Fox Story
_It was the witching hour, nothing so crude as midnight of course. Anyone can be a witch at midnight under a full moon. It was past 3 am and he had been awoken by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him urgently. His eyes opened to an unfamiliar ceiling and the usual questions of "Who am I?" "Where am I?" "Am I wearing clothes?" filled his head and were promptly banished. A finger pressed against his lips and words were whispered into his ear barely above the threshold of hearing, the voice one of a distant memory his sleep addled brain could not yet recollect.
"I want to tell you a secret."_
"So what do you think?"
The slim fox at the computer glanced up at his friend, Howard, a bigger, hunkier fox who prompted double-takes and wolf-calls due to his uncharacteristically built size. Even the intellectuals had to settle for raising an eyebrow when a book lay like a pair of stiff wings in his paws, the library not permitting any verbal display of attraction. Brawn and brains? Who knew, even for a fox?
But Howard didn't consider himself brawny or brainy, nor was he up to measuring standards and comparing everyone he met to those standards. All he knew was "best," as was the favored word of his late father who'd challenged Howard and his two older brothers to push themselves to their limits, to not accept anything less of themselves--a creed that must've birthed from his love of martial arts, his three boys becoming enrolled in different classes as soon as they were old enough. Howard knew how to punch and make it hurt, knew kicks, grapples, counters--and especially when it was and wasn't appropriate to use these skills. But right now, Howard had to put his creative writing skills to the test, to aid his friend against the towering foe of the inner-editor.
"Now be honest. Give it to me like your punching bag." The small fox, Keelan, gave a few jabs to the air, a right hook. He was a flickering fireball. "You won't hurt my feelings, Howie."
"Well," Howard said, licking his lips as he leaned on the computer chair for a closer look. Hurting feelings wasn't his business. "I think your opening paragraph could use a little more--style? Tightening? I'm not sure. Not a big fan of starting the first two sentences with 'It was.'"
"Ouch. Hit me again."
Howard gave a nervous chuckle. "Well, 'he had been' in the third sentence bothers me a bit, too. Sounds passive. Remember the active voice we'd talked about?"
Keelan nodded, a bright light shimmering over his head as he mentally reworked the story. Howie was offering good advice, pointing out redundancies, superfluous words, the clarity hyphens provide, etcetera. Good advice indeed! As the big fox spoke, Keelan's mind began to wander from his words, like a kid from his mother shopping for clothes at Wal-Mart. He wondered how he ever survived growing up without the bigger fox, who was more brother than friend. As soon as Howard moved to town, transferring to his elementary school, all the bullies had to find a new target to give swirlies, to bombard with kickballs at recess (snowballs at winter!). The dank smell of restrooms restricted him to holding everything in til he got home, the lingering odor of urine reminding him of those bad times in the gaping mouths of the porcelain gods. And he never got into sports, hating the round shape of the ball--the same shape as fists and black eyes. And he hated the change of season when the new school year came, leaves dissolving into dead, stiff colors, the sky overhead whirling with gray. Writing stories indoors became his pasttime, his only joy--save for the times he spent with Howie, who taught him how to enjoy building snowmen again, the occasional game of catch, or watching him tackle a bully who'd forgotten the new rules. Without his encouragement, the smaller fox would've grown up deranged as a hermit!
"So what's the story about?"
"Didn't you read the last word?"
"Yes, but--"
"It's a secret."
Secrets didn't sit well with Howard; his own mother had kept the news of his father's death under wraps for nearly a week before admitting that he wasn't on a business trip with incredible gifts to bestow them upon his return. His stomach churned. "Well, I guess I can't help you with your story. It's getting late anyways."
Keelan bit his lip and thought. The clock above the desk clicked to midnight. Howie's whiskers twitched and he knew that meant he was growing impatient. Keelan blushed under his fur, which was a brighter shade than Howard's; this always made him feel like a more visible target. "It's about two lovers."
"Oh? A romance? What's with the witches, then?"
"Symbolism. You can't catch witches during the day--they only come out at night, when the conditions are right, when the moon glows like cauldrons bubbling with their potions. And that's the lovers' dilemma."
"They don't know they're lovers yet, I take it? Someone has to profess their love first, to break the ice?"
"Yes."
"Pretty unoriginal."
"Hey!"
"You asked for criticism. But, hell, I guess the addition of witches puts a fresh spin on things, right?"
Keelan crossed arms, his white-tipped tail batting back and forth in a furor. "That's right."
Howard grinned. How long have they known each other now? A decade, at least. He had to admit, the small fox had done more for him than he probably knew. Was the only person that ever saw him cry. Not even his own mother witnessed a shed tear at the news of his father's demise. Came over that night--midnight, like this--and bawled his eyes out in Keelan's room, wondering if his father would've seen this as weakness, feeling ashamed he couldn't live up to his creed. Heck, they were only twelve, but Keelan's quiet, unconditional embrace was something he never forgot, something that never embarrassed him the days to come, something that made him feel it was okay to display such vulnerability. Thinking of it, that was the only time they'd ever hugged.
The hailstorm of keystrokes snapped his attention back, Keelan busy tweaking the opening paragraph. "So who's the main protagonist?"
"Was thinking of a buff fox-guy like you," Keelan answered, only hesitating for a split second. Nevertheless, Howard noticed the delay, despite the distracting flattery of "buff fox-guy." Like he.
"Oh? And his lover? Who's the lucky gal?"
The hesitation crept longer. The clatter of keys stopped. "Howie, can I ask you something?"
"Of course. Anything."
"Personal?"
Howard peered down at Keelan, his eyes still glazing over the screen. "Yeah."
"Why don't you have a girlfriend yet?" Keelan turned his head.
The question caught Howard by surprise. Studying the dark-blue eyes that gazed at him, he wondered what the small fox was getting at.
"I don't know. Just not ready for one right now, I guess." Howard hated secrets. His stomach churned again.
"Oh," Keelan said. The hum of the computer ate at the silence, punctuated by the tick of the clock. He tried to concentrate on the words in front of him, but he couldn't read them without Howie intruding his thoughts, one thought a quick flash of him naked and wet. He blinked, feeling no better than a pedophile. Then he spoke: "Would it be weird if they were both... guys?" Keelan's heart raced as soon as he asked the question, as soon as Howie replied with silence for too long a moment.
"I--I suppose not."
More humming of the computer, more ticking of the clock.
Then: "Do you remember the first time I came over to swim?"
"Yeah. I've been trying to convince you for years to jump in, and you never would. What made you change your mind?"
Keelan didn't answer.
"You can tell me. I hate secrets."
"It's a witch, I tell you. It's a goddamn witch." Keelan's use of "goddamn" made Howard almost jump; Keelan never cursed. He put his head in his paws, his next reply coming out muffled.
"What was that?" Howard placed a paw on Keelan's shoulder.
Keelan raised his head. "I wanted to see you... bare."
"Without my shirt? Hell, I do that around the house, too, you know." Howard understood what Keelan was getting at and this was all he could say.
"Yeah, well I wanted to get up close. I knew you would teach me how to swim and I just..."
More humming, more ticking.
"And when you took off your trunks as a joke, your thing all hanging out..."
"You liked it?"
Keelan looked up at him, ears flat, as if he'd done something wrong. He couldn't help what he was feeling--what he'd been feeling. They'd just graduated high school and the end of summer was coming up, which meant college. Drifting apart without Howard knowing how he felt was not an option, was not something he could live with. Clouds parted, a full moon bursting into view, its light spilling through his window. A sign.
"I did."
Howard stood there, feeling big and dumb. He never knew Keelan felt that way about him, not even an inkling. "I don't know what to say."
"Is that bad? Am I a monster now? You've done so much for me before and I didn't want to ruin it by opening my big mouth, have you never talk to me again--or worse, have you join all those jerks who thought my tail was detachable--but it's been melting my insides. It's been--"
Howard placed a finger to Keelan's maw, shushing him. The small fox's chest was rising and falling; his tail was stiff. "It's okay."
Keelan took Howard's paw, swiveled the computer chair to face him, and whispered, "Can I touch you?" Embarrassment stung his face; it was such a corny, perverted-sounding request. But that didn't matter now. "I've been wanting to."
Howard gazed at his eyes, a couple nods rocking his head. Keelan's paw slid down the strong arm of his friend, across the cloud-colored chest, tracing where the rusty diamond lay beneath his shirt, that puff of fur between each broad, fan-shaped pec, before inching down the sleek, darker ridgelines of abdomen to the crotch of his jeans. Hesitation stilled his paw and, gaining the approval of another nod, he unbuttoned, unzipped. The pants fell, revealing his white boxer briefs--and quite the bulge, the sight of which made Keelan's heart thump like a wild djembe. With a firm tug he pulled the boxer briefs down, Howard's dick hanging limp along his well-toned thighs.
_ He's much bigger than I thought. Definitely bigger than I am._ Keelan wasn't too sure what the average size of a penis was. He dared not peek at any of the boys in the locker room and was too afraid to search for porn, much less browse a normal sex education site, and only had his own member with which to compare. He certainly didn't remember Howard being this long or thick back at the swimming pool when they were fifteen. Apparently he did a lot of growing in three years' time. And the musky scent--smelled enthralling.
"Are you okay? We don't have to go through with this."
"No, no--I want to if you want to."
Howard nodded.
Keelan took his friend's impressive foxhood in a paw. Felt the weight of it, the girth. He was so thick. Lifting it to better reveal his balls resting heavily as two conjoined speed bags, he took both in his other paw, testing their warmth and weight, giving a gentle tug.
Howard's dick stiffened, grew tumescent. He pulled off his shirt, letting it fall in a pile behind him, showcasing the strong musculature he had worked on, defined throughout high school during gym class, throughout his martial arts training. Keelan smiled as his eyes glazed over the prize before him, his paw stroking off the indurating rod that slowly angled upwards. The glans engorged with blood, grew broad. His paw focused on the head as Howard's dick completely hardened, moans escaping his jaws as his body tingled with excitement, as a paw that was not his tantalized his huge dick. Keelan's eyes went wide at the size--if he had to guess, it was nine inches long. Most likely longer. He was lucky enough to be five.
"It's humongous, How. You're one lucky fox."
"I am," he said, placing a paw along Keelan's face.
Keelan grinned before kissing the head of Howard's penis. He tasted pre-cum, some leaking out now. His paw sped up, stroking the member from root to tip, his pitching its own little tent. Howard's balls swayed, his breathing became shallow, and he fondled the back of Keelan's head, bracing himself. His whole body felt amazing; it made such a difference when somebody else touched you, somebody else you cared for. Loved.
Keelan realized how lucky he was, too. Not because he had a beautiful dick in his paw, tracing the plump vein curving along the top, feeling how the skin moved, but because everything was falling into place. He could hear Howie's breathing, whisperings of his name, could feel his thick paw coaxing him, gently scratching the back of his head, combing through his fur. It reminded him of that day at the swimming pool--the encouragement as Howie taught him the different strokes, the proper breathing techniques. Having caught a good glimpse of his foxhood, he pawed off to Howie's naked image that night, wondering how his body felt, how his dick felt all swollen in his paw. He remembered feeling bad afterward. Now none of that mattered. It was happening. Everything he'd wanted was happening now.
Several minutes or so passed and--almost without warning--Howard's body tensed; he grunted, moaned so loud Keelan thought his parents would wake, and shot his first thick rope of warm, white spunk onto the smaller fox's muzzle. Another loud moan. More semen festooned the whiskers on one side, forcing a chuckle. He kept stroking, Howard's foxmeat pulsing in his paw, the third and fourth shots hitting Keelan in the chest, the next few on the floor, lines of white on forest-green carpeting, then the last few over Keelan's paw as he stroked the head. Howard let out a breath.
"God, Keelan. You got quite the paw. Guess you're next?" Howard grinned at the fox below and the mess he'd made on his fur.
"I'm not as impressive," he said, tapping the cum on his paw, testing its consistency, then wiping what he could off his muzzle.
"Heh... you think witches need a certain sized broomstick to fly? I may not know much about eye of newt potions and eating small children, but I believe magic comes from within. Try using that in your story!"
Keelan had that look of longing as Howard bent down on his knees, unzipping the fly, letting out the stiff pinkness, his white balls. That night he learned the taste of flesh, what it meant to make love with someone possessing such innocence, such adoration and want. Howard knew he yearned for Keelan as much as he did for him; was just too afraid to admit so. But this was right. It felt right, as it did years ago when he stood up for his fellow fox. What was happening now was best for them both and he knew this was not a start of a new chapter, but a whole new story, opening up their lives to a rewritten future he knew would end with the cliché, but deeply sought happily ever after.
Keelan gave a quiet moan, clutching the sleek, pointy ears below him, listening to the wet sounds Howard was making, his warm tongue sending zips of pleasure from his foxhood through his spine. He felt surrounded by warmth, the kind of warmth where nothing mattered, where he felt safe and loved. Beside them the screen glowed with his words as the computer hummed, as the clock ticked again into the live, moonlit night.