FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Written by Choice Cuts Deli

Commission for Tomek | July 2021 | 5605 Words

"Ohhhh kay, here we a- fuck." The cheap plastic key card slipped in and out of the card reader three or four times before the door finally flung open, the pink pig DJ proud to have overcome the last obstacle. Wrapping his arms tight around his now official brother-in-law, the sharp-dressed porker guided the brown-furred tabby into the hotel room, the cat's nicely tailored suit pouching out at the gut. With a paw upon his belly, the cat groaned softly as he sat down upon the side of the bed, rolling his head back with a little exhaustion as DJ knelt to help remove the uncomfortable shoes. "You doing okay, Toby?"

"I will be once I can put my feet up," the cat growled softly, half-idle kicking his footpaw. "Goddamn, they tell you not to get pregnant in health class, they never tell you how much it's going to suck for months."

"I think they... do?" DJ grunted, helping Toby swing his legs up onto the bed. "Or are supposed to? I dunno, they always took the boys out of the room and made us watch videos about how bad our bodies stink."

"Would have been nice to get that talk instead." The tabby chuckled, adding, "Nah, I'm just complaining. My feet hurt, my guts feel bloated, and my litter was fighting with the butterflies in my stomach when the priest made me say my vows."

"I think you did great!" DJ exclaimed, disappearing to fill a glass with tap water. "You don't have to worry about anything now, just gotta enjoy the reception and your honeymoon."

"Would be nice to have a drink," Toby chuckled as DJ returned, the cat reaching out with both paws to grab for the offered glass. "I don't envy you, though, big bro. You've got a huge job ahead of you tonight. Though, can't say I'm not looking forward to it." Setting aside the glass, Toby gave a soft prod to DJ's belly, chuckling as the porker squirmed in his suit jacket. "Y'know how they say pregnant folks get the weirdest cravings? Ever since you let me in on this little plan, I've been dying to sink my teeth into some of this..."

"Don't you worry, there's gonna be plenty to go around." DJ replied with a wink, only to feel Toby's clawed fingers grip at his undershirt, popping off one of the buttons and slipping inside to get a better feel. "O- Oh..." A soft blush flushed over the porker's face at the attention, Toby licking his chops as he growled.

"If I had it my way, you'd have been breakfast and lunch for the whole wedding too, but I know how much you want to strike a scene at the reception dinner." The pair hardly heard the door lock click, the father of the groom chuckling as he walked inside half-distracted.

"Hoo boy, sorry I'm late, took me a bit to ditch Walker. He was still vibrating from saying his vows. Had to send him on a wild goose chase to find a shrimp cocktail server for Grandpa Flee- oh." The portly raccoon turned his salt-and-peppered snout just in time to see a salivating Toby licking his boxy muzzle as he gave an intent and hungry squeeze to his adopted son's body. "Uhhh, hey kiddo, you're gonna ruin your appetite if you pick at the meal before it's done."

"I've been ravenous for months, Mr. T. Ever since I started getting morning sickness from the litter." Toby hissed, giving a little wink up to DJ before adding, "Today's gonna be my cheat day."

Tomek shook his head, quickly stepping up to grab DJ and give him a little tug away from the bedside, Toby playfully clawing at the air as the porky piggy's belly was taken away from him. "I swear, that boy's got a touch of my condition," he growled under his breath into DJ's ear before straightening up once again. "So... you're still sure about this, Son?"

"Heh, yeah Dad. We've been planning this for months. But uh," turning his attention back to Toby, DJ couldn't help but give his brother-in-law a soft smile. "Do you mind if Dad and I head out? I want to talk to him before it's time."

"S'alright. I'll see you on the dinner table, hun. Thanks for... Everything, yeah?"

"You treat Walker right now. Promise? I won't be able to give a speech tonight, but uh..."

"You'll speak plenty with what you're doing, DJ. And uh... Yeah... I promise. If I should ever hurt him, choke me on a rib bone from beyond the grave or something."

"You know it." Taking his dad's paw in his hand, DJ smirked as he added, "And don't let Walker get close to the kitchen tonight. It's a surprise after all."

Gentle sounds of festive classical music lilted through the halls of the Sunnyvale Hotel and Resort, uplifting the sounds of friends and family milling about the lobby between the wedding and the reception. Of course, many of the more stuck-up members of the Katts family seemed a little uneasy around the motley crew invited by Walker. A mixture of close friends from college, a few old acquaintances of his and DJ's from Summer Camp, and of course Tomek's extended family. It was a veritable sea of striped fur and pink pig skin, topped off with a smattering of felines to round out the guest list. Of course, the Katts family may have been uneasy for other reasons. Perhaps the fact that Walker and Toby's marriage was consecrated by a Priest of Dionysus? Or perhaps it was the groom's parents' untimely demise under mysterious circumstances that kept them cautiously skeptical?

Turning down the hallway to the right of the reception desk, DJ sighed as he reached out to grip Tomek's paw. With a little squeeze, the dadly raccoon swallowed hard as he stopped in the middle of the hall, turning bodily towards his son to face him. "You know, DJ? I'm... I'm proud of you."

"You are, Dad?" The porky boy gulped softly as he realized his adoptive father wasn't going to let him go without a talk.

"I've... uh... Look, your real Dad also would have been proud. He wanted so bad to be a prized pig roast for the table. Even if he didn't... He would have loved to know that you made the choice to be your brother's wedding meal."

"I know he does," DJ forced a smile to cross his face, not out of concern, but because he could feel his own emotions welling up inside his gut. "Because you're my real dad." Without missing a beat, DJ flipped the entire conversation around as he asked, "I... have to ask, Dad... You uh... You've been looking forward to this day too, haven't you?"

Tomek's jaw slacked, eyes widening as he stammered, "I... I- N- Wh-" A soft smirk crossed DJ's face as he reached up with his free paw, planting it on the raccoon's boxy muzzle.

"Hey, hey... None of that."

Heaving a sigh, Tomek collected himself just enough to sheepishly ask, "You know then, huh?" A nod was all he needed. "Wh- When did you...?"

Rolling his eyes, DJ let go of Tomek's paw to count on his own fingers. "The Halloween costumes? The family dinner mishap with Mom? The fact you wanted to chow down on a porn star who looked like me? The whole time we were stuck in during Swine Flu? I take after my biological dad, and you can't go a week without popping a can of his meat open..." The list only ensured Tomek's nervous look deflated further with each poke and prod. "Oh yeah, there was that time when Walker got mad I melted his action figures so he said that you were just giving me ice cream so I'd be fat when you ate me." For a moment, Tomek cracked a smile, nodding in agreement before realizing how pegged he was over the years. He wanted to shrink away from his boy. That is, until the raccoon felt his tender porker reach up to give him a firm squeeze around the midsection, a tight hug. "I love you, Dad. I've always loved you, and always will..."

Melting into the hug, Tomek nodded softly against his fine swine's neck, sniffing the warm, familiar scent of his boy. "I love you too, son."

"I'm not just doing this for Walker, you know." DJ gave a firm squeeze around his dad's midsection, a little kiss planted on his old man's cheek.

"I... I don't know what to say, kiddo."

"How about, 'I'll have the pork?' " A wry little smirk crossed DJ's face as he took his father's paws, holding them tight as his dad, for the second time today, walked his son down the aisle. Except this time, they had to dodge a catering cart on their way to the kitchens.

Abe Celhog grunted softly as he looked over his paperwork, the catering bills and menus laid out over gleaming metal workstation. As he unrolled his knife set on the countertop, the portly hog proprietor of the Celhog Chophouse couldn't help but shoot a concerned glance over to the menu. "Well... Fuck, this is gonna be the hardest job I've ever done," Abe grunted as he re-read the name on the menu.

Devin Junior "DJ" Fleetpaw

Sire: Devin [Unknown]

Sow: Maple Celhog

He was about to flip the paperwork over to the medical report, not that he needed to read it again, when the swinging double doors to the kitchen clacked on their hinges, snapping the porker out of his pause. Turning to see the pudgy swine enter his kitchen, Abe swallowed as he put on his best smile, almost immediately wiped the moment he noticed the hefty raccoon stepping inside behind him.

"Ah, hello," Abe began, his trotters quickly stepping to the door. In a flash, the hog had grabbed DJ about the shoulders and pushed him aside, putting his whole focus on the raccoon. "I'm sorry, Sir." The chef said with a cut to his tone, "We don't allow guests back in the kitchen."

"B- But, the hotel said-?" Tomek stammered in confusion, quickly cut off by the pig's firm voice.

"I'm sorry, Sir, it sounds like someone gave you the wrong information. We can't have guests in the kitchen." Abe of course knew this was a bold-faced lie. He also knew he had very little time before the sous chef, the one who actually worked for the hotel, would be back from the bathroom freshening up. With a stern growl, the hog gave a gentle, guiding push to Tomek's shoulder, nudging the raccoon just enough to force him to let go of DJ's hand.

"But... I'm his father..." The words didn't help the situation, Abe's firm and forceful hooves pushing him towards the door. "D- DJ, I- I'm sorry, son," he rumbled as the caterer guided him back towards the swinging double doors. "I know you wanted me to be here..."

Bewildered, already overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of the kitchen, DJ watched blankly as his father got pushed back through the doors, a half-protest halting on his snout as the pudgy porker chef turned his attention to the dish of the day. "I love you, Dad," was all he could muster. Turning his attention to Abe, DJ cocked his head to the side in confusion, flopping his ears to the side as he began to wonder aloud, "This wasn't part of the catering package we asked for..."

"No, little pig," Abe huffed, rolling his shoulders in his sharp-dressed chef's coat as he approached. "I needed a moment with you, alone." Snouts touching softly, Abe went in for a kiss, tenderly landing on DJ's supple snoot. Those words, little pig, were strangely familiar. As familiar as the kiss the two shared. Breaking it off, Abe added, "How long ago was it? Two 18-year-old hogs sharing their first budding romance at summer camp. The farm owner's son and the runt who got to live a real life. I never thought I would see you again, let alone be the one who cooked you."

"Abe?" DJ asked meekly, his voice soft and breathy as he filled in the pieces. "Abe Celhog?"

"So, you remember too?"

"How could I forget? We made out in the boathouse on the lake when the camp counselors weren't looking. Hell, I lost my virginity to you the night I won the Fine Swine Scholarship."

A wry smirk crawled across Abe's face as he whispered, "We spent the night sleeping in the barn, just talking about ourselves and our futures. I said I wanted to own a restaurant... And I do now." Pulling back, Abe pressed his hooves to DJ's shoulders, sighing. "You were so full of life and hopeful, DJ. So different from the other hogs on the farm. They all knew they were meat. You... wanted to be meat." pausing for a moment, Abe grunted as he turned his attention back to the paperwork on is prep station. "And that is why I needed to talk with you. "I remember our conversation that night. And more important you told me that your father was a surrogate sperm donor."

"Devin? I never knew him."

"Nobody did. It's hard to find info on a meat boy who doesn't have a last name. But I got ahold of his records. His genetics look more like a pretzel than a proper family tree."

"I'm aware of that, Abe, that's why he was canned instead of cooked." Pausing for a moment, DJ cocked his head to the side, exploring the thought "Why are you telling me this? I already know Dad was poor quality."

"Because even with the top-class genes of your mother, I can't rightly serve meat of your grade." Abe growled, "Your meat will somehow come out stringy on one half and lumpy on the other, if you don't pop into goo or some weirdness... I spent years of my life building my reputation and restaurant. I would be a laughingstock to put you on the table whole..."

"D- Does this mean-?"

DJ was quickly cut off as Abe planted his snout firmly on the pudgy porkers' lips, stealing one last kiss before whispering, "There is a solution... But it's only a compromise." Whispering into DJ's ear, Abe nestled in against the boy's shoulder, the chef laying out his thoughts for the little pig he cared and lusted for. DJ simply nodded, his flicky little ears wiggling on his head at each suggestion from the master chef.

Ashe growled softly as he stepped back into the kitchen, the orange-furred fox wiping his paws on the tea-towel tied to his apron strings, a little grin curling across his face as he sighted the evening's meal, the pink and pudgy piggy he was slated to prepare. Of course, he also had to look the catering chef in the face, having to force a smile despite being pushed aside from his usual role as the hotel's head chef in subordination to the portly porker for the evening. But it was what the customer ordered, and what they shall get.

"My, my..." the fox growled softly, reaching out to tease his paws along DJ's supple stomach, the fine swine already having shed his clothes. "He's a handsome ham, isn't he?" Leaning into the porker's face, Ashe instinctively licked his chops in a slow and sensual movement. "Shame I can't get a cut of him myself."

"Cleaned in and out before he came here, so the boy's all set for his big dinner date," the master chef grunted, unable to help but fidget in his slightly too large chef's coat. "Small change of plans for the presentation. We'll deal with that later though." Giving the guest of honor a pat on the meaty back, Abe gave a gentle tap to DJ's shoulder. "We better get you cooking, little pig," he said with a smirk, adding, "Wouldn't want you to be late for your big show. Guiding the pudgy porker up onto the gleaming steel work-surface, Abe gave a little smirk as he watched his sous chef swallowing back his drool.

"So," Ashe growled, tail swishing behind him softly, "since you're in charge, what's the plan for this one?" The fox smirked as he allowed his paw to slide down the boy's supple flesh, teasing his fingers over the meaty belly before him, claws tenderly raking the flesh.

"He'll get the usual," the hog chef grunted, turning away from the pink porker to the refrigerator to retrieve several bowls of rough-chopped vegetables. "Stuffed, glazed and roasted. No need to be pretty with him either, he's being parted out as chops."

"Chops?" Ashe grunted, taken aback by the thought alone, "He's supposed to be a centerpiece ham, what's with the choice to cut him up?" The news did not stop the sous chef's fondling, his fingers carefully toying against DJ's pucker, one of the chunky digits carefully toying its way inside the boy's tender, if tight, hole.

"Last minute decision. Dunno who made it but we're being paid for it," Abe chuckled, shaking his head as he plopped the heavy bowl down in front of DJ. "Alright, hog, face down and tuck your legs." With a smirk, Abe couldn't help but notice the little stiffy he got from the gentle prodding, enhanced as Ashe slowly sunk a second and third digit in, his paws rough on DJ's tender hole as he worked them inside. Almost as an afterthought did the fox casually remove his fingers, slickening them up with a room-temperature stick of butter. As DJ got comfortable in the pan, Abe couldn't help but whisper something so his meal-to-be, before coaxing him to curl up in a more appropriate position for a suckling pig. Arms tucked under his chest and thighs tucked to either side of his belly, DJ watched on with a nervous gaze as his limbs were carefully tied.

Wrists bound to shoulders, ankles bound to hips, DJ watched on with a bit of nervous trepidation as his body was restrained tighter and tighter. That nervousness faded the moment Ashe's fingers returned to his hole, a firm swallow as he felt the stretch grow wider and wider. The fox might have buttered up his paw to the elbow, but his fist also came with a handful of chopped veggies, forcing DJ to take a much larger fisting.

"A- Ahhh, F- Fuck!" DJ gasped, grunting and huffing as he felt the fox's paw push past his inner ring, the boy's tender hole swallowing the fox's paw entirely up to the wrist. The exclamation quickly turned to a squeal as Ashe planted a paw hard on DJ's hip, shoving his fist in deep. Opening his maw wide, DJ went to yelp at the sudden invasion of his colon, only to feel the crisp flesh of an apple tuck between his jaws, the pain causing him to sink his teeth deep into the bright red fruit.

"Shhhh," Abe growled low under his breath, reaching up to pet DJ's tender ears, flicking them back out of his eyes. "Relax, meat." As Ashe worked fistful after fistful of stuffing into his tender meal, carefully working each handful one deeper and deeper into the tender meal. "Makes things easier when they can't mouth off," Abe chuckled, watching his fox sous chef taking a little pleasure in getting his arm in all the way up to the elbow.

"Shame we can't fuck'em..." Ashe commented, playfully pausing himself as he drew his paw back out, pausing just long enough to tease his soft paw pad against the meaty boy's prostate. "You want to get in on this fisting too?"

"Naw," Abe chuckled, his face contorting just a bit as he played it off. "Uh, you stuff one, you stuff 'em all, anyways."

"Suit yourself," the fox chuckled, still working his digits over the boy's pleasure nub, "You want me to score the meat too? You look a little piqued."

Abe swallowed softly, steeling his expression as he turned his focus to the large saucepan on the stovetop. "Sure, go for it. I'll get the glaze ready." As chef Ashe finished working the last of the vegetables up into the oinker's tender ass, making sure to tuck plenty against DJ's pleasure button, he couldn't help but reach out and grab the pudgy porker's tender cock and balls. Despite the discomfort and pain of being fisted, DJ couldn't hide the fact his meaty little cock had swollen from the forced stimulation he endured. Peering back over his shoulder, the hog snorted through his gagged snout as he felt Ashe take a length of cooking twine. Working the string about the boy's balls, Ashe chuckled as he gave a firm tug, making the tender scrotum stretch and squish. Binding it off in a boxy knot around the porker's cock, Ashe couldn't help but give a little tease to his meal's shaft with his slick and supple fingers.

"Shame you never said you wanted a final orgasm, kid," the fox growled, toying with DJ's tender shaft, stroking it ever so softly until a pearl of precum welled up at the tip. "Least I can jerk off watching this sausage throb through the oven window."

"Seriously, man?" Abe grunted, a mitted hand holding the bubbling-hot pot of glaze as he brought it back over to the workstation.

"Hey, perks of the job." With a squint, Ashe leveled his focus on Abe as he walked to grab a knife. "You aren't into it too? I figured one of the best chefs in the state would at least get off to his meals."

"O- Oh," trying not to pause out of fear of looking weak, Abe brushed off the comment with a grunt. "No, I just like to give my meat a little respect. Especially when they're giving themselves up for a good cause."

"Whatever you say, Chef." Ashe shook his head at the soft-hearted comment, a little chuckle slipping out as he planted a paw down on DJ's rump. "Alright porker, feel free to scream all you want..." Before he had finished the warning, DJ's eyes shot wide open as Ashe dragged the heavy chef's knife down the length of DJ's ass, the flesh splitting in a thin fissure opening down the porker's perked and perky ass. The comment about screaming was not just a suggestion; DJ's voice managed to carry loudly through the kitchen, echoing off the steel pots hanging overhead and ringing in the chef's ears despite the apple jammed tight in his mouth. The struggles did not stop Ashe from his work, a thin cross-hatching carved firm into the porker's ass, ensuring the meat would open as it cooked to allow the juices and fats to melt and escape. As he finished the last little slice, the fox couldn't help but twist the knife tip, prodding under the skin to get the boy's springy tail to swish behind him.

Once scored, it was Abe's turn to finish the job. As Ashe finished the last touches on the roasting pan, splaying out chopped veggies all about the roaster hog, Abe went to work pouring and ladling over the warm, sticky-sweet honey on DJ's body. "Don't worry," he said in response to DJ's growing discomfort, "It won't hurt much longer." Gooey and viscous, the tender glaze drooled down DJ's sides and back. Painted on carefully, DJ could only endure as he felt the sickly-sweet coating sear into his open wounds. "There we go... A little on the cheeks so they don't brown too much... And we're good. Any last words, little pig?" Abe couldn't help but chuckle as he heard the muffled grunts escape DJ's gagged muzzle.

"I don't speak meatboy," Ashe chuckled, grabbing the roasting pan from one side, "but I think he asked if we could warm him up a little."

"That's what I heard too," Abe added, grabbing the opposite side of the pan. The two hefted up the oversized roaster, DJ forced to look into Abe's eyes as the pair carried their meat off to one of the gleaming commercial ovens, preheated and ready for its occupant. Despite the pain, and the tears welled in his eyes, DJ could barely make out Abe's mouth moving, mouthing something to him under his breath, before the pan rotated, and DJ found himself staring into the rear of the oven.

"Have a good nap, meat," was all Ashe said before the oven door closed, leaving DJ all alone in the seething heat. Despite having endured the preparations, the porker could only grit his teeth and close his eyes tight as he tried in vain to get comfortable in the oven's embrace. Each short and sharp breath filled the boy's lungs with roiling hot air, causing the porker to grunt and groan, his noises growing loud enough that they could be heard outside the closed oven door. With Abe taking care of a few other responsibilities, Ashe was left to watch and wait for the first basting. Slipping a paw behind his apron, the fox couldn't help but enjoy his favorite part as he watched the tender porker's rump shake and sway in the oven window, the meat squirming and jerking as the heat did its thing. Stroking himself up to full hardness, Ashe moaned and shuddered, hushed words coaxing as if he was watching a porn movie.

"Mmmm... that's right, slut..." Ashe hushed under his breath, groaning as he enjoyed every long jerk of his paw, pouching out his apron with each stroke. "Fuck, look at that ass shake... Bet you want out, don't you?" Breathing heavy with each sensual movement, Ashe groaned as he edged himself closer and closer to the drinking in the sights of DJ's frantic and futile suffering. He hardly realized how long he'd been jerking off when the alarm buzzed. Ashe opened the glass-front oven door, a warm haze of steam wafting off DJ's back as the cool outside air met the seething hot porker. With a sigh, Ashe groaned through his last quick strokes, panting as he painted DJ's twitching feet with his cum. After all, not like they'd notice if he was parted out for chops.

Clink, clink, clink! Tomek tapped his glass with enough force that a wedding-frazzled Walker worried about having to take it away before he shattered it. "Everyone, everyone!" The raccoon dad called, finally putting aside his knife as he raised his fourth glass of wine for the night. "I would like to make a toast."

"Dad, you've made two toasts already..." Walker groaned. The Tonkinese cat was just about at wit's end. Hissing through his teeth, the sharp-dressed feline's displeasure was only shushed by his husband as Toby gave yet another gentle prod for him to relax.

"Normally now would be the time for the Best Man to make a speech..." Tomek began, his eyes unfixing on the crowd of wedding guests, looking down at the notes he'd prepared for a moment before continuing. "But, you might have noticed that my son DJ has been a little sparse this afternoon. Well, he asked me to speak on his behalf." A creeping grin crawled across Tomek's face, to match the creeping arousal growing in his suit-pants. "There's a few things that DJ wanted me to say. He..." The words caught in Tomek's throat as his arousal suddenly met his drunken emotions coming through. "DJ wanted me to tell you that he loved you... You and Toby, with all his heart. He wanted me to tell you that he wanted to do something special for you both..."

Toby was the first to spot it, the pregnant tabby losing his attention just long enough to catch sight of the caterer pushing a cart into the hotel's reception hall. Allowing his jaw to slacken, Toby could hardly control himself as he started to salivate, those cravings he showed earlier coming back in full force after 'saving himself for dinner' all day. Two dribbles of saliva plopped down onto the table from the tabby cat's mouth, catching the attention of a very confused Walker. Following Toby's eyes, the feline blinked softly as he watched a server approach a back table, handing off a succulent plate of pork chops and pan-roasted vegetables to an elderly raccoon family member.

"No..." Walker growled under his breath incredulous at what he saw. Standing up to get a better view of the meal one of his guests was given, his sudden shift in body language caused Tomek's speech to stop in its tracks. "Dad..." Walker swallowed before leveling his eyes on Tomek. "Dad, what is this?"

"...I... It's... We... DJ wanted to-"

"That had better NOT be my brother I'm looking at."

"Technically only a part of him, hun," Toby purred, licking his lips as he waved one of the attending servers down.

"Dad, what the fuck is going on?!" Walker snarled, a feline hiss escaping his muzzle as he slipped around the table to demand answers. "You... You pushed him to do this didn't you?"

"N- No! Kiddo, we..." Tomek stammered, suddenly aware that something was wrong with the service, the lack of a 'big reveal and happily displayed roasted suckling pig' causing the dadly raccoon to pause. A knot grew in his stomach as he declared, "He made this choice on his own!"

"You fucking groomed him, you- you... psycho!"

"I- I raised him right! I never... I always followed the parenting books, Walker!"

"Your bookcase is full of livestock husbandry books!" Turning back to his husband, Walker's jaw dropped as he watched Toby chowing down on a prime and succulent pork chop, his fingers squished softly into the bone as he tore at the tender flesh with an almost orgasmic abandon. "T- Toby! What are you doing?"

"Ohhhh god above..." Toby groaned, rolling his eyes back in his head. The perfect mixture of savory pork flowing over his tongue, coupled with the light and tangy-sweet honey glaze. It was everything Toby had dreamt of, and so much more. "He's as tender as I thought he'd be."

"You pushed my BROTHER, my best man! My best... friend... to get made into mediocre banquet hall food?!"

"I... was going to ask about that..." Tomek swallowed, as he stared wide eyed at the plate in front of Toby. Spinning about on his heels, the raccoon grabbed the nearest server, a twinky chocolate lab in a smart waiter's vest. "Hey. What's all this, there was supposed to be a roast pig?"

"Uhhh..." The canine glanced down at the plate he was carrying, two tender medallions of pork loin nestled into the vegetables. "We were told that it was to be pre-carved? Is there a problem? I- uh... I can get my manager if you need it."

"Pre... Carved...?" Tomek's expression dropped to a blank stare, his paws shaking as he tried to comprehend what he heard... "No... No, no, he... He was supposed to... I don't even get to see my boy one last time...?"

Watching Tomek slump back into his seat, and clearly not being backed up by his husband, Walker felt himself twitching, teeth grinding as the feline hit his limit. Swiping up the glass of red wine off the table, the Tonkinese downed his drink in one long swallow, before throwing the glass to the floor. The tinkling shatter caused the whole wedding party to cease - except for Grandpa Fleetpaw, the old raccoon sternly grunting a "God, I wish that were me," in response to the tender chops he'd just received. The outburst from the senile old man didn't seem to change Walker's reaction, the yellow-and-brown cat storming away from the wedding table in a huff as he left his bewildered family to pick up the pieces of DJ's demise.

Still stunned at the realization his son, the love of his life, was reduced to nameless, faceless chops and steaks, Tomek's head dropped softly. He didn't even notice the plate being set before him, only making a move when the scent hit his nose. It smelled... like DJ. Like the sweat on his clothes in the dead of summer. Like the scent that wafted off him when they cuddled after a loving evening. Like that little boarish bite Tomek got whenever he opened a can of Devin. It was his son.

Opening his eyes, streaked with tears, Tomek stared down at his plate. Two gorgeous bone-in pork chops, seared beautifully on both sides, lay atop a bed of mixed vegetables. Yet on top of this was something... different. Some pineapple lay atop the choice cuts, nestled in between the two. The edges of this pineapple were cut and sculpted, blooming in the shape of a little flower. Looking to the plates laid before Toby and the now-gone Walker, he realized nobody else had one of these flowers. Despite his vision clouded by tears, Tomek managed to wipe clear his eyes, just in time to catch the porky rump of the head chef, his springy tail wiggling behind him as he disappeared into the crowd of wedding guests. As if on cue, the band began to play, the chaos of Walker's egress needing to be paved over.

As a naïve melody filled the air, a cheap lounge singer rat crooned softly into the microphone, "Home, is where I want to be. Pick me up and turn me round. I feel numb, burn with a weak heart..." Despite nobody watching, the rodent slicked back his hair before hamming up, "I guess I must be having fun."

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