let me go to a hospital," Aetos whined. "Let me go and I'll never-, never tell anybody, ever, I just got hit by a car, I got hit by a station wagon..."

The vixen, sober and dressed in pants only, touched Aetos' good shoulder. The bird shrilled and flinched but she held him fast.

"I'll get you some help. Hold on. Just hold on." She led him off, walking him slowly but with a twinge of irritation. "I was just coming to get you. How the fuck did you get out of bed with that arm?"

Aetos let himself be led into the bedroom again. It had begun to feel like a tomb but the bird was so defeated that he allowed the vixen to guide him. "I didn't want to die in here," he said lowly.

Kahnso snickered. She helped him to lie down, even shushing him when he wailed about his arm. Then she stepped out, leaving the door open. After a few moments, just long enough that the swallow began to fear abandonment, she returned with a small leather bag.

The swallow watched her work. She had a needle in a blister pack and a small brown vial with a measure of liquid inside. She stuck the needle through the fabric cap and drew back the plunger, filling the syringe with a colorless fluid.

"I'm gonna give you a lil' bit extra," she murmured. She pushed the plunger, evacuated the air and spurt of the fluid. "You'll sleep like a log."

"But-, but the hospital," Aetos said in a tiny voice.

"No, no hospital. Hospitals ask too many questions." She moved in close. Palmed his thigh, began to part his piss-stained fur. "Let's see, femoral artery, somewhere around in here..."

The bird closed his eyes. Of all the things that did bother him, needle injections were not among them. They never had been. He felt the prick of the needle and he huffed. Then it was over. Something ice-cold was in his veins. The familiar drip after the station wagon, concentrated like a hailstone.

"I know someone, I'll have them look you over. You'll be fine. Just like new," Kahnso said, but her words seemed to be slurring, growing long like shadows in the afternoon. The morphine hit his heart and disseminated into his body, radiating like a beautiful, cold star.

"You'll be just fine," she said, and she plunged the needle into her own arm. Half for the patient, half for the doctor. The morphine flooded her bloodstream and she shimmied out of her jeans, preferring to sleep nude. She nuzzled up to Aetos. The bird was already in the process of dying. His breathing was too shallow to support his body. His heart began to flutter and palpitate. Hypoxia was rapidly setting in and his brain began to shut down, brain tissue soon to starve and die.

"Just fine," Kahnso burbled, and sunk into nearly comatose sleep.

Four hours later, Lars stumbled into the room in a state of advanced drunkenness. A nearly drained bottle of whiskey hung in his fingers like a rag doll carried by a little girl. Droplets of urine dribbled from his puckered foreskin. He closed in on Kahnso and his knees bumped the bed, sending him tipping into the mattress. The bottle fell from his tenuous grip and thumped against the carpeted floor.

"Pussy, pussy," the panda slurred, pulling himself up on the bed, using his arms like he was an ape. He hooked a foot on the mattress and hauled himself higher. Then he climbed over Kahnso, pulling her possessively away from Aetos. He masturbated, palming his limp cock, trying to work it hard. He fingered her thick black vulva, spread its lips, smelled its vulgar pink. The stink was good but his penis was uncooperative.

"Birdy, bird," Lars burbled. He pawed at Aetos, batting his beak. The bird's head stiffly bobbed like a roadsign in a harsh gust. "He-e-ey, birdy, lick my asshole again," said the idiot panda. Drool dribbled from his chin. His eyes were huge, vacuous voids. He palmed Aetos' crotch, felt over his crotch slit (pussy-pussy birdpussy) and found urine gumming the downy fuzz. The bird was cold and stiff and Lars realized with a shriek that was almost girly that Aetos was gone, he was stiff and dead the same way dad had turned after a few hours, during which Lars had sat next to him crying and pondering how to wake his old man up.

He rocked back from Aetos and his bony knee drove into the pit of Kahnso's gut. The fox grunted, mumbled, and lashed out with a heavy, clumsy blow against Lars' face. The drunk panda's vision exploded into brilliant starbursts and blood jetted from his nostrils. He flopped back on the mattress, landing without a sound.

"Fuggin' 'tard," Kahnso groused. She pulled herself up to a seated position. She looked at Lars, bleeding silently on the mattress, pawing at his nose and looking distressed. Hardly any surprise there; Lars was a moron and tended to be vexed by things as simple as shoelaces. She ignored his worried face and put a paw on Aetos' good shoulder. "Bird-" she said, and then ripped back her paw as if scalded. "Oh, shit!"

"He's dead," Lars bleated, shocked out of the worst of his stupor by the realization he had been fondling a corpse. Being cold-cocked by Kahnso helped.

She shot a glare at the panda. Lars, whose blood was just beginning to clot in his nostrils, wilted back.

"God dammit," Kahnso hissed. "We gotta do something with him."

Lars knelt close by. He pressed his luck by putting himself in arm's reach. Ducking his head somewhat submissively, he said, "Maybe we can bury him?"

She glared again. "Bury him! Fucking where? In the yard? We have to get rid of him, you moron. We gotta... we gotta destroy him. Something like that." She rubbed at her temples, huffing. Morphine migraines, every single time. As bad as a hangover, at least without the nausea in her case.

The red panda touched Aetos haltingly on the chest. Kahnso watched him, her eyeballs following the movements of his paw in small, sharp movements. Eventually she growled, "Quit petting him, would you?"

"I just feel bad," Lars mumbled. "He was nice. He licked my butthole and smelled it too."

She socked him on the shoulder. He winced but didn't hold it. Savagely, "You saying when I die, you're gonna be sad just because I can't lick and smell your asshole anymore?"

"No!" Lars protested, and the vixen smacked him on the back of the head. Lars flinched, frowned, and settled back down. He looked at Aetos closely, thinking about what had happened to his dad. Eventually he had had the idea to call 911, and when he told them his daddy was cold and not moving, they sent an ambulance. They came with flashing lights and sirens. They left with neither, only the dull blat of a diesel engine marking the departure of his father. The state had handled his father's funeral and burial, and Lars had gone into foster care.

He wanted to just call 911. Tell them his bird was cold and not moving and let them come with their lights and sirens, then leave silently. Even Lars, as challenged as he was, knew nothing so simple could happen now.

Kahnso muscled him off the bed. He moved without comment and watched with dull interest as she hauled Aetos to the edge of the bed. His broken shoulder made a dry scraping noise like a pepper grinder as pressure was put upon it.

"Get a blanket," the vixen said. Lars did not immediately move and the vixen snapped, "Get a blanket fucking now, Lars! Do what you're told!"

Lars did not flinch. He went into the hallway and opened the linen closet. Mostly it held an assortment of junk, odds and ends indicative of a lazy hoarder. There were some towels and blankets. Lars grabbed a spartan brown blanket with a good thick pile and brought it back into the bedroom.

The vixen laid it on the floor, mostly flat. With Lars' help, him holding the ankles and Kahnso holding the shoulders, they set the swallow's stiff body down in the blanket. Lars was revolted by the coldness of the bird's scaly feet; he wanted badly to let go and leave the room, but out of some respect, some minor puppylove once felt for the bird, he set Aetos' feet down gently. Kahnso simply dropped him and he thudded against the carpet with a dull whack.

The panda frowned. "Be nice."

"Shut up, or I'm killing you too," Kahnso snapped. "I do not need your emotionally-stunted bullshit right now, Lars. You're a fucking crackhead rapist, don't even act like you're better than me."

Lars huffed. He folded his arms petulantly, but said nothing. That still wasn't enough for Kahnso. She stepped over Aetos and snatched up a fistful of the panda's hair, a bicep in the other paw. Close to his face, snarling hideously with eyes so busy with veins they looked like road maps, Kahnso warned, "Drop the fucking attitude, Lars. You fuck with me one more time about this and I'll fucking shoot you."

The panda looked at her stupidly, with something approaching nervousness in his eyes. He held his paws up, fingers splayed. "I'm sorry," he said, voice small. "I love you."

"You-, what? Shut the fuck up, you moron," Kahnso grunted. "Just shut your mouth. Be good and I'll buy you McDonald's or something." She let go of him, thrusting him back a few paces, and turned to the bird. "Jesus Christ. Why's my day gotta suck like this?"

Silent in his childlike judgment but obedient to the vixen, Lars helped her roll up the bird as if he were a giant blunt. They loaded him into the vixen's black SUV like a Christmas tree fresh off the lot. Lars was dismayed to find the bird was too stiff to bend to fit in the cargo area. Kahnso sharply shoved the bird by his ankles until his legs folded; his pelvis shattered with a muffled popping sound like distant gunfire. Lars turned and vomited in the driveway at the sound.

"You're such a pussy," the vixen hissed. "He's fucking dead. I mean, what do you think is gonna happen to him in the dump?"

"I don't wanna think about it," Lars groused.

Now the vixen started to grin. She closed the rear door with a bang and loomed in front of the panda. "They're gonna cover him with trash and bulldoze him in."

"I don't want to think about that!" Lars screamed, his cry cutting the night air like a thunderclap. Screaming and even gunshots were no rare occurrence at Kahnso's mansion; her neighbors were hardly responsible people themselves. Most of the neighborhood was musicians with penchants for life in excess. One party tended to bleed into the next, as far as those things went.

Kahnso grabbed him suddenly in heavy paws. She pulled him close and, to the panda's surprise, she squeezed him. It was nearly a bearhug, making his ribs pop, but still he leaned into her and he allowed himself to take the comfort.

"All right. I'm sorry You made your point, okay? I'm sorry. Hey, do you want to stay home while I do this?" She nuzzled the top of his head - he was tall, but she was tall enough to lay her chin comfortably on his crown. "Let's just do that. You stay here. Go smoke up, relax, don't think about him."

Lars snuffled against her neck. He nodded softly. "Yeah. Please."

The vixen eased back. She smiled with surprising sweetness and kissed him between the eyes. "It's a shame, it really is, he was a good bird. But it's him or me, Lars, and you need me, don't you?"

He avoided her eyes. "Yeah," he mumbled.

"Yeah, you need me. I pay for everything and you love me. You said so."

"Yeah," Lars agreed, and wished he had never said it.

She smooched him again - on the lips now - and sent him inside with the gentle sweetness of a mother making amends after punishment. She got up into her SUV. The gatehouse guard, a somewhat lazy-eyed Great Dane with very gray fur, let her through without incident. She drove for the better part of an hour and a half, following her GPS to the landfill. It was recessed far back from a country road. No guardhouse, no cameras, no fences. Nothing to stop hobos from picking, nothing to stop illicit midnight dumps.

She backed up to the edge of the massive landfill and sprung open the rear door. She dragged out Aetos' crumpled and moveless body and held it like a man would hold his new blushing bride. "Fuckin' bird, make me waste my night doing this bullshit," Kahnso huffed, stepping gingerly through trash, around old appliances lying rusted and inert like ancient skeletons, through things which squished and smelled rank and were thankfully impossible to see in the dark. "Can't hold your morphine, I guess, can you? Couldn't even get it up when I told you to. Fucking bird. Stupid fuckin' bird."

About forty feet into the mountains of trash, Kahnso inelegantly dropped the bird's light body. It fell against rupturing trash bags full of putrefying household waste. The smell hit Kahnso, made her gag and pinch the neck of her shirt over her nose like a bandanna. "Fuck," she hissed. "At least you'll blend in here. Shit." She used her phone as a makeshift flashlight and pulled some of the least-objectionable pieces of rubbish over the bird's wrapped corpse. Some cushions; a rusty spring mesh from a burned-up mattress; a few bags of trash which had not yet spilled entirely open.

She went back to the SUV without so much as another look back. She wiped her feet clean of whatever muck she had planted them in using napkins from the glove compartment. On her way home, she stopped for fast food.

The panda cried for a while. He smoked some meth, followed it with a little bit of crack to even things out, and then he cried a bit more. The bird was sweet and cute; he had been fun. It was unfair. And then she had been so mean to him. He loved her, he did, because he did not know better and understood only a rough, domineering touch as a show of love. His love for her kept him from calling 911. He didn't want to be alone again.

When she came home he was watching television without paying attention to it, the drugs in his system keeping him awake and anxious and remorseful. He was happy to have company again. He hugged her even though she smelled like garbage. They had a late fast food dinner and then they had anal sex on the couch. Lars got to be on top.

By the time Lars had his orgasm, he had all but pushed Aetos out of his mind.

The next morning, Aetos' abused body was bulldozed into the pile to be entombed in trash forever. The missing persons case his siblings filed months later started on a cold trail; in the decades to come they all had their theories. One of his brothers came the closest to the truth, believing he had had a run-in with a violent stranger and met a bad end as a result. None of them ever knew the truth about their baby brother.