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"Crazy world, get it where you fit in

Choose how to roll, the dough there for the picking

Switch up, you're stuck, telegraphing how you're living

It's all about me, all about you"

King Geedorah,

' Krazy World'

My naked, sodden reflection in the mirror seems to me a sorry state. I push a flat paw into my belly fur and watch as my fat bubbles up around it. Ugly.

No.

Yes, though.

But, Jay seemed to like it last night.

Well, regardless, I don't want to look this way.

Is this self actualization or just plain self hatred? I can't tell. Maybe I'll try and eat a bit better today. Or maybe I won't and I'll feel worthless for it.

Still drying from the shower, I try to ease myself into full consciousness with the help of social media feeds, but nothing interesting happened overnight and there's not even any good memes so all the scrolling only ends up numbing my senses more. I think about yesterday: Jay, having fun with him, embarrassing myself, but... maybe it wasn't so bad as I thought. Maybe.

I remind myself there's no need for gloom. I'm on holiday, I've got great friends staying over and, for the most part, yesterday was wonderful. Meeting Feather, spending time with all of them in the pool, getting cozy in the living room. A smile sneaks across my lips. Maybe I'm thinking a touch more clear-headed than I could last night last night. I should be happy. I can be happy. Fuck it, I am happy.

I'm a bit of an embarrassment, but Saph still loves me. Eve will keep on loving me too.

More memories from yesterday come back to me and I'm back to cringing. Kale's getting married. I think about the wedding, then have to stop. I think about Adrian and it's all dread and guilt. On my phone again I frantically bring up my chat with him. I have the wedding invite now, he'll be expecting a response. I feel like I have to say something, but it takes a while for me to formulate a message that I don't utterly despise.

Oh my god! Congrats you two!!! So happy for you ^w^ Would love to come, haven't looked intodates or details yet, but very hopeful I'll be able to make it xx

It seems the polite thing to at least show enthusiasm, it's not like I'm promising anything - the fact that the news of their upcoming marriage has flooded me with a sense of impending dread doesn't have to be shared, yet. I'm confused about the whole thing, worried too, but, shit, I might _have_to go; Eve wants me there, and I feel an odd, grim compulsion to attend anyway.

I shake it off, mentally setting aside the subject for later and pull on briefs and some black cotton shorts. I consider going down like this, as I would without guests, but checking myself out in the mirror I can't see much past my chubby, bulging belly, so I pull on a t-shirt too. I double take as I make to leave, abruptly doubting my own self-doubt. I don't look so bad, really, do I? I'm not gigantic, I'm just... I don't know.

Last night I felt sogood... and then so bad. I just- I'm all sorts of messed up about myself right now. I pull off the t-shirt. The husky in the mirror's gut spills out over his shorts, he's definitely fat, but he's not a freakish monster; really he's just kind of... plain. It's not like anybody here hasn't seen me shirtless already. I swivel and push out my rear, checking out my reflection's butt.

Look at all that ass, damn. Of course Jay was all over me, I would be.

I smile at my mirror image and give my belly a squeeze, with less contempt this time. I do it again, frown, and vow to lose a few pounds. Maybe a few dozen. The two sides of my mind arrange some sort of ceasefire as I arrive at a compromise: the husky in the mirror isn't hot, but he's not disgusting. He's just, like, some guy, and, well, that's not ideal, but, it's okay. I head downstairs.

It seems that I'm the first awake. To be fair it's not even ten and we all stayed up pretty late. My dreams weren't exactly restful either - though exactly what filled them is lost to me other than a vague persisting sense of unease - but regardless, as the host I feel a certain obligation not to lag behind my guests, so here I am: bright, and early, and alone. Saph will be up soon, if nobody else. I pour myself some too-sugary cereal, narrow my eyes at the contents of my bowl and carefully pour some back into the box. Not gonna lose weight by changing nothing. No better place to start than here, no better time than now.

It's not much, but I find the smallest bit of pride in myself as I crunch down the too-small breakfast too-quickly. I find the slight remaining hunger quickly ejected from thought when I almost jump out of my fur staring out into my back garden. Outside sits, I think, Feather, by the poolside facing mostly away from me, clad in a plain black, baggy hoodie, knees raised up with one arm wrapped around them, taking a long drag on a cigarette. I'm not the first up after all.

I put my bowl and spoon in the sink, staring out at the squirrel as they exhale a stream of smoke that twirls and dissipates into the air. I mean, it must be Feather with a big, bushy, red tail like that, but there's something different about them this morning that goes beyond their surprisingly plain dress sense. Nervousness pervades me as I pull apart the rear doors, a sense fear and wonderment coloring it as I approach them. Feather left a good impression on me yesterday-more than that, I feel quite attached to them already - but it has become immediately apparent that there's a world left to learn about them.

They swivel their head at the sound of my egress, waving at me with their cigarette-wielding paw and covering their muzzle with their free forearm as they say: "Morning! God, sorry. I should have checked you were okay with me smoking out here."

Their voice is light and airy as ever, apparently totally unharshed by the smoke. I feel a little under dressed in my shorts and nothing else, but Feather doesn't seem to care or even really notice at all. I notice more oddities about them though: their assortment of different, flamboyant ear piercings have been replaced by a series of silver studs, though their gold septum ring remains intact.

I wave a paw dismissively. "'Course. We're outside, aren't we? Thanks for not sparking up in the house though."

I approach and they nod and by smell alone it becomes apparent that they're smoking a joint, not a cigarette. "Of course! I know you and Saph don't partake." They take another long drag, then stub out the smoldering butt in a little pink ceramic ashtray that I can only assume they brought here with them. "Even if you did, I would've asked before smoking inside. I should've asked before this too, but I thought you were asleep, didn't want to bother you and had a serious craving."

I take my place beside them gingerly, sitting maybe a meter away, a little averse to the stench of weed that surrounds them; it always, always reminds me of Marty. I try not to instinctively paint Feather with the same brush as that dead junkie, but a primal and unreasonable part of my brain sours on them, however unfairly, before I can interject.

"I was asleep, until pretty recently. How long have you been up, anyway?"

"Oh, a couple hours. Bit longer, maybe," they shrug. "Instead of waiting for you to ask why, I'll just tell you. I went out to buy some of that legal, government mandated weed you beautiful Canadians get up here."

"Ah," I say. They must have booked an Uber or something for the round trip, there's nowhere to go for that in walking distance. "A good old fashioned government approved high. How does it compare to your dealer's stuff?"

Another shrug. "It's not so bad, but..."

"Not so great either?"

They nod. "Does the trick though." A pained expression flicks across their features. They lean forward, staring into the pool water, studying the reflection of the sky. "Look, I know it's not the coolest thing to admit, but I smoke one of these every morning, or I just don't feel right."

I grit my teeth, then relax. They're not Marty. "Right. I mean, I know sometimes people get it prescribed for, like, depression, or..."

"Yeah. I don't know. Something like that. Never got diagnosed with anything or whatever. Mostly try and avoid medical professionals. Trying to engage with that world entails a constant slew of misgendering and berating in my experience. Maybe I've just had bad luck, but," a shrug, a shake of their head. "I dunno how much longer I want to test that theory."

"I get it, and I'm sorry. No need to subject yourself to that shit if you don't have to."

"Yeah. The weed helps, that's all. Keeps me calm, puts things in perspective. Don't know if that makes any sense."

"Can't say I can relate, but if it works for you, that's cool with me."

"It does. Thanks Ash." They inhale as if to say something else, then go quiet.

I saturate in the silence for a while, examining them, trying to reconcile this downbeat, low energy creature with the fabulous and vibrant thing I hung out with last night.

"Gotta say," I start, with a hint of consternation. "I hadn't really pinned you as the black hood, black sweatpants, brooding by the pool type."

"I'm giving edgy emo kid right now, huh?"

I chuckle. "I wouldn't have put it like that, but..."

"Nah, it's cool." They cross their arms and bury their chin between their knees. "This is not exactly how I like to dress."

It takes me a few seconds to figure out what they're getting at, and when I do I feel dense. "I guess going out alone somewhere you don't know..."

They nod. "Most places I _do_know too. It's like, fuck, I doubt anything would really happen other than a few stares, maybe a bit of heckling if I'm unlucky, some deliberate misgendering, but most days I'd rather not deal with that shit at all if I can help it." They pick up the charred stub of their joint and twirl it between their fingers. "It's easier to just boymode it. Not really misgendering me if I'm trying to look like this, right?"

I grimace and turn my gaze from them to the water. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. Anyhow, you get used to it." A silence I'm not quite sure how to fill settles over us. I think of excusing myself, but a flurry of movement from the corner of my vision has me turning to see them with their arms splayed out, face coming alive, their large tail swooshing behind them. They go on. "It's not so hard anyway. All I gotta do is wear something that doesn't show off my tits - not hard since they're small - and," They cover their mouth again and their delicate voice drops a couple octaves in an instant. "Talk like this."

My eyes must go real wide because they laugh and smile wide, their voice returning to normal as they say: "Didn't expect that, huh?"

"Guess I didn't really think about it," I shake my head in some useless attempt to clear my thoughts. Then lock my sights on them as they beam at me in their shabby, boyish getup. They look sort of charming like this; somehow joyful, full of life and fabulous even in these rags and after their solemn morning pilgrimage. How strong they are, having to deal daily with people who wish them grief, brainwashed, or dead. That they're still so defiantly alive is inspiring. "An early rise and all that effort fitting in with the boys for some weed? I gotta admire the tenacity."

"Well, it was that or go without. It's not like I brought bud with me on the plane." Their smile grows, inadvertently showing off their cute buck teeth. I can't help but smile too. Something about their mood is utterly infectious.

"Fair, fair. It's your holiday anyway, I'm not gonna judge you for getting up at the crack of dawn if that's what you wanna do."

"When you put it like that I almost sound put-together. When you add in the fact that it was all so I could go buy drugs, maybe less so."

I laugh and wave a paw, only a small, primordial part of me still caught up on the whole worrying about drugs things. I know, I know: lame. It's not like I haven't partied before. It's not like I haven't got stoned or high with friends. I've just had a few too many bad experiences and gathered a few too many traumatic memories to easily readjust. I force dialogue to avoid lingering on such thoughts: "Are you used to early starts then? I don't think I ever heard about what you do for a living; if Eve told me then, I'm sorry, but I totally forgot."

"She might not have. You'd probably remember if she did. But, yeah, I'm kinda used to early starts, although that's more because I'm such a light sleeper that falling leaves wake me up than anything else." They hesitate, look me up and down, seeming to think something over, before continuing. "As for what I do for a living? Sex work."

I flinch and blink repeatedly, then find myself and shake my head and bark out another laugh. "No shit, really?"

"Really."

"So what, like OnlyFur, or...?"

"Yeah, that and some other similar sites," they swish a paw back and forth in a looping motion and stare hazily into the middle distance. "Some other things from time to time. But, before you ask, I'm not sending you the links." I flap my maw, making some noncommittal sounds as I brainstorm how to reassure them that that was never my intent - though I have to admit, at least to myself, that I would take a look if offered. They giggle. "I'm just being a bully, don't worry. It wasn't an actual accusation, I just like to keep my work life and personal life separate."

"Oh, of course! I mean, that's, like, a hundred percent your right. It's really cool that you do that though, like, I think it's cool." Whatever eloquence I once had appears to have abandoned me entirely. I must sound like a fawning teen.

"Thanks," they giggle again, all but confirming my suspicions.

"Is it fun, doing that kind of stuff, or, like?"

"I mean, parts of it are. I'll be honest with you, Ash: I like showing off. I like people telling me how hot they think I am. I like getting that perfect angle that leaves my fans quivering at their desk with their dicks in their paws, belly fur sticky with cum. But, unfortunately, that's not all there is to it. Doing this sorta thing means you have to deal with inappropriate jerks, cyber-stalking creeps and straight up trolls as a matter of course. Doing this sort of thing as an obvious and out non-binary person," they shrug and their smile flickers and wilts, inheriting a sad, tired quality. Their brown-dotted green eyes are half lidded and unfocused as they swivel to catch mine, and I feel like they're rewatching unwanted memories more than they're actually seeing me. "As I said, the weed helps."

I feel silly for my prejudices. I try to let them go, but parts linger, lodged there by an immovable bulk of past trauma. Look at me, out here, feeling sorry for myself day after day when other people actually have real difficulties in their lives, it's-

No. No. Remember group. My pain is valid. My trauma is real. I am allowed to be sad, and messed up, and wrong, just like anybody else is.

"Well, I'm glad it does. You can smoke out here as much as you like and, hey, if you wanna smoke in your room with the window open, you can do that too."

They shuffle toward me, dragging their ashtray along with them. The stench of weed that engulfs them isn't nearly as bad as I had thought, having not particularly lingered on them somehow.

"I appreciate that very much Ash, you're a sweet guy."

"Who, me?" I ask, playing the question up and pointing at myself with an exaggerated expression of shock painting my face.

"Oh, hush." They jab my shoulder. "I had a real nice time getting to know you a last night, and-"

"Likewise."

"-and I'm sorry if my vibe has been kinda off. I'm rarely my best self in the morning," they push out a single laugh. It sounds a little forced, nervous perhaps. I scoot over a bit closer to them. We're almost touching now.

"Not at all. It hasn't been exactly what I expected, maybe, but you've been defying my expectations since I first laid eyes on you. I figure I should go ahead and get used to it."

"Probably advisable," they say, nodding with a renewed and exuberant affect. "Oh, hey. I was gonna ask, how did it go with Jay last night?"

My heart catches in my throat for a second. My fears of failure, of embarrassment, of being exposed as a coward all rush back to throttle me. I try to fight them off, but I'm sure my tone is uneven, my pacing strange, as I talk. "Come on, he hasn't told you? Well, I guess you were asleep when he got to bed. I'm sure you'll hear all about it when he's up and about."

"Oh, no, no, it's not like that."

"What do you mean?"

They pat my leg. "We don't share the gory details of all our encounters, Ash, just a general idea of how things might have been. You deserve your privacy, and so does Jay. If you want to let me know more, that's up to you."

"Oh, right," my fluttering heart slows. I feel a little calmer, more in control. I guess I only embarrassed myself in front of Jay after all. Things are only a third as bad as I had thought. "And you're asking because you haven't got that general idea yet, or because you're fishing for those gory details?"

"Oh, a little of column A, a little of column B."

I thwack my tail playfully against their back. They yip in indignation, getting me back with their much larger tail and drawing laughter from the both of us.

"So you get to ask all about my sex life, but you won't tell me anything about your OnlyFur?"

A shrug. "I didn't say that. I just said I wouldn't send you the link. Ask and I might answer. Or, I might not. Naturally you have that same privilege."

"I suppose I can't deny your Vulcan logic." They look confused, I chuckle. "I'm nerding out. It's a Star Trek thing."

"Oh! Like Spock, yeah, I get it."

"Anyway, yeah, last night." How exactly do I feel about it? "It was really nice. Jay was great."

"Good. He is!"

"Yeah! But, uh... Yeah, I dunno, could have been even better if it weren't for all my hangups. Still not over... like..." I should just say the word. It helps me to reckon with it, I think, sometimes, to accept what happened by externalizing it. "You know, being raped. I, uh, still have trouble lifting my tail."

Feather is silent. I'm being way too real. That was an awkward as fuck thing for me to say. Why did I have to go ahead and say something fucked like that? Stupid. Stupid!

They clear their throat. "Sorry," they say. "I just, god- Can I hug you?"

"I- I mean, of course."

I almost topple to the ground as they sort of launch themself at me, wrapping me tight in their arms, fingers laced through my bare fur. "It's just- The world is so fucking awful, you know?" I wrap my arms around them too, slowly, not so tightly, but glad to hold them, glad to be held, feeling an unstable mix of emotion well up and wander through me.

"It was a long time ago now."

"Fuck that. It was now. It's every single fucking day. That's what trauma is," they let out a frustrated grunt, pull their head back and catch my eyes, deflating some. "I get it Ash. But, I mean, I'm sorry. I shouldn't speak for you. Maybe it's different for you, and I haven't lived through that, but, that's how it is for me: trauma."

I'm struck and, for an instant, totally disarmed. It's not that I haven't felt understood since it happened - the group has been good for that, Saph has been incredible - but Feather just turned my turmoil into words, as if it were natural, as if it were easy.

"No, I mean. I don't know. I never had words for it, but, what you said, it's... yeah. It's that. Right now that feels exactly right." I pull them tight again, squeezing them against my plush belly.

It was three years ago. It's right now. It's every single day.

My grip loosens, we gradually come apart, drifting quietly in one another's eyes, finding a sort of mutual understanding even with so much missing context, even being near strangers.

"You're wonderful," I tell them.

Their muzzle flaps, then they give up on words and wear a lopsided smile, scanning my features, gradually pushing their snout out toward mine.

"Good morning beautiful people!"

It's Saph, bright and peppy, waving at us from just inside. Time and circumstance clash violently with our surreal shared moment, and just like that the clock ticks, the day moves on. I get to my feet and greet her right back.

*

Jay and Eve join us in the kitchen not long later. The sight of the athletic wolf reignites my earlier insecurities, but he wishes me a good morning and melts into our conversation as if everything were totally normal between us and I hadn't made things awkward. He's a class act, that's for sure. Or, maybe I didn't fuck things up quite so badly after all. Somehow I'm feeling a little optimistic.

When he finds a spare moment he even taps my shoulder, leans in and tells me he had a great time last night. I wag and thank him, feeling silly for the intensity of my self doubt. All this drama existed in my head; it's not that it wasn't real, but it wasn't a part of Jay's or anyone else's life, only mine. He had fun, and when I tell him I did too, the squeeze he gives my butt tells me I was too hasty for totally discounting the possibility of seconds. Well, it's the squeeze, or it's the intense reaction said squeeze provokes within my sheath. Then again, I know feeling horny and relieved right now doesn't mean I'll actually feel up to anything later, my anxieties have a way of catching up with me.

Eve is as Eve as ever. One of the first things she says is: "Last night was great, with the cards and everything, but I've been thinking: why didn't we play strip poker?" Her brash delivery and that lascivious, mischievous grin of hers never fail to earn laughs, just as her imagined scenario can't help but provoke less appropriate thoughts from me about my other guests' naked bodies. She's fun, charismatic and easy to love; it's no wonder she has two partners - exceedingly lovely and likable ones at that.

Minutes later we're all rushing about, making last second preparations before heading out into the wide world for the day's itinerary. I get changed quickly into something more suitable, and head back down to grab a quick coffee. Eve's the only other one ready, standing alone in the hallway, and, seeing me, excitedly follows me into the kitchen. "So how'd things go last night?" A tilt of her head, a wag, an excited, over-eager grin.

The question doesn't catch me so off guard this time, and I'm more prepared to answer. "Oh, it was good. He was good. Very good."

"Yeah?" Her tail is swaying so fast it's a wonder she doesn't take off.

"Yeah! But, uh, we didn't, uh," I scratch the back of my neck and avoid eye contact. She clasps my shoulder and shakes her head.

"Oh, don't worry about that. You'll get 'em next time, or one of these days, anyway. I'm just proud you took a shot at it." Her words exude such confidence and warmth that I feel utterly inclined to believe her. I nod and try to work up the courage to match her gaze again. I succeed.

"One thing though, Eve."

"What is it?"

"I'm surprised you and Feather don't walk with a fucking limp. The size of that man? My god, woman. I could barely get my muzzle around it."

"Oh my god, I know! I'm the luckiest cock-slut alive." She fans herself with a paw, needing to cool off at the mere thought of the beast. "You didn't get the knot in, did you?"

"Bitch, what do you take me for? I'm not some two bit amateur. Sucking dick isn't my passion, honey, it's my goddamn calling."

"God, Ash! You're a walking fucking cock-sleeve aren't you? Took me weeks of practice to manage that feat!"

"Should've asked me for a how-to when you first hooked up, would've saved you some time." She slaps my arm, shaking her head and laughing. "But seriously, well done on bagging that Adonis."

She winks and curtsies and we filter into less salacious topics. Minutes later all five of us are out of the house, and I can't help but smile at the sight of Feather in a skirt and blouse.

*

Today we're going full tourist mode, seeing as many sights and visiting as many notable places as can reasonably be done in a day - if not more. It's a bit surreal for me, inhabiting spaces so familiar they struggle to make me feel anything while my guests point and shout 'wow!' But, really, it's nice. Spending time with all of them and seeing the city through fresh eyes, I really couldn't have asked for a better way to spend the day. Eve is even in charge of the itinerary so I don't so much as need to think for the most part, I just drive the lot of them wherever they want to go and do my best to act as tour guide.

Eve asks for a recommendation as for where to go for dinner, so we go to one of my favorite spots: a beautiful little Thai place that, I think, is family owned and run. The food is fresh and wholesome and delicious and it seems like everyone agrees on that since none of it lasts long on our plates or in our bowls. We catch up on each other's lives over dinner. I hear about Eve and Jay's jobs, and feel a little embarrassed admitting I'm just working a little part time thing, pretty much still surfing off of the settlement money.

"Oh, no, don't be silly. If you can live like that and it's what you want to do, then why the fuck not?" Eve's supportive, but when isn't she?

Saph predictably makes similarly supportive noises while Jay and Feather nod along. I wonder if those two think I'm a lazy jackass, as I often do. I wonder too if they hate me for my fortune, for profiteering off of murder. I wouldn't blame them, I hate myself for it enough of the time.

I try to stop thinking like that, or even about the subject at all.

Saph talks about her job next, before asking after Feather's. The squirrel answers honestly and, this time, without hesitation, perhaps emboldened by our earlier talk. "Sex work."

Saph flinches and flicks her ears, flustered, but recovers quickly, conveying the same sorts of supportive sentiments I shared earlier. After a little back and forth between the two of them Feather asks their own question in a quiet stutter: "so Saph, you're, uh, ace?"

She repels the hesitance with enthusiasm. "Yep! I just, well, how do I put it? I have absolutely no sex drive. I mean, for me, I can find people attractive, fall for people, all of that. I even like snuggling and kissing, touching and feeling to an extent, I just have no interest in, like, actually fucking."

Though Feather asked the question, Eve seems especially enthralled by the answer. "Isn't it wild? There are people like me where sex is like a second language, it's as easy and necessary as breathing," she says, making theatrical gestures with her paws. "Okay, slight exaggeration. But for you, it's, what? Pretty much meaningless?"

"It's, well, I can see how important it is to other people, so even if it means nothing to me personally, it's still something that matters in my life, by context if nothing else. It matters to most of my friends, and most of my exes," she jabs at the leftovers on her plate at the last few word, the tone and volume of her voice dropping noticeably. It gets worse when she speaks again, a bitter sarcasm cutting through her words. "So, yeah, in fact it has played a pretty important role in my life."

Thankfully that's when the waiter comes to take our plates away. We pay - I insist on covering the bill - and the subject dies out. We head home, finally, exhausted, well fed and happy, all ready for a nice quiet night in, with plans for a more exciting evening tomorrow.

Partway through the drive home, Feather speaks up again, the subject clearly not having fled their mind.

"So, Saph, how did you figure it out? That you were ace?"

Saph is riding shotgun, with the three lovers tightly packed in the back. I see her grip tighten on her knee upon hearing the question. I grimace but focus on the road.

"If you're wondering if it took me being sexually assaulted to realize I wasn't into it, then no, it did not." She comes across calm, almost passive, as if it were a dry joke, but I know it's not.

"Oh, god, no. I just, I mean, I- I was just curious." Feather splutters the words out haphazardly, all apologetic and flustered.

Saph flattens out her paws and pats her knees as if dusting them off. "No, I'm sorry. It's just," and her apparent calm gives way as easily as it appeared. "I've had so many people assume I'm ace because I'm a pathetic little rape victim; that abuse is what put me off of sex; that it's just some kind of damage I've sustained." She shakes her head violently, stares out the window at nothing. "They think I'm broken somehow, and that the right kind of healing, or the right partner will one day fix me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I mean, of course you're not implying that. None of you are like that, it's just, it's a sore subject."

"God, Eve, no, no, don't apologize. I didn't even- I totally get it. I shouldn't have-"

"No, but, it's _okay_to ask! I shouldn't blow up at you, I've just, I've had such bad experiences with that, you know?"

"Honey, if there's one thing I can relate to it's other people telling me that there's something inherently wrong with me just because I'm trying to live my life the way I want to live it. Seriously, do not apologize, I get it. Be as angry as you want! Fuck those bitches who said that shit."

Saph sniffs, nods. Eve and Jay add their voices to Feather's. I just reach across to gently pat Saph's thigh as I drive. She takes hold of my paw for just a second, squeezing it, then letting go.

"But, yeah, to answer your question: I figured it out around puberty, I guess. Everyone that age was talking about sex, more than a few were actually having it, girls were rating boys out of ten and boys were doing the same to girls. It wasn't hard to figure out I was different, that I didn't feel the same way about these things as my peers did. It took a good few years to find the right words for it, to find any sense of self or community, but knowing I wasn't interested in sex? That was never a realization, it was an ever present fact."

"Yeah, that... That makes total sense to me actually," Feather says, lapsing into silence.

"The world can be a pretty shitty place for people who don't fit in, huh?" Saph asks, entirely rhetorically.

It's Eve who picks up the loose thread. "It can, but it can be amazing too. I wouldn't give away my queer little life or loved ones for anything."

"Eve, don't you ever get a stomach ache from all that sweetness?" I shoot back, all flippant, but she knows me too well.

"Oh, if you want to see my naughty side, just ask."

*

How did it even get to this point? I was only half listening, lost in a soft spoken aside with Jay - he was telling me in no uncertain terms that he wanted more of me, causing my doubts about last night to retreat ever further and stirring a certain primal desire in me. Being wanted feels good. He says if I want to keep on trying to bottom he'll happily be the one I try it with, and that if I don't succeed he's more than happy for plan B. I don't want come across too easy, or steal him away from his lovers too often so I'm halfway through telling him 'maybe soon, but not tonight' when my attention is wrenched back toward the other three and their conversation.

Wine sloshes up the sides of glasses, people lean in or recline as Saph says: "you wanna know exactly how it happened?"

"Saph," I say on instinct, stern, head twisting to regard her properly, totally tuned in in an instant.

"What?" She snaps, then catches herself, her jaw wobbles, she softens. "Right."

For such an outwardly tender person, Saph has a deep rage inside her. Naturally she has that same fear, disillusionment and anxiety common to me and so many other survivors, but the anger she holds toward her abuser, or any abuser, or anyone giving the impression of being a potential abuser, is far more pointed, vivid, and violent than I would hazard is considered 'normal'. As far as I can tell she has never hurt anyone, but, well, give her a knife, put her in a room with her abuser and tell her anything goes and, well, honestly, she might not even use the knife, but she'd be the only one leaving that room alive.

"A summary would probably do." I suggest, more calmly, hoping to curb a potential outburst. I know she would regret it.

Her paw clenches into a fist around the stem of her wine glass. She closes her eyes, exhales through her nose. The life has drained from the room, it's quiet and a little tense. Everyone is listening, waiting.

"Yeah." She settles a little, orders herself. "I'd been dating him a little while and, to be clear, I was up front about the whole ace thing. We talked about it when we first got close, I told him where my boundaries were, even figured out a few things I would do for him. Some paw stuff. Brief bits of oral on special occasions if he would follow my lead. It doesn't do anything at all for me, in fact I find it all a bit off putting, but, you know, to pleasure a partner, I didn't have a problem with the occasional bit of that. Just, I made it clear not to expect anything more, and even those things I _was_comfortable with weren't to be expected with specific frequency. He acted all nice, said sex wasn't a big deal to him anyway, that he wanted to give it a go with me, told me he loved me. The whole nine yards." Her eyes scrunch shut. She sniffs and rubs the back of her free paw across her eyelids. Her ears are flattened and she leans back in her chair, her lithe frame trembling slightly. "But, yeah. Summary version. We'll skip the, uh, the details. Surprise surprise, it wasn't enough - he was lying - and instead of telling the truth and talking about it, breaking up when he saw no way forward, he pressed on. He brought it up, I reaffirmed my boundaries. In fact I was so into him by that point - we'd been together over a year - that I said I would consider some other non-penetration ideas, even though what we were doing was already a touch more than I would've liked. He pressed me, tried to change my mind, I made it clear that wasn't going to happen and he left it there. He seemed huffy all night but didn't bring it up again. In my naivety I took that as a kind of acceptance. A week later he-" She stops speaking suddenly, whips her head back and forth, downs the rest of her glass of wine and slams it onto the table. "Summary version. It was some random anniversary, fifteen months or something, but he decided to make a big deal out of it, take me for a meal, buy me gifts, get a couple drinks out before coming home. I was tipsy and happy. He suggested I give him a few licks, just a few licks, and he would do the rest. I wasn't exactly enthused about it, but he had been so nice, and I was buzzed and warm and in good spirits." Both her paws are fists pressed tightly to one another at her breast, she stares down at the table, spitting her words out in distaste. "Summary. He decided he wanted more than that. Decided he wouldn't take no for an answer. Pushed me around, shut me up, fucked me. Walked off scot-free. I wanted to take him to court, but we all know what happens when women do that don't we? God, I-" She shakes her head, grits her teeth. I can practically feel the mounting anger radiating off of her.

"Saph." I reach over, put a paw on her shoulder. She shakes it off.

Eyes wide she stares at me, then Jay, Eve, Feather. "I wish, the night he did it, I went over to his flat while he was sleeping, slipped in through the window, knocked him unconscious and sawed his fucking dick off with a bread knife. That's what the bastard deserved!"

I stand in a hurry, feeling lightheaded as the alcohol pumping through my system loudly disagrees with such a sudden movement. "Saph."

She slams the table with a fist, knocking over her now-empty glass, gets to her feet with a grunt, and speeds out of the kitchen with a sobbed "sorry," and nothing else. I'm too slow, too tipsy to follow.

Jay side eyes me, uncertain and hesitant. Feather stares at the toppled glass, body so frozen they appear statuesque. Eve flaps her muzzle silently, then clears her throat, stands, and follows in Saph's wake. "I'm going after her," is all she says, with such determination you'd think the two of them were lifelong friends.

I was about to do the same, but I don't want to crowd Saph. I put my trust in Eve and sit down, slowly. "She's been through a lot," I say, to neither of my guests in particular, to both of them.

"I shouldn't have brought it up," says Feather.

"You didn't know how hard it still hits her."

"Still, I shouldn't have."

*

Saph and Eve come back out after a while; the rest of us are in the living room when they find us, chatting quietly and listening to rap music. This time I'm not so slow to react. I go to hug Saph the moment she arrives and we hold each other tight for a while. She apologizes for her outburst. I tell her it's okay. Jay says it's nothing. Feather is right behind me and hugs her too, apologizing for prying in the first place. The two of them spend a minute comforting one another back and forth and a sense of relief washes over me. Everything is working out today.

Saph and I snuggle on the sofa for half an hour, and I reassure her that nobody thinks the worse of her, that these people understand. She doesn't argue too much. Eve did a good job with her, whatever she said. She always does, it's no surprise. A little while and a few goodnight hugs later she heads off to bed. Jay makes another whispered pass at me, but when I confirm I want a night off at the very least he hits up Eve, licking her neck and talking into her ear. She giggles and touches him and soon enough they're both off to bed too, trying to recruit Feather as they leave, with unsubtle innuendos. The squirrel shares kisses and playful touches with the two of them, but ultimately stays behind, saying they'd rather take it easy and vibe with me a while longer.

Left alone with me, they insert themself beside me on the couch, pressed right up against me, bobbing their head and tail, rapping along with the record as I do the same. Even absent of conversation, we seem to gel so easily. When the side finishes they press a paw to my chest and I realize they're more drunk than I'd thought. "You're nothing like I expected you to be, Ash."

"I don't know whether or not to take that as a compliment. What did you expect of me?"

They pull back a bit. "Put on another record," they say, and I do, selecting something warmer, quieter and all around cozier.

"Well?"

I sit back down and they lean up against me again. "Oh, I don't know. I guess I thought: here comes another prissy bitch with a big house and no real responsibilities, more money than sense on his bourgeoisie bullshit. I'll smile and nod for Eve, try and have some fun, but... no."

My whole body tenses up. There's a caustic edge to Feather's words that leaves me uncomfortable. I feel bad enough already about my money and my relative lack of political zeal. It's not that I don't care, or am entirely ignorant, I just- It hurts to think about how fucked the world is. I hurt enough already that I just want to- I don't know. Maybe I'm selfish. I just want to live and not worry about all this other stuff more than I already do. It's not that I don't think about it at all, or don't care, it's more that... I only let myself think about it so much. I know I have more money than I deserve. I know there are people with nothing suffering while I sit here in my blood-money palace and- Fuck.

"No? Sounds pretty accurate to me."

"Bitch," they enunciate the word in two syllables, slap my shoulder and back up again. "Okay, I wasn't entirely wrong." They cover their mouth with a paw and laugh. "But you're still nothing like I thought. You're thoughtful, funny, sweet. You've been through shit, so has Saph. You two love the hell out of one another and it really shows. Basically, what I'm saying is: for a lazy, over-privileged fag, you're pretty alright."

"Wow, what the hell? That's like the most backhanded compliment ever!" My insides swirl, I'm still unsure what to make of all this.

They laugh again and launch back against me, cuddling me, nose barely apart from the fur of my cheek. "Look, I'm letting you in on the real me: a judgy, bitchy, faggy, lefty, serving cunt daily. Take the hint: it means I like you."

The swirling doesn't stop, but it shifts. I turn my head, muzzle brushing up against theirs but they don't pull away, just stare into my eyes. My chest throbs. They are very pretty. "And you're nothing like I expected you to be."

"And what exactly _did_you expect me to be?"

"I don't know..." I begin, a cruel grin spreading across my muzzle as I play with their anticipation. "Nice?"

They recoil and gasp and I can't help but giggle, neither can they.

"You're just mad I haven't sent you a link to my OnlyFur."

I lift my paws up in surrender. "Guilty. Am I getting any closer?"

"Why would you need a link to nudes when I'm sitting right here?" They're all sultry now, running a paw down their chest, presenting themself to me. "You could just take off all my clothes." My eyes widen, and my maw hangs open. I fail to form any words. They stand and shake their head and laugh once, making for the door. "I'll catch you in the morning, sugar."

"Goodnight Feather," I say, and I want to say more, and I struggle, and almost fail. Almost. "I'll keep that idea in mind."

They smile, nod, and leave.