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For Koshne. Merry Christmas. Better late than never, right?

In Treatment

Part III - The Release

2010 by Eldyran

As Judge Carver steered the off road jeep up the narrow mountain hillside, thick fluffy snow flakes skidded across the windshield and hood. His wrinkled paws jittered on the wheel every time the 4x4's all-terrain tires rebounded off a frozen rut. The trail winding around the mountain ahead of him didn't even have the luxury of gravel.

The wizened badger glanced out the driver's side window and to the sudden drop off running precariously alongside his slipping front wheels. A sudden snowy gust almost nudged the small jeep off the road before Carver could correct. His dull yellow eyes looked over his thick bifocals and down ... and down.

Three thousand feet below, jagged granite boulders lined the valley's bottom.

Judge Carver didn't seem concerned about the winter weather or the difficult driving conditions. He glanced instead at the two heaping sacks of groceries sitting in the passenger seat next to him. Some times blizzard conditions forced officials to air drop supplies to the isolated rehabilitation facility.

No. This weather was not all that uncommon here in the remote Sierras. And when it allowed, the Judge liked to personally drop off provisions and see how the current batch of offenders had adjusted to the unorthodox reform program.

There was only one repeat offender in treatment this week; a rather unruly and degenerate coyote who had bounced between mental health and correctional facilities for too long. The petty delinquent had played the court system for years, knowing the best angle to portray himself at any given parole hearing or court appearance.

This coyote hadn't even committed any felonies, yet anyway. The list of gross misdemeanors had grown steadily over the years, just enough for the coyote to stay behind bars for brief stints. The Establishment's own convoluted rules forced itself to provide shelter and three squares to someone who had never worked an honest day his entire life.

This was not Justice. This was not Judge Carver's way.

Instead a rather anal retentive Public Defender had suggested this controversial treatment. Despite its unsystematic and unseemly methods, instigated by Ms. Starling herself, the Rehabilitation Facility boasted a 95% reform rate.

The other 5% could only be considered a failure if they never returned from intensive care to complete their single week's stint at the Sierras Facility.

The facility's director, a real ursine piece, still worked off his own plea bargain. Everyone else lacked the balls or the means to fix the worst delinquents sent to him on a weekly basis. Judge Carver darkly wondered how the bear managed to keep his wits all these years; seeing the same types of societal rejects come in week in and week out.

It was a special kind of penitentiary hell, designed for the worst offenders with actual criminal records.

So today, on day three of the current week, Judge Carver drove up the mountain to see just how the coyote and bear were getting along. After an hour of arduous driving, the old badger pulled off into a small clearing cut out of the mountain's east side. Here, sheltered from the worst of the prevailing high altitude winds, an abandoned logging camp sat forsaken in rusty disuse.

Heaps of snow covered most of the discarded and ancient felling machinery. Deep billows and drifts sat undisturbed in small alcoves of fresh evergreen regrowth. Aside from wind eroded footsteps going to the woodpile and snaking back to the outhouse, the 'facility' looked uninhabited. Judge Carver mashed the clutch and put the snow spattered jeep into park with a soft lurch. He paused for a moment before switching off the ignition.

The heater died instantly. A few seconds later the bitter cold of high altitude exposure seeped through the thin glass around him.

Carver ignored the complaints of his throbbing joints and, after tucking a newspaper into his thick winter coat, scooped of the two bags next to him. The jeep's door opened with a heavy creak. Carver's feet sunk into the fluffy billows as he got stiffly out, threatening to swallow the tops of the Judge's boots. The badger adjusted his weight as he slammed the driver's side door shut. The whistling wind blowing through the tops of the pines around him muted the metallic bang.

Carver listened. He wondered if anyone had heard the jeep pull up. The only sound that greeted him was the empty chorus of desolation and hard time.

Still, if a person found inner dedication and applied themselves, everything required for simple survival could be found here: Food. Water. Shelter. Warmth. Yes. Any time spent here was done so in rugged isolation. But it was time meant to discover and build character. Not stifle it.

When no one came out of the leaning one story cabin, Carver fought way through the two foot high snowbanks to head for the front door. As he approached, he noticed the wind had blown its screen door off a one of its two rusty hinges. Someone had patched holes between the rotten boards of the cabin's outer walls with frozen mud and slush. Though one of the cracked windows, the light of a fire flickered dimly through years of built up dust and grime.

Carver nudged the broken screen door out of his way and forced the stuck door open with a sore shoulder. He didn't need to knock. Those sent to this forsaken hell had given up innate rights such as privacy.

A heavy set Kodiak sitting at a lopsided wooden table looked up non-nonchalant from a week old paper to the sudden commotion. The rickety chair under his brawny weight at flexed at recently fixed breaks. No one could have guessed that the Kodiak broke it across a certain coyote's back three hours prior.

"Judge." The chocolate colored bear wearing worn thin red and black checkerboard flannel acknowledged simply before flipping a page and returning to his paper.

The bruised coyote standing next to the cooking fire preparing skillets turned bashfully to the old badger. His cheeks burned with embarrassment under the clean fur there. A bushy tail curled a little, sweeping the back of his bare ass. Aside from a tattered apron, the coyote was nude.

"I see you boys are getting along just fine." Carver's cracked lips curled in sassy smile.

* * * * *

Breakfast consisted mainly of freshly caught salmon and some of the eggs Carver had brought up with him. The delicious smells of fried fish and scrambled eggs filled the small cabin. The two ate hearty before allowing the standing coyote to scoop up the dirty plates and clear the table. While Carver handed over this week's paper to the gruff ursine, the coyote cleaned the plates in a dented tin wash bucket.

"The Coyotes lost again." Carver leaned back against his chair with a dry creak.

"No surprise there." The bear snorted before briefly flipping through the sports section. He folded it back and placed it on the table once he was satisfied. The two at the table sipped at their coffee in comfortable silence, the soft swish of dirty water the only sound in the room.

"Do you have any requests for tools? More clothes?" The badger cleaned off his glasses on his shirt. The un-named bear rubbed his jowls a for a moment in reflection.

"No. I think we're good on clothes. Maybe a sharpening stone for the axe you brought up last year."

"No kerosene heater in case you get snowed in? An emergency weather radio?" Carver put his glasses back on, studying the bear's expression with squinting eyes.

"If we get cold, we'll cut more wood. The radio requires batteries. And its not like we get a lot of sun up here in the winter to power a solar one."

"You know, the county administrators always worry if there was a major accident up here. There's no way to get a hold of someone."

"The closest ranger station is less than two miles away on the logging trail. And I've been here, what? Five years? No accidents yet, just ... incidents." The bear scratched at his off white underbelly through the flannel with thick, uneven claws.

At the mention of the ranger station, Chris' ears perked. His over-sized, wet paws froze in the wash pail. Were they really less than two miles away from civilization?

"Speaking of which, has the board considered my request?" Kody, the placeholder name Chris had given his captor, scratched at the table with a single index claw, hopeful.

"They're looking into it." Carver folded his arms across his chest. "Ms. Starling had to pull a lot of strings just to get you here."

"I know. Its just been five years ..." Kody closed his eyes, his deep voice trailing off.

Chris tried not to snoop. But it was hard. The taciturn ursine's past felt like a unspoken puzzle. Each little piece that fell into place just stoked the coyote's inborn curiosity more and more. Chris realized what he was doing and quickly finished off the last of the plates in the wash bucket before setting them to dry.

"You've done some amazing work up here." The judge reassured. "I'm running out of petty thugs to send you. My docket is clear next month."

"Really?"

"Chris is the only one up here right now, isn't he?" The coyote turned around to Carver's mention of him. He clasped his paws in front of his water spotted and ratty apron meekly, but did not say anything.

"I guess so."

There was another comfortable pause as the bear mulled over the unspoken praise.

"And just how is his rehabilitation going?" Carver looked over to the mollified coyote. The one who not a week earlier had called him 'douchewit' and 'bender' in his own courtroom. The creases of the Kodiak's flews bunched as his square jaw tightened. It was a sick sort of smirk, aimed at the coyote.

"Why don't you show him, Chris?"

The coyote exchanged a questioning look, following the bear's eyes as he glanced back and forth at the badger's lap expectantly. Chris stepped closer to the Judge, then hesitated.

"Don't make me tell you twice, Prairie Wolf." The bear's look hardened.

Chris' adam's apple bobbed with a imperceptible gulp. He knelt before the Lawgiver and with shaking, uneasy paws, undid the Judge's belt. Carver unfolded his arms with the light hint of surprise playing across his masked face, but the grizzled badger didn't actually object. Perhaps this had happened before.

Carver's claws dug into the wood of his chair as the coyote pulled own his zipper and opened up the fly of his pants. The lanky canid pulled down the front of the badgers boxers and shoved his nose deep into the musky fur there. The touch of the Chris' wet nose against his sheath sent a soft gasp through Carver. Chris closed his eyes, ears pinned against the back of his skull before his tongue gave small licks to the badger's sheath.

The bear's sick smile widened.

It wasn't like this little cock slave needed much prompting. All the coyote needed was the proper motivation and his submissive streak came out. The twisted part of all this was the look on Chris' muzzle. It was the look of both humiliation and savor. The way the tip of Chris' canid tongue flicked about, teasing Carver's dick out of hiding left no doubt.

This act was both punishment and reward, all rolled into one.

Chris' muzzle slipped over Carver's pink tip the second it slipped out. His lips suckled on it, his taste buds delighting with the tang of Carver's dripping, well earned arousal. The coyote's paws squeezed the old badgers jeans near the hips as more and more length slipped into his waiting muzzle. He started to bob when he felt Carver's paws grip his ears, the hips under his lips bucking a little.

Kody couldn't help but rub his tingling crotch through his thick denim overalls. Damn it was hot watching the little groveling bitch blow the same guy who sent him up here. The coyote was really getting into it too. Kody could tell by the way the coyote's tail swished back and forth a little. He wouldn't be surprised if the little slut dribbled all over the dirty floor.

Indeed, a thin thread of drooling precum did connect coyote to the small puddle growing underneath him, but the dingy apron hid it well. That didn't stop the kneeling coyote from slobbering all over Carver's knob, the quickening rhythmic slurps filling the otherwise quiet cabin.

Carver was in heaven. Or if not, a good second rate knock off. The badger's claws cupped the coyote's skull, claws digging into the flesh there. It was deep enough to make the coyote grimace, but Chris knew better than to cut the badger with his sharp teeth.

And besides, Chris had a lot of practice over the past 72 hours.

Kody leaned over and pushed the back of Chris' skull forward. The fleshy tip of Carver's cock slipped past the sensitive rings of Chris' larynx and down the back of his throat. Chris sputtered and flailed some as he choked on the badger's thick meat. But Kody didn't stop there. He used the entire pad of his massive ursine paw to ram the coyote's tight flexing throat back and forth over Carver's sensitive tip.

Chris' paws gripped the back of Carver's knees on instinct. His eye's fluttered as he tried not to choke on the girth invading his airway. The rhythmic sputters and gurgles filled the backwoods kitchen, desperate like a snuff film's star. Kody's muzzle lips tightened, eyes glinting at the demented sound. He was pretty close to blowing his own load just listening to Chris.

This went on for several minutes. Long enough for Chris to start seeing stars behind the backs of his eyes.

For an extra bit of sass Kody picked up the squirming coyote by the base of his tail. He lifted Chris off his knees, seesawing the canid a little in the air with each heave of his meaty bicep. Chris' hind legs scrambled about. Tears rolled down the corner of his eyes, straining to even breath. A little bit of snot leaked out of the yote's flexing nostrils to mat down the judges' pubic fur.

Carver's head rolled back across his chair. His claws dug into the coyote's head even more, feeling another paw helping his own sending the badger over the erotic edge. It had been a long time since something like this happened, since his partner Samuel passed away. The badger's teeth gritted. The buck of his hips grew erratic. Kody knew what that meant.

Kody pushed Chris forward, sheathing Carver's thick dick in spasming, hot, tight yote throat. The Kodiak held the canid there, watching the badger thrust into the suspended yote's muzzle one last time. Carver hissed out as his hot load shot straight into the squirming bitch's stomach.

Express style.

Kody fought to keep the gagging coyote's muzzle planted firmly around the Judge's meat. Once the Kodiak was satisfied, he yanked Chris away and dumped him off to the side with a dull meaty thud. Chris sputtered, coughed. He wiped the snot from his nose even as thick cum dripped off his lips to land on his apron. Kody leaned back into his chair and re-laced his claws over his chest. Carver fought to regain composure. The pupils of his eyes kept dancing about, catching his breath.

The three continued to sit there, no words spoken. As if anything really needed to be said. Kody broke the silence when he noticed a small amount of yote phlegm covering Carver's junk. He leaned over and swatted the back of the coyotes head, hard. Chris saw stars again.

"Clean that shit up." Kody pointed to the mixture of jizz and snot running down Carver's softening erection.

"Yes Sir."

Chris crawled back over to the place of his forced asphyxiation, and without hesitating, used his long canid tongue to lick the judge clean. Chris took his time, even looking up to the badger, his eyes seeking silent, questioning approval. Carver looked over to Kody, impressed.

"So what do you think Judge?"

"I think he's responding to the treatment well so far ..."

* * * * *

After Carver had left Kody made Chris clean the kitchen with a hand crafted broom. It had been a long time since anyone swept. Once that was done, Chris went about organizing the closets and changing Kody's bed sheets as instructed.

Chris felt a little self conscious stepping up to the door to Kody's room. The coyote felt small and insignificant next to its monolithic, featureless shape. His shaking paw reached out to touch its iron handle. It felt loose with age and neglect. He opened the door with an ominous wooden creak.

The inside of Kody's room looked different than Chris expected. Kody's bed formed its centerpiece. It looked warm and inviting. A decorative deerskin laid across the king bed's winter blankets. The bear had whittled intricate carvings into its huge, home crafted headboard. The sight of its two fluffy pillows immediately made Chris want to lay his weary head down and fall asleep.

A sudden flush of guilt swept over Goldilocks.

The hand crafted frames dotting the thin cabin walls rattled as the brutal wind outside whistled past. More carvings. More untamed wilderness backdrop. Not a single photograph of family or friends. Who was this bear exactly, and what did he do to be sent here?

Aside from an oak chest and a few shelves decorated with even more small wooden trinkets, the room was otherwise clean and uncluttered. The only peculiar item that looked somewhat out of place was a crusty rag hanging on a rusty nail by the side of the bed. Its musky scent announced its purpose pretty clear.

Chris made a tenuous step inside. The howl of the wind outside rose and fell. Chris made a few more steps. He felt like he invaded Kody's privacy somehow, despite the Kodiak telling him to change his sheets. Chris made it to the king sized bed after much trepidation. He removed the pillows. He pulled off the heavy, thick bedding. He absently wondered where the bear kept his wrapped chocolate mints.

The coyote looked in the bear's closet for the change of linens, his curious tail swishing the back of his legs. A few more overalls and a smattering of basic toiletries filled the dark recess, but Chris didn't see any spare sheets or blankets. He closed the door, peering around the cozy room. He stooped under the bed, but didn't see anything under it but dust bunnies.

Chris went over to the chest and lifted its heavy lid. He smiled in triumph at the neatly folded sheets and blankets. His paws scooped in and pulled them out with haphazard zeal. In his rush, he must have scooped up some other things too. He made it halfway to the bed when a small scrapbook tumbled to the floor, open. The coyote looked back even as he dumped off the new bedding.

His whiskers twitched. Chris knew he shouldn't snoop.

But it wasn't like it was the first time a coyote did something he knew he shouldn't do.

Chris picked up the scrapbook and flipped through it. He caught the barest hints of far away friends, long removed family, and a long forgotten place somewhere in Colorado. Half the pictures contained truck stops next to scenic highways, picturesque mountain roads winding through vast stretches of wilderness, and some of a bright red Peterbuilt 379.

Kody always stood next to it, pride beaming across his short snout. The semi-trailer's load behind it was as varied as the locations Kody drove through: Sometimes it was fresh cut timber. Sometimes it was gravel. Sometimes it was heavy equipment.

The pictures ended abruptly, replaced by a few newspaper clippings. In one of the black and white photos, the crushed cab of Kody's 379 lay sideways on a winding and snowy mountain road, its haul scattered down the mountainside. The bent front axle of a passenger van sat in the foreground. Chris only read its headline.

Family of five killed in tragic Semi-trailer turnover.

A massive ursine paw put itself over the clipping and took it away. The startled coyote yipped and hopped back, awaiting admonishment. The dour Kodiak instead threw the scrapbook back into the chest and closed its lid. His head dipped for a moment, if in remembrance, then padded toward the kitchen. He paused at its threshold, not bothering to even look back. The shaggy coat on the back of his neck looked bristled.

"We aren't here to brood. We are here to pay our debts to society." When the coyote didn't say anything, the Kodiak turned his head. The repentant look in his big brown eyes almost made Chris want to cry. "It doesn't matter what you did. Here, the only thing that matters is what you make of yourself. We are lucky to be offered a second chance. Don't squander it."

There was a long pause.

"Yes Sir."

Kody left Chris to think about what he needed to do.

* * * * *

An hour passed before Chris made his way back to the kitchen. Kody sat at his usual seat, absorbed in the same whittling project Chris noticed since his arrival. The huge bear looked absorbed in scraping the small totem trinket to perfection. Chris stood there for several minutes, not wanting to bother Kody when he was busy.

"Did you finish getting my sheets on?"

"Yes Sir."

"Did you sort through all the winter gear?"

"Yes Sir."

"Alright. You're not needed anymore. Go to your room and sit."

Kody's knife continued to scrape away. He blew out some shavings out of one crook before reassessing his work. He wanted it to be perfect. The bear stopped when he realized the coyote still stood there.

"Hey gutter dog. Clean out your ears. Didn't you hear me?" Kody shot Chris an annoyed sideways glance. The coyote nodded, but didn't move. He seemed to be trembling. Kody put the woodworking down. His claws tightened. When the canid didn't move, the bear pushed his angry bulk away from the table and stood up.

"No. I don't think you did. Remember what I said about making me say it twic ...."

The Kodiak paused when he noticed a slight tent forming in the coyote's apron. Kody cocked his head a little and squinted. Yes, at the tent's peak a spot of spreading yote pre seeped through. There was no mistaking the coyote's arousal.

Was the coyote deliberately tempting a beating?

Kody muscled his way over to Chris, his huge ursine paws clenching and unclenching with mounting rage. He stooped down, bearing over the trembling coyote. His broad nose got within centimeters of Chris's face. The bear snorted hard. Hard enough to make the cowering bitch flinch. Kody's paw shot out with little warning and squeezed the prick tenting outward.

"What the FUCK is this?" This close, the Kodiak's rumbling whisper sounded more like rolling thunder.

When the coyote didn't answer him, the tips of Kody's thick claws dug deep into Chris' delicate sex. The coyote's ears folded back in pain, his whine pleading. But Kody be damned if the little fucker's dick hardened under the rough treatment. Kody looked down to the tale tell blotch of wet arousal spreading across the apron.

Like a Pavlovian dog, this whore drooled all over himself.

Kody yanked on Chris' cock. He even started slapping the back of the coyote's head.

"What. You like that? Huh?"

Chris' eyes teared up with shame. He tried not to whine. But who was he kidding. His rehabilitationist was right: he was just a little gutter dog. And he needed to be taught some respect.

"Answer me or so help me ..." Kody sent a meaty fist straight into Chris' solar plexus. It doubled over the wheezing coyote. The towering Kodiak picked up the breathless mongrel by the scruff and shook the dangling, sniveling bitch around a little. Chris yelped and his hind legs scrambled about the air.

"I ... like it ...!" Chris yarped out, ears pinning to the back of his head. Kody stopped thrashing him about before lowering Chris down in front of him, facing away. The bear paused for a moment, but his huge lungs continued to drag in and force out air in steady, heated rhythm.

Chris just stood there in the long, silent seconds. His tail hid between his legs. He waited for the towering Kodiak to say something, anything.

"Now we are getting somewhere." Kody rumbled. His large brown eyes narrowed; Not in cruelty, but in aroused desire to discipline. He tore off the coyote's meager, yet still degrading, covering. It left the coyote stark naked. "Tell me what you did wrong."

"I didn't obey the one who is trying to help me." Kody tried to suppress a grin.

"And we both know its not because you want to disobey, is it?" Kody's paw moved up to stroke the coyote's laid back ears, whispering. Chris sniffed and closed his eyes with a hesitant nod. "And since you want it but are disobeying to get it, you force me to be twice as hard. Are we clear on this?" Kody's huge paw clamped around Chris' sensitive ears, tightening.

"We are clear on this." Chris whimpered.

"We are clear on this, what?"

"We are clear on this, Sir!" Chris straightened and stopped sniveling. Kody took a deep inhale and patted the coyote's back.

"Good pup ..." The bear rumbled, before shoving the unexpected coyote forward, hard.

Chris flopped forward onto the wood table, tail raised trying to balance. His ears perked when they heard the bear's fly zip down. Chris almost turned his head before remember what happened yesterday. When his head didn't turn too look, Kody let his overall's flop to the ground and stroked the yote's back.

A second later, Chris felt a massive ursine paw grip his scruff. When he didn't get the hint right away, Kody pulled back, making the loose skin around the coyote's eyes stretch tight. It distorted the look on his face, stretched tight in pain and strain. Chris realized his failure to heed the prompt and raised his tail higher.

He even winked his tight pucker for Kody, who growled a little with delight.

"Yeah. That's what I like to see. Now tell me what your problem is. Why I'm going to fuck you until you bleed."

"Because bad pups don't listen to those who are trying to help them?"

"That's right." Kody grabbed the base of Chri's tail and hoisted the rear of forward leaning coyote up so he couldn't scramble around. Chris' claws dug into the nicked up table with a soft bark of surprise as he felt the bear's huge cockhead touch his sore entrance. "That is your problem. Here's the treatment!"

In one deft motion Kody sheathed his raging hard on deep into Chris.

Slicked by the last load the bear dumped into him not a few hours ago and with gravity working against him, Chris' ass gave no resistance. One second, Chris had been suspended in the air. The next Kody's huge cock speared him. The sudden slam of his ass against the bear's lower gut sent a hard jar deep into the coyote's bruise prostate. It sent a gout of hot pre exploding out of Chris' tapered tip to land splat across the scuff up table.

Kody pulled back even harder on Chris' scruff, forcing his back to arch. The bear half thrusted, half impaled the whining coyote over and over again on his throbbing need. A meaty slap echoed about the kitchen with each sweaty heave. Chris' hind legs gave an involuntary kick every time Kody's girth thundered past that oversensitive lump tightening just above the coyote's balls.

Chris grimaced as best he could despite the pull on his facial skin and fur. Kody's length started coming out slathered in streaks of blood. But Chris deserved, practically begged for it. It was hard to tell whether the clipped barks coming out of the coyote's muzzle were pain or pleasure. One of Chris's paws sneaked down to grasp the base of his growing knot. He gave it a hard squeeze while getting fucked in mid air. It felt so good. He squirted again, spaying the table in front of him more.

Kody was wise to this, however, and slammed Chris' head into the growing pool. One of the table's legs cracked from the impact. For a little bit of sass the Kodiak lifted his gut and placed it on the stunned coyote's ass before resuming the brutal rut. The way Kody had Chris bent around the table lip, there was no way the yote could get his paw under him to beat off.

"Don't even think about it, Prairie Wolf." Kody leaned forward and snorted into Chris' furry ear, which flinched. "You're going to get off the only way fucked up little submissives like you can be allowed: Paws free."

Chris whined a little in hopeless desperation. He actually wanted to enjoy this one. That's when Chris' jade eyes went wide with horrified realization.

He liked what the bear was doing to him.

Chris may not have agreed to coming here, but by Franklin, he was starting to see what Carver and Starling wanted out of him. If he was going to shirk off any personal responsibility, then he should similarly expect loss of basic privileges. How inconsiderate of him to burden Kody with his slack baggage and wanton disrespect for established structure.

And pounding into him some respect for proper order was just what Kody was doing.

The bear's jowls flexed as he slammed into the coyote's ass harder and harder. He had given up on holding up the coyote by the scuff and instead gripped his hips on each side. He loved looking down and watching himself hilt smaller canid. It felt even better than it looked.

And the best part about it, Chris started pushing back despite the thick fist pumping hard into his bowels. Yeah the little fuck wanted it bad; Bad enough to fully submit. Kody leaned forward with a hard grunt and let gravity drive him even deeper. The cleft of the yote's ass tickled his belly button. The unexpected crack and splinter of wood perked both their ears.

The sudden drop as the overburdened table broke was not.

They fell forward with the caved table, caught off guard with short barks and roars of surprise. Had Kody not reached out and caught himself at the last second, he would have crushed Chris' ribs with his bulk. They both looked around for a split second at the dust and wood flecks swirling about the disturbed air.

The bear adjusted his wide hips and went right back to pounding some well used yote hole. Chris' claws dug into the broken wood under him, nails gouging lines into it. His muzzle looked contorted as Kody used most of his mass to drive right into his pleasure zone. Their positioning trapped Chris' gorged sex between what was left of the table, the floor, and his own belly. It ground away at the scuffed wood with each quick jab of the bear's hips.

Each time it mashed and dragged the bear's huge dick back and forth against the coyote's prostate. Chris' eyes bulged at the intense feeling spiraling out of control above his nuts. His inside's squeezed tight like a vice. This fuck was feral, driving him over the edge. He couldn't take it anymore.

Chris' crushed tip exploded underneath him, soaking his belly's under fur in musky yote seed.

Kody felt Chris' hole tighten around him, and the bear's flews flexed as his short muzzle opened. The ear splitting, guttural roar shook the flimsy cabin walls. Empty tin cans rattled on the hand made shelves. From outside some of the snow on the roof avalanched off. A startled mountain bluebird flew off a snow covered limb.

Chris' ears flopped at the sudden wetness bursting through deep inside his guts. It felt like the bear's load seeped all the way up through to his stomach. Was that even possible? Kody just held himself there, reveling in this moment. His mammoth frame shook. His muscles twitched. His fat rippled.

After a minute of reclaiming his wits, the ursine pulled out of the cream filled yote with surprising gentleness. Kody made his stiff way to the icebox and poured himself some fresh river water from a cracked ceramic pitcher. He absently scratched at the small nub of his tail while looking out one window. He seemed to be thinking about having Chris split more wood. Aside from the crumpled coyote laying in the remains of a broken kitchen table, it seemed like business as usual.

Chris lay there for several minutes, unable to move. A small trickle of blood and cum leaked out his ripped tail hole to pool on the floor behind him.

"Clean off the table before you fix it." The bear sipped some more water, but never took his eyes off the window. Was that a bluebird?

Chris pealed himself off the floor and without hesitation started licking up the sticky blotch under him. His muzzle scrunched at the fishy taste of his own sperm. It must have been that raw Salmon he had yesterday. Undaunted, he ignored the deep flare of pain ripping through him and continued to lap up his own gizz.

If he could build his own bed, then this shattered table couldn't be that much harder to fix. The tricky part would putting some of that rusty equipment outside to good use. If he was a good, productive pup, then the bear might even let him bathe in the nearby river. If the bear was kind, he'd allow him to warm himself by the fire afterward.

He didn't want to be covered in fishy spunk. He wanted to be clean. He wanted to be dressed. He wanted to be warm. A smile crept across the coyote's muzzle before Chris even realized it. He stopped to think about what he was really doing.

He was taking responsibility for himself.

Chris shook his fur out and got to his shaky feet. He limped outside in the snow to find a working saw. Naked. With cum and blood leaking from under his tail. There was only two hours left of daylight.

He had a lot to get done before he could start on his own bed.

* * * * *

Three days later Chris stood outside in the clearing with Kody, saying his goodbyes to his captor, his savior, his new friend.

Small flakes of snow drifted out of the shifting gray clouds above to skirt the crusty layer already on the ground. The bluebird that had hung around sang out across the clearing. It was about ten degrees below freezing, but the coyote's thick winter clothes and boots kept the chill at bay. Overall, it was a gorgeous winter day. Chris was almost sorry to leave.

Kody seemed cool about the whole affair, not even offering a single hug in return for all the loads he dumped into Chris. Instead he grinned as Chris checked the pockets of his flannel vest to make sure he had everything the bear gave him: A swish army knife. A spool of fishing line. A sharpening stone. A compass.

A look of confusion swept across Chris' muzzle as he felt something else in one of the larger pocket's. He fished the odd wooden shape out and examined it. Kody's smile widened with satisfaction with how far Chris had come since first stepping off the bus a week ago.

It was the miniature totem pole Kody had been working on since day one. At the very bottom, the slender face of a coyote smirked at him. Above it, the stern face of a wolf leered back. On top, a placid bear stared back, withholding judgment. Chris' paw tips turned the decoration over, inspecting its craftsmanship.

"I can understand why Brother Wolf sits atop Coyote, but why is Bear at the very top?" Chris asked, a small puff of hot breath escaping his muzzle lips.

"Why do you think?" Kody winked back at him, his huge paws sitting in the worn pockets of his overalls.

The two shared a short laugh.

"The bus will be here soon." The bear's look turned dour. "Promise me I wont see you up here again."

Chris bit his lip. He forced back tears. Kody had given him so much. Was this promise too hard to keep?

"I can't make a promise to someone I don't know." Kody didn't understand what Chris meant at first. "Who do I make this promise to?" Chris didn't think Kody was the sentimental, touchy feely type. He risked putting his paw up on the bear's broad shoulders.

The questing look in Kody's big brown eyes disappeared. The smile returned.

"James." He said simply. "Make the promise to James."

"Well, James. I can't promise to be perfect. I might relapse." The corners of Chris' muzzle lips curled in a devious way.

"Well, Chris. In that case, come back for some more treatment. My office is always open." They smiled at each other for a few long seconds, not really needing to say anything more.

Chris turned abruptly and headed south through the deep snow.

"Hey, were you headed? The bus isn't here yet." James huffed. Chris turned back with a shrug, looking up at the sky.

"Eh. I thought I might take the logging trail down the mountain, myself." He placed emphasis on the last word. James nodded, pleased. Without another word Chris turned and left.

About a quarter of the way down he stopped to get his bearings, eating some snow to quench his thirst. The logging trail cut a clear path down the mountain once Chris had found the ranger station. The sudden roar of a diesel engine caught Chris' attention, and through the pines, he caught occasional glimpses of the yellow prison bus bouncing up the dirt road. As it made its precarious way up to the logging camp, Chris made out a few at the back of the bus, dressed in prisoner orange.

They don't have a clue what they are in for. Chris thought to himself, smiling with a demented sort of nostalgia. He continued his way down to the valley below, ready for his fresh start ...

* * * * *

Epilogue:

Six Months Later

Chris shuffled his uneasy feet about as he glanced at the number on the motel door. His steel toed boots made the anxious dance sluggish, but he was too nervous flicking the postcard back and forth to really care. He compared it to the door again.

Room Twenty-Three.

It was the end of February. Melting snow from the parking lot trickled to the winding highway at his back. A logging truck roared past, its motor growling in protest as the driver engine braked around the curve. Chris was lucky the logging foreman understood his need for time off despite their quota picking up. The coyote felt about his checkered flannel, wondering if he forgot anything back at camp.

He felt a little odd showing up here. Dressed in work clothes bought with hard earned money.

Chris tucked away the postcard in one of his shirt pockets before raising a clenched paw to knock at the door. At the last moment, he chickened out. He rubbed his jaw in frustration. His tail jerked about. What was he worried about? Surely the Judge hadn't mentioned a few misplaced wallets at his camp. They turned up eventually. With cash and everything.

So what if their driver license pictures somehow got put up at the local leather daddy biker bar?

The door to the dark hotel room burst open without warning. A huge, angry Kodiak paw clenched the front of his work flannel and picked him off his feet. After the surprised look washed away a split second later, the coyote' muzzle lips curled. With a soft yelp the meaty bicep hauled him through the door.

It slammed shut, muffling the beatings and bed spring creaks just inside.

~ Fin ~