Slimeball
(Content warning: I decided not to put a "Watersports" tag on this, because the "water" is a plot element separate from the yiff. If you were turned off by this story, and wish you were warned, please leave a comment, and I will put the tag on.)
Slimeball
"Hey Slimeball," teased the microphone on the far wall, "you've got another apprentice."
The bobcat, currently fixing a daughterboard of a controller card on the opposite wall, slid the circuit back carefully into its housing and jogged the 45 feet to the panel which spoke. He unsealed the speaker panel, pulled open the thin metal door, and pushed the talk button.
"Who is it this time, Jack?" he asked with light-hearted but sarcastic tone.
"Some kit, says he's the son of some manager in the City Water Office."
He assumed that everyone else would spend this New Year's Day asleep instead of crawling around in as filthy a place as he occupied. Getting another "appretice" to train today was absurd.
"Ha ha, wow," laughed the bobcat twice, "what the hell'd he do?"
But the answer was given by a much youger voice, probably 20 years younger. "I volunteered, sir," it sternly replied.
"Is that you kit?" wryly replied the aging bobcat, "no 'sir' to me, just call me 'slimeball'. It's my nickname, and damn well earned, too! Now Jack, if this one's gonna be useful to me, get him suited up and in here in 10 minutes."
"Right, slimeball," came the reply, just before the speaker clicked off.
Kevin Bryant resumed his work, waiting for his new "apprentice" to come in. He'd gone through so many he'd lost count; all of them lasted one day with good reason. Besides, he was just as glad; he preferred to work alone. He hated how some manager was always sending someone down to the filthy concrete resevoir for punishment.
But when he took a moment to reflect upon it, he realized this one might be different: he volunteered. Impossible, thought Kevin, he couldn't have. He must be lying.
As he examined the second daughterboard on the card and found a burned transistor, he heard the thick entry door unseal and creak open. He looked down the long room to see a young jaguar emerge from the doorway, nose just as wrinkled as any who came through. The door slammed as he looked around nervously.
Kevin waved him over. As his spotted apprentice approached, sealed rubber boots squeaking slightly on the concrete, Kevin spoke first. "So, you must be the new kit," he asserted with a caustic but gentle tone. "I take it your punishment is temporary?"
"I told you Mr. Bryant," replied the youngster, an inch or two taller than the far grayer bobcat, "I volunteered."
"I told you, it's Slimeball. And nobody volunteers to clean the piss off the city's biggest chamber pot," Kevin replied caustically.
"You did," replied the jaguar calmly, his blue eyes locking with Kevin's.
The idea the jaguar knew this gave Kevin a momentary shock. It made him become wary of what else the kit might know about him, like the secret reason he had held this job for so long without complaint.
"What'd you say your name was?" he snarled, trying to change the subject.
"James Cobourne," he replied calmly.
"Okay, James, let's get to work. The basics: d'you know how deep this place is?"
The jaguar looked up at the ceiling "10 feet?"
"12. Now, do you know how far it is down to that wall," he asked, pointing down the long row of floor grills, 5-foot-wide input pipes, sealed wall boxes, and bright ceiling-mounted bulbs.
"Uh, probably 500 feet?"
"300. Now, d'you know how many moving parts there are in this giant piss pot?"
James looked around, apparently counting boxes. "One -- for every pipe?" "Five per pair, one for both sides: the detector switch, door motor, control box, filter, and intercomm. Not to mention the damn reflectors and bulbs, which are replaced only for my benefit."
Kevin was still growling to himself about the jaguar's bureaucratic insights. He decided to test him.
"Now, kit, get back over there, and put the cover on that intercom panel. And do it, so it's water tight. Come back and tell me when you're done."
As James walked away, Kevin pressed his focus back onto the loose transistor he was in the middle of replacing. He plugged the soldering gun into the board's disconnected power supply, and pulled a new transistor out of his toolbox.
It would take several minutes for it to warm up, and until then he couldn't help pondering how the kit would know about him -- or at the very least, why he would bother to check. Was this some sort of manageral maneuver? Was the kit going to apply some sort of pressure at daddy's request? He couldn't let that happen.
"Done!" came a shout across the enclosure, reverberating up and down the long tunnel.
"Alright, lemme come over there and check it!" he called back.
He snapped the daughter board back into place, and sauntered over slowly. Even from 10 feet away, he could see a job well done -- with one mistake.
"Good, kit," he complimented upon his arrival, wanting to knock him down a notch, "except one thing: the seal is cracked." He piled the rubber seal off once again. "See this?" he asked, pointing to a small imperfection in the gasket.
The younger cat simply nodded, showing no great emotion.
"Now, I'll give you one more chance: go down the row of intercomm panels, and check all the gaskets, but c'mere first and get about a couple new ones."
James followed Kevin back to his large toolbox, made of thick plastic, vaccum-formed as one piece except for the hinge.
As Kevin bent down to open it, James asked again, "why did you take this job?"
Kevin grimmaced, as he realized James would probably not leave him alone until he got an answer. So, he decided to give the cynical, but socially acceptable, answer.
"Simple, kit. Now don't tell your daddy about this, mind you, or he'll give me hell."
He waited until he got James's nod in response before continuing.
"D'you know who has the most power in any organization? I don't mean to get things done; I'm talking about real power: power to stop things from getting done."
James thought for a moment, and then smiled. "The janitors," he answered, "because no one can stand a clean office."
"Very good," Kevin complimented, smile becoming genuine for the first time.
A glimmer in James's eye when he had answered made the bobcat realize hew as in the midst of a kindred spirit. "You sure being cynical at your age is a good idea?" he asked wryly, "I'd enjoy life first, and wait to became a proper cynic until it belts me harder. How old are you, anyway, kit?"
"Twenty two. My father taught me to be cynical, with a little help from some management training."
"Yeah, that'd do it," the bobcat replied gently, closing up -- and replacing the gasket on -- the panel of the controller board. "Now go do those gaskets."
"One more question?" James asked.
Kevin sighed. "The last one," he growled, fearing this one might also get to what he didn't want to talk about.
"What happened to your gloves?" he asked in a rather level tone, flexing his hands in his own and making them squeak.
"Wet rubber holds charges, so I can't replace circuits with 'em on. Also, it hampers my dexterity too much." He failed to mention that he never used them. "Now get going," Kevin growled, injecting a note of false irritation in his voice.
As James began his work, Kevin continued down the line, checking all boards in the controllers with a small multi-meter. He began to wonder about the kit; becoming a cynic at age 20 must be terrible. Approaching 70, he saw it as inevitable with what little he had left in his ability to enjoy life; but 20, to him, was rather remarkable.
He almost shorted out a capacitor by measuring current at the wrong points, thinking about the kit for too long. He wished he were that young again; he might try chasing him. He'd always had a thing for spots, he reflected.
But before his mind got too far down that road, he heard the boots of James echoing closer and closer.
"Done already?" Kevin asked in surprise.
"Only one had a crack. It appears someone is really taking care of those things," he remarked, mimmicing Kevin's smile.
"Thanks, kit," he replied, "but I'm afraid I can't reward you. You decided to volunteer on our yearly maintainence, which means the biofilm has to be changed out."
He knew this would require gloves, so he made a point to look for them in the ten pockets of the jumpsuit. "Gloves, gloves, gloves... damn, where did I put those things... oh well, you'll just have to do the hard part."
"You knew I was coming, didn't you?" he asked.
"Good guess," Kevin lied, wanting to make the jaguar forget about the gloves. "Anyway kit, we start at the beginning."
They walked down to the near end of the tank by the door, Kevin carrying his heavy toolbox. Only now did he not only notice that the jaguar's nose was unwrinkled, but that his eyes were sharp, and a color of brown that resembled a well-faded yellow.
They walked over to the first floor grill, and at Kevin's instructions, James picked up the hand-hold, turned it 90 degrees, and pulled. It revealed not a simple cover, but what appeared to be a 3-foot long screw with wide threads, coated with a brown goo.
It being half as tall as he was, it took most of the 20-year-old's strength to lift it, and he dropped it on its side with an echoing bang, causing some of the crusty brown gunk to fall on the concrete.
"Hey!" shouted the bobcat, as he rushed over to help lift, "upright! Put it upright!"
The shout made James do as instructed with the remainder of his might, as Kevin aided.
"Good," sighed the bobcat, when they had it down, "you'll damage the things otherwise."
"What is this thing?" asked James, recoiling from its renewal of a musty smell.
"This, kit, is the filter. Piss goes all around this spiral, giving it plenty of time to slowly run through, and the biofilm cleans it up. It's a hell of a lot cheaper than what they use for sewage. Anyway, this is crusty, it's dead, so you've gotta scrape it all off, and put it in this sack," he directed, getting a quart-sized plastic bag and a paint scraper out of his toolbox.
James did as he was told, scratching the brown goo first off of the concrete floor, and then slowly grinding his way around the plastic spiral. It took him all of five minutes to get every last dot of brown off, after which Kevin got out a small bag of lighter-brown powder and started dusting it on, having James tilt the filter as he went around it. That took just one minute.
"Good job, kit. One down, fourteen one to go."
They moved on, using one bag of powder for each drill bit, and James was careful in the future to put it down level to avoid the problem before.
After five of them, Kevin knew James was tired from his breathing. "Just take your time, kit," he advised, "we don't have a schedule today."
But as James was scraping off the spiral, Kevin was deftly contradicted. The lights turned from white to yellow, and a buzzer sounded.
"Shakallah!" shouted Kevin over the noise, "run! Run! Get to the door! Now! Go! Go! Go!!"
It took the second 'go' for James to get to his feet and start sprinting. Kevin quickly scraped off what was left, and splashed powder around as fast as he could, counting the buzzes, two seconds apart. It was a countdown to the flood.
"Four," he mumbled, "three... two..."
He got the powder on, good enough for his own opinion, and crammed the thing back in the hole and twisted it on as the tenth buzz echoed around the room.
He could hear the pipes grinding open as he sealed his toolbox, which was water-tight for just this reason. As the buzzes continued, he saw James loose his balance as yellow water started rushing from the pipes on his left and right. He got back to his feet as quickly as he could, seeming close to the door, but Kevin couldn't tell if he would make it.
The bobcat just watched the water level at a distance, ignoring it as his ankles, staring at the tiny black square on the side of the door's raised platform. As the alarm continued, the water line crept up the stairs, inch by inch, as the sweet and bitter smell got stronger.
Just as James dashed up the stairs, however, it touched the sensor level with the door's frame. The alarm stopped, and Kevin saw the jaguar pushing on the door with all his might. He sighed, knowing the system had just locked it from the outside.
Kevin jogged in goose steps toward James, being unable to run in the water approaching his knees. The jaguar was standing on the two-foot platform in horror, like someone on their roof watching a river flood their house.
It seemed so hard to get to him, more water gushing in every second. Panting and out of breath, Kevin got to the platform stairway out of breath, and grabbed two oxygen tanks on the wall beside the door. Wordlessly, he handed one to James, and slung the other down the back of his suit.
"I hope you didn't wear any clothes today you ever want to wear again," grunted Kevin.
The jaguar just stared at the rising water, as it covered the top of his boots.
"You're gonna be okay, kit," reassured Kevin, "just try to relax. Push this, here on the nozzle, to prime it, and then you can breathe. Okay?"
James nodded, eyes glazing over as he just watched the water rise to his ankles, still gushing from the pipes on the walls, though under less pressure now.
"Just think of it as a pool," Kevin continued, "we're going for a swim in a big, underground pool. Know how to swim?"
"Yeah, but it's a pool full of p--"
"Don't say that," snapped the bobcat. "That word is not in the language right now, understand? This is a pool. We're going for a swim. That's all."
James added, "I wish somebody would clean it, then."
"It is clean," coldly replied Kevin, as the water reached his waist, "clean enough to drink, almost. That's why the filter is so simple."
Silence hung, as the water got up to Kevin's chest, inches below the unsealed V-neck of his suit.
"I suppose they have no idea we're down here," James mumbled, looking up at yellow lights on the ceiling, making the water look clear with its color distortion.
"Nobody except Jack," replied the bobcat, putting a reassuring hand on James' shoulder as the water reached his waist. "And speaking of which, kit, when we get out of this," he continued in a calm voice, "I'm going to hang the oxygen tanks on the ceiling, put him down here, and run the cycle again."
James laughed, making Kevin chuckle. He was seriously contemplating it, after the fox decided to do something so stupid as a purge cycle when he had another "apprentice" -- even if it was the first of the year.
But it was only now he realized James was taking this better than any of his previous assistants ever would have. With a shrinking airspace, Kevin chose one question to ask, perhaps like one about to be executed.
"Did you really volunteer?" he asked, as he felt his suit filling up with the warm water.
"Yes," James replied, smiling somewhat sheepishly.
"Why?" asked Kevin, voice almost a whisper, barely audible over the running water.
"Because I want to be the janitor in charge, just like you did."
"But kit, no normal janitor need put up with this," Kevin argued, as the water approached his neck, and touched the bottom of James' V-neck.
"Yeah, I know," replied the Jaguar, before he primed his mask, and put it over his face.
Kevin, by contrast, picked up of the water in his hands, and splashed it on his face.
James was unable to speak, but the look was unmistakable: what are you doing?
"It helps use your oxygen slower," he answered, "it's called the diving reflex." He pulled the diving mask out from the back of his jumpsuit, and fitted it over his face, as he felt the water brush his chin fur. Like a child getting into the pool for the first time, Kevin slowly sank his way in, and then swam away.
The currents, presssure, rushing sounds, and respirator hisses all hit him as soon as he bent his head under. In the dim yellow light, from above, reflected in all different directions and scattered rays by the shaking surface, he saw James slowly bow too, his dark form a mere shadow in the oddly colored, glimmering light. The oxygen tank being so heavy on his back, James swam slowly and awkwardly down the enclosure, buffetted by the rushing of the pipes.
Kewin wanted to be alone. He wanted to enjoy this, as he always did; the water, the surreal sense of gravity and pressure, and even the smell. He wished he could smell inside his face mask, but its shape did not let him.
This smell, that he could enjoy every two or three weeks, was the thing so disgusting that he turned it into a nickname. He didn't want to share his enjoyment with anyone, least of all a kit half his age. But he could see James following him, lugging his oxygen tank in his right hand.
Kevin tried to escape by swimming over a pipe, and then sinking below it, gaining protection from the water that continued to rush out. The current tried its best to knock James away from Kevin, and succeeded for a while. But James figured out the secret of going above the pipes, near to the surface, and sank down next to him.
Kevin waved his arm from side to side through the thick water with most of his strength: go away, swim somewhere else.
But James shook his head.
Kevin growled into his respriator, causing a large stream of bubbles, and sharply pointed to the far end with a glare.
But James just drew closer, and sank beside him, staring at him.
Frustrated that he could not be himself, Kevin tried the opposite approach. He let himself sink slowly, and settled down for a nap at the bottom of the tank.
He waited for James to leave; waiting to feel the wake of him swimming off somewhere else. But after a while, he stopped waiting, and his body started contemplating sleep. He had arrived at 2 AM, two hours earlier than usual, and he was quite tired.
Once his body became convinced it was not about to drown, Kevin unsealed his boots from his feet to let the water flow more freely through him, and slowed his breathing. His brain soon followed, and started blocking out his senses with the onset of sleep.
The next thing Kevin was aware of was a change from a clear liquid to a yellow liquid, by the return of the lights to white. The purge cycle is complete, he thought; all this water would just have to drain out now. Indeed, when he swam back toward it, he saw the bubbles rising into the tank through two floor vents, and it appeared the water level was almost to the top of the door. He must have napped for almost an hour, he thought.
Being so used to things as they always were, he forgot completely about James, in his mild grogginess. He took a liberty he only normally took while alone, to wake himself up. He swam up to the surface, took his mask off, shut off the tank, and shed his jumpsuit, letting the tank drag it to the bottom of the concrete and land with a deep and resonant clunk.
This was such a great liberty because, contrary to regulations, he wore nothing but his fur under it.
He swam freely, doing a summersault or two, and coming up for air every few seconds. The liquid was fresh, its contents not yet beginning to be broken down or devoured by bacteria, and it still had a bit of sweet edge. Playing in the water and breathing the smell were the two simple pleasures of his life.
The view from under the water, the sound in is ears of the pressure and slowly draining trays, made it feel like another world; a world different from the world of air. A world where he could fly. In spite of his inertia in a heavier-than-air medium, he seemed to be as weightless as on the moon.
It was as he took a breath, however, that he realized James was here. He could see him drawing nearer, probably to investigate the sound of an oxygen tank hitting the bottom.
The jaguar swam toward him, tank in tow. Kevin tried to get back into his jumpsuit without the tank. but it was too heavy to manipulate without air. He forced himself to surface, and with a deep gasp, submerged and tried to hide behind a pipe.
When James got close enough, Kevin to wave him away, or at least to get James to look the other way and not see him without his jumpsuit on. But having no tank this time, his body panicked after 15 seconds, and forced him to surface without protection from James's yellow eyes.
He took a breath, and returned to the water to find the jaguar had been staring the entire time.
He gritted his teeth, cursing himself in a short stream of bubbles for letting the tank fall so loudly. The best he could do now, he thought, was to try and talk the jaguar through what he had seen.
After taking another breath, Kevin swam quickly over to the door, and over the railing. He barely managed to stand on it, treading water occasionally for balance as he watched James follow. He then ducked his head, and pulled his hand over his face from bottom to top: take off the mask.
James got the point. He surfaced along with Kevin, still dragging the tank, and worked hard to tread water as unhooked the mask from around his ears, and rolled his head to get it off.
"The cycle will be over in about half an hour," Kevin stated with heavy breaths, looking at the level and measuring to the sensor. "I guess now," he continued, facing the inevitable truth, "you know why I kept this job."
"You said it yourself," James replied, "it's just a giant pool."
"I guess you also know," Kevin panted, "how I got my nickname."
"Any suggestions for mine?" he asked.
Kevin was perplexed by the question as his arms were getting more and more tired. "What do you mean?"
"I mean this is fun."
Kevin was surprised but inexplicably delighted as well, "Really?" he repeated skeptically, hiding his feelings.
"Really," replied the jaguar.
Kevin found his emotions getting the best of him. He saw the jaguar's eyes sparkle in the water's reflections, making his short nose and soft features more boyish. It was once again starting to re-arouse feelings in him.
He was too old to act upon them, he thought, but still there was no harm in at least getting a look at the jaguar; after all, it was only fair, now that he was exposed. A plan sprung to mind quickly.
"If you stay," he inisted, his swimming feet almost to the concrete below them, "you'll have to earn it."
"And how do I do that?" asked James, a small smile spreading over his face.
He replied, his voice more excited than he had hoped, "you'll have to beat me to the other end and back."
For Kevin knew there was only one way to beat him: James had to drop the tank and take off his jumpsuit.
The bobcat got more on the edge of the railing, legs on the top rung, ready to push him forward. "Get ready, kit," he commanded.
James got up on the railing, dropping his tank but leaving his suit on.
"Close it kit!" Kevin snapped, not leaving position, "don't waste it!"
James, in surprise dove and screwed the valve shut. But before he could get back in position, Kevin shouted "Go!" and pushed off.
James started to swim after him, face indicating it was unfair to do that.
Kevin alternated his arms and legs, doing a fairly bad dolphin crawl; it looked more like he was climbing through the water than swimming through it. He tried to focus, blocking out the smell, the splashes, and only tried to concentrate on his breathing and keeping his arms and legs attacking the water. The end seemed so far away, and seemed not to get any closer, what few glimpses he took when he broke the rhythm.
He dared not look behind him. He didn't want to see James overtake; a situation that, at his age, he considered inevitable. He just breathed as best he could to give his muscles all the oxygen they could use, even as he felt his chest constricting and his arms starting to tire. His thoughts of his end goal drove him on.
Dragging himself ahead, he concentrated on his motions, and counted the pipes, which went by agonizingly slowly. He felt as if his insides were tearing him up at the sixth pipe out of fifteen. However, he also noticed that the water was now low enough he could grab hold of one to avoid drowning, should it come to that. And that thought -- that he could stop any time he wanted -- kept him going a little longer.
His only consolation at having to give up was the fact that James was still behind him. It was nigh impossible for him to catch up, Kevin hoped, because he would not take his suit off. He had to maintain his advantage to make a point.
But by the tenth pipe, Kevin was struggling to keep going. In too much pain to stand, he grabbed hold of it, and managed to roll himself on top of it.
"I quit," he grunted, voice barely audible over his panting, "I quit, you bastard."
He heard James grab hold of the ninth pipe behind him with a series of splashes. "What did I do," called James loudly behind him, voice sounding just as tired.
"I was talking to myself," snarled the bobcat between breaths, "I'm an old fool who still wishes he was young."
"I'm young, and you wiped me out too," James offered.
"If you'dve taken off the suit, you'dve beat me," Kevin growled, talking toward wall, since he could not turn around enough.
When James didn't respond, Kevin wondered if James had figured out the race's true purpose. Worse, the water level was now approaching the bottom of his glutes, and was about to reveal that his member was beginning a hard-on.
Since he felt cold, not merely out of modesty, Kevin let go, and started swimming back, this time much more slowly. He heard James let go soon after he did.
It took Kevin almost 20 minutes to swim to the other end, grabbing onto one pipe after another to rest. He was pleased to find that the water was almost below the platform when he finally got there, and fast approaching the bottom of the sensor. He estimated the door would be unlocking any minute now.
He sat down on the middle step, water up to his chest at that height, feeling exhausted. He just looked up at the jaguar to apologize, but was astonished to find that, on the way here, he had shed his suit.
The water's reflections scattered whatever was below his waist, but Kevin was trying to sort them out anyway with staring eyes. Stopping himself after a moment, Kevin groaned, "I'm too old for this." He was speaking more to himself as he got fully hard under the water.
James said nothing, but instead, sat down right next to him, and muffled Kevin's protest by locking their muzzles in a kiss.
Kevin thought that this would at least be something he could do, and so better locked them together with his hands on the back of James's head. He tasted a little strange, Kevin thought, but so did every other muzzle he'd had. When James decided to start counting the bobcat's teeth, Kevin decided to reciprocate. The result was a complex dances as the two tongues tried to get past each other.
But as Kevin grew colder, the water continuing to fall, he untangled himself from James, turning the kiss into a hug. "That was wonderful, James," he mumbled by the jaguar's ear, "I wish I could do better."
"You can do better," he replied quietly, "just trust yourself."
Then Kevin heard a familiar clank. The door behind them had unlocked.
"I'm cold, shower's right in there," he stated as he let go.
He let James walk by him first, and push the door open easily, as if letting him get a satisfaction he missed after his first mad dash. He watched the cute, young body strut gently though the door, tail curling behind him. It was almost enough to get Kevin to believe in himself.
He followed James into the shower corridor, a 10 by 3 foot tile area with a large, square floor drain in the middle to which the rest of the floor sloped. Kevin closed the door, and reached past James to pull down the lever. Three heads mounted in the ceiling started spraying hot water immediately.
Kevin gasped in surprise at the temperature, but very quickly fell into lulled enjoyment of it. Kevin started rinsing himself, but found himself just watching James instead, who had his back turned. It seemed more like he was combing than washing himself, pressing all of his fur flat, and squeezing the water out.
First he did his arms, then his shoulders, then his chest, then his legs and tail. As he was reaching for the only area he hadn't cleaned yet in front of him, something inside Kevin snapped.
He grabbed the jaguar's arms, and pulled them back, snarling "no!"
James was quite shocked, but didn't resist.
"You told me to believe in myself," he growled, feeling the strangest expression appear on his face, "but do you believe in me?"
"Yes," gasped James, his breathing starting to quicken.
Kevin reached over and pulled the lever up, shutting off the water as his heart accelerated. "Prove it," he snarled, feeling like a taught wire from anticiaption.
He slowly let James escape from his grasp, and was rewarded by the jaguar's mouth descending to start kissing the tip of the bobcat's member. "Please," he murmured, "don't stop."
Kevin was in love the moment he felt that first twinge from the lovely muzzle touch, and hoped James would give him proof of what faith he still had in himself.
James did his best, painting first the smooth, pink surface of Kevin's prick with his velvety tongue. Kevin was panting uncontrollably, penis as large as it would get, but nerves pushing him higher with every touch.
"Don't stop," he groaned, his heart now pounding in his chest.
James oblidged, making even more powerful strokes along the most sensitive edge with his tongue. Kevin, feeling his legs get weak, slowly sat down, carefully moving James with him. He was careful enough that the jaguar didn't stop, even for a moment.
Before long, the tongue had Kevin oozing in preparation for a feeling he missed. "Almost there James," he groaned, grabbing hold of the head bent before him, as he now writhed in pleasure on the floor, and groaned with every touch.
He instinctively spread his legs out as far as he could, as his hips thrust once reflexively at his partner. Seeming to realize Kevin's approach, James changed technique to put his whole muzzle into it, especially the inside of his cheeks. When that didn't seem to be enough, he started also gently squeezing Kevin's sac, hinting to the muscles in his pelvis what they should be doing.
This finally did it for Kevin. Rising fast, he completed with a few irradic thrusts and grunt of James' name. As his nervous system flooded him, Kevin felt the sucking turn to suckling, as the rising heat became rising fluid from within his balls. Out it flowed, as a parallel wave washed over his brain. Everything in the world, except for James's wonderful accepting of his seed, seemed to fade out.
"I love you, James," he mumbled, as he felt the muzzle licking up his sheath and balls for the last drips and struggled to return to reality, "you make an old bastard feel young again."
When he felt the wonderful mouth leave him, he got up off the floor, knees shaking, and turned the showers back on with an unsteady pull of the lever.
His anger for Jack was drowned by this feeling; while he knew he should still have it, it was a fraction of its original size, having been all but snuffed out by the wonderful sensation before. After their shower, however, Kevin was still intent upon fixing him.
"Let's go, James," he purred, going back into the room, whose water level was down to an inch or two from the floor. He grabbed their jumpsuits -- still smelling of their swimming adventure -- and put his on. "This, James, is the best way to persuade Jack of anything," he growled mischeviously, "watch and learn."
Without touching the shower lever, they walked straight through the shower corrodor, out through the narrow entry hall and onto the three-capacity elevator they used to get here. James smiled in a mirror image of Kevin's, apparently realizing what they were going to do.
Kevin closed the folding steel door, and held the up lever. The car slowly rose, about as fast as either of them could have walked up a flight of stairs. Fortunately, it was only a few feet back to the top, and when they pulled the gate aside, they were standing directly in the back of the control room. A rather overfed fox near the front of the room was the only one present, and immediately he turned to them in horror.
Walking straight through the changing room, tracking as they went, Kevin and James marched right up to him. "Jack," stated Kevin, "we have to talk."
"Alright, Slimeball, alright," pleaded the fox, rummaging through his desk.
"Your clothespin is missing?" Kevin purred, "I wonder who could have taken it."
"I give in," whined Jack, pinching his large snout closed with his left hand, "whad do yoo wad?"
"I want to know why you ran a purge cycle with James in there," he calmly replied.
"De danks wad aboud do vlood," he replied with great difficultly.
"That's what the sewer is for, Jack!" growled Kevin, stepping closer, and pointing to a rotary switch which controlled the tank inflow, "that's what this is for! You could have killed him!"
"Dads whad you're dere vor," insisted Jack back, "he surbibed, yesh?"
Kevin grabbed his arm, and pulled his hand from his nose, making the poor fox start squirming, and his brown eyes water.
"Listen, Jack," Kevin growled slowly, emphasizing every word, "what, you, did, was, stupid, and, I, want, you, to, pay."
Jack could do nothing but nod.
"I, want, your, next, raise."
He nodded again.
"And, this, kit, will, be, hired, on. Understand?"
Another nod.
"Good. Welcome to the family, James," Kevin patted, and escorted him back down elevator for a final shower.
As Kevin got dressed, and told James when his next shift was to be, he just kept smiling. At last, he had found his new assistant.
"We'll finish yearly maintainence next week," he said.
"Okay, Slimeball," he replied.
"Until then, Stronglegs."
"Right, Slimeball."
The End.
(version 1.0)