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This is a piece of original furry fiction by me David Bennett. All characters in this story with the exception of Billy Black, are my property. Billy Black was used at the request and permission of Turrent Wolf AKA Ravewolfzero. All of the other characters are my creation and are subject to my copyright. If you wish to use one of the characters from my novel, then please notify me before hand.

This story, and not necessarily this chapter, contains some sexual content of an extreme and unusual nature; I.E. watersports, inter-species sex as in human to furry sex, incest, and some rape to come later. If any of these topics offend you, then please look away. If you are offended by gay relationships or gay sex, then please turn away. If some bisexual content or heterosexual content offends you, then these stories aren't for you. Otherwise if none of the above bothers you, then by all means continue reading this book.

If you are under the age of 18 or 21 in your given area, please cease reading these chapters. They are for people over the age of 18 and 21. If you are of age, then you may continue.

If you like what you read, then email me at [email protected] .

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Chapter 2:

Revolution

"Get in the truck!" My Father barked at me from the drivers seat. Already he was yelling at me! I looked him in the eyes and narrowed them. I wasn't in the mood to deal with my father's tirades today.

"Godsdammit, I'm in the truck, if you would give me-" I tried to say before he slammed on the accelerator and we were flying (literally) down the road. The sudden jerk caused me to fall onto my seat all crooked and uncomfortable. My left shoulder took the bench seat kind of hard, and my legs got all tangled up, plus the tip of my tail almost got caught in the door. "Dammit," I thought "Here we go and this is only the beginning too.". The seats of the ARMY issue hover truck were synthetic leather and very irritating to the skin and fur, especially if you rub against it too much. Basically I had given my arm a good forearm burn on the fabricated leather. I still say nothing beats the real thing.

I looked over at my father, my headband tails falling in my face as I did so, I sneered slightly. He didn't really care. Sure he loved me, but he didn't like me and I sure as hell didn't like him anymore. After taking a few sharp turns I finally righted myself and strapped myself in. For about 15 minutes I just sat there, just looking at the houses and neighborhoods go by as we passed them. I wasn't really interested in them; I was more interested in what my dad had planned. I looked back over to him, and saw him drive as if I wasn't even there. I had to admit that there wasn't much to admire about my dad. Even the least selective gays out there weren't attracted to him. It wasn't that he was ugly or fat or anything, it was just really hard to be attracted to this guy. I consciously thought about that, about how much my Father's appearance repulsed me. His hair was shaved military short, and he would look like a Doberman if he had the brown on his muzzle. He had the ears, but not the muzzle. He wore his military green field commander uniform; the sleeves rolled up baring his large athletic arms. His arms were a nice feature, but they were too bulky, and were just - tools as I saw them. His arms weren't the same ones that once held me as a baby, or the same arms that openly embraced me in hugs 8 years ago. No, those arms were arms of hate, and arms of power. They were meant to be the first and last thing you saw if you ever got on my Father's bad side while he was unarmed.

Continuing to look, I saw the green and black patch of our flag on his right shoulder, his rank patch beneath. The rank was of a Delta symbol , pointing upwards. He had matching metal ones on his shoulders made of platinum, a metal that shined whenever the sun hit it. His symbol was that of a Colonel. My Father was indeed a soldier - not that I cared. He had a commander's cover on his head, a matching green hat that came to points at the top. That hat made him look more commanding than nurturing. My father had tired eyes of brown, eyes that had faded form their former grandeur from years of life and war. Those eyes didn't look at mine, they just stayed focused on the road.

I looked down towards his waist, he had on his field belt, equipped with his MM-475 hand rifle. He had spare batteries in their clips, but it was the brown and black weapon that loomed out menacingly. I unconsciously gulped, as my right foot tensed up. I remembered. I remembered what it was like to feel the "bite of bane" as some called it. The MM-475 fires a high powered lazer blast of energy that can be lethal up to 200 yards. The gun looks like a normal pistol, only with a longer barrel to compensate for the added distance. Even though I couldn't see it, I could bet that my father had a C.E.L.T.S (Creature Eliminating Laser Targeting System) attached to the underside of the body of that beast that lay against his right hip. That same beast took a bite out of me 6 years prior. It was I bite that I never wanted to feel again. I had angered my father during one of his visits, and he was drunk anyhow. I forgot what I did to make him so mad, but all I remember is he pulled the MM-475 out from his holster and fired at my feet. I still to this day don't think he intended to hit me that time, but he did. The bluish white lazer tore though my ancle and split my Achilles tendon, causing my hamstring to snap up into my calf. The wound, though cauterized, was still wide enough for my blood to pour all over the living room floor that night. My own screams were coming back to me as I remembered what it was like to have my bones and muscles vaporized in microseconds. The damage was pretty bad when I checked into Mount Glory Hospital. The doctors back then were really good, and they checked me out, performing many surgeries on my 12 year old foot that had been blasted by a drunken bastard of a father. I had to walk on crutches afterward for 6 months, and had to learn how to walk again - let alone swim. For the past few years, my foot would tense up randomly, making walking nearly impossible. Around the time of that Sunday the pain would only come when I got really nervous or when I would strain it too hard I.E. Doing double swim meets in one day. That gun scares me and pisses me off at the same time. I had to stop thinking about it or the steadily growing pain in my foot would take over and I wouldn't be able to go anywhere with my dad.

I looked down further and saw that he was wearing matching green pants that were tucked into combat boots. Unlike the combat boots that I wore, his were laced with green laces. My dad - a walking black and green machine.

I turned to look out the front windshield and saw that we were heading into Khualquart, our continent's capital city. My father was making the turn onto the free transit way as he shifted gears and sped up. I wondered what he had planned for us today. What was it going to be this time? A bar? A shooting range? Or maybe he would just be talking me back to his house on base to have me do chores all day like normal. I had no clue. I turned and looked at him again as I was finally becoming comfortable in body. He then turned and looked at me, making eye contact and taking his eyes off the road for the moment so that we could gaze at one another. His cover had the insignia of our nation on it: A wolf sitting on a shield of our nation with a large moon behind it. On what would be the wolf's right were a pile of spears pointing outward and away from the wolf, and on the left were a pile of rifles laying on the ground pointing outward and away. My father and I stayed that way, eyes locked, until he turned his head back to the front and spoke.

"So how are you doing Puffer?" He asked, with about as much interest as one usually has in having their teeth pulled. I was about to growl at him; I didn't like being called puffer. It is a derogatory slang term towards gays in our culture. He called me Puffer all the time instead of my name. I fucking hate that worse than any amount of sun my planet could offer.

"Dad, please don't call me Puffer, I don't like that." I said back sternly. Sure my voice may be feminine and girlish, but I can be strong and firm when I meant it, and this was one of those times. He turned back at me and had that same look of non-interest on his face as he looked nor really at me this time, but past me as if I wasn't there.

"Adrian, you mind me. I will call you what the fuck I want! And that's what you are, you are a Puffer. You disappoint me Adrian, I didn't think I'd have to raise no puffer, especially two of them." He said as he looked back at the road, gripping the steering wheel a little bit tighter.

"Dad, my name is Adrian not Puffer. If you wanted to call me puffer you should have named me that instead of Adrian when I was born." I said firmly. I had learned with my father that if you want to get a point across you had to fight about it as if you were competing for the alpha male spot.

"What I should have done is shoot my load down your mother's throat instead of in her pussy, and maybe I wouldn't have this problem." He snapped bacj in what was almost a bark. I looked at him and opened my mouth in shock; he had won. I sulked back into the corner of the truck, hurt. I shrank and hugged my knees to my chest. Did he really mean that? He had never said anything like that to me before. Gods - he really did hate me. I knew he didn't like me, but he hated me? The father that had once shown me so much love and affection, hate me?

I looked over to him as I still had my knees hugged to my chest. My father sighed and looked out my window. He saw that his lane was clear as he pulled into the repair lane and stopped as hundreds of transport shuttles and cars whizzed by his window. He leaned his forearm across the steering wheel and turned and looked at me, keeping his arm on the wheel. He sighed once more and wet his lips. I cowered in the corner; I didn't know what he was going to do, so I was fairly scared. He put his right hand on the handgrip of his MM-475 and wrapped his fingers around it. "Holy shit!" I thought, "He's going to waste me right here!". I looked at him thinking that, indeed, I was about to be bitten here and there and that my tongue had cost me my life, and my father was going to be the toll keeper. Finally after many scary seconds he spoke.

"Look Adrian, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I really didn't mean that. I had no intention of upsetting you like that." He said as he calmed himself down. My dad was trying to make me feel better, this was a rapid change. Did he mean this too? Or was this a lie just to calm me down before he splattered my blood all over the cab.

"H-huh?" I said nervously.

"Adrian, you may be a fucking Puffer, but you are still my boy. I may not get along with you all the time, but you are still my boy. We may fight a lot more than we should, but you are still my boy!" He said with emphasis on the last part of his sentence. I sniffed, I was very confused in that moment, so I could not tell if he was shitting me or not.

"Dad, why did you say that then if you didn't mean it?" I squeaked.

"I said I was sorry Adrian. I get kind of disappointed cause I thought that maybe you would have grown up to be like your dad. That's why I am disappointed." He said as he looked at me with those tired eyes of his. He looked like he was about to say something else when his ears went back a bit. That's when I heard it too, a siren. We both looked out the rear window at the same time as an Enforcer vehicle approached. The Enforcers were the lowest branch of the ARMY and were the Police of our planet. The Car's lights flickered as a blond furred officer stepped out of the patrol car that had parked behind us. My father began to roll his window down as the officer stepped over towards it. The Private looked in at us, took his sunglasses off, and blinked. He also had brown eyes just like my dad. The officer looked funny in his black uniform and badge. He looked like a golden retriever in a cop's uniform. The private turned and looked right at my father.

"Is everything alright Colonel?" He asked in a soft voice, almost like mine. My father, stern as always, looked at him - or rather as he had done with me, looked past him and answered.

"Yes officer," He paused to read the runes on his nameplate. "Milton. Everything is alright Private Milton." He replied. The Private, probably right out of the Enforcer Academy, raised one furry eyebrow and looked back over at me as I was still cowering in the corner. Officer Milton looked concerned, worried about me even. Some kid dressed in skintight black and pink clothes almost on the verge of tears, and his ARMY father as cool as a cucumber sitting next to him as if the kid didn't exist. Something didn't add up to the young private.

"What about him?" The officer asked, pointing in my direction with his sunglasses. They were the stereotypical cop/pilot's glasses that were the standard issue to the enforcers, they were perfect mirrors that allowed you to see yourself in find detail. My father didn't even bother to look at me, he stayed focused on the private. I looked to Private Milton as if he was my only means of escape. On the other hand, my father did try to apologize, so perhaps I would stay. I was however still reeling from my father's verbal uppercut, and I didn't know if it was over or if we were in-between bells. My father is kind of that way.

"Who him?" My father asked, once again forgetting that his 18 year old son was sitting mere inches from him. "He's ok, he was just feeling a little sick so I pulled over to give him a break. He seems to be fine now, so if you don't mind Private Milton, we'd like to be on our way." He replied. The officer, not really buying it, kept the same face of worry. He then put his game face back on and turned to my father.

"Sir, could you step out of the truck for a moment." The Officer asked. He made the question sound like a borderline order. Though my dad was a superior officer, under article 20 of the ARMY book of regulations if Private Milton had felt that my dad had done anything to hurt me or compromise his position as a commanding officer, Milton could have my father eating his cover for lunch. If my dad on the other hand proved that the officer was wrong in his inquiry he would have Officer Milton eating the same cover. So the question was, who was going to eat the hat? I looked at my father in the driver's side mirror, his eyes narrowed a bit as he said,

"Sure." He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door as he stepped out, slamming it shut behind him. He walked to the back of the pickup to talk to the cop, I suppose so that I was out of earshot. As I looked and watched them, I noticed that Officer Milton was about a foot shorter than my dad, and he had to look up in order to face his superior officer. Wow, talk about looking up to your authority figures. As I continued to look out the back window, I saw my father barking at the cop, who wasn't backing down an inch. My father stopped and the softer Officer Milton said a few things as my father clenched a fist, his hand seemed to want to go that that problem solving MM-475 of his. As the two argued back and forth, it was hard to tell who was winning. I shrugged and turned back forward a moment as I looked at myself in the mirror. It kind of hit me unexpectedly. Here I was, dressed in my skimpy revealing and tight clothes, looking like some kind of gay hooker, and my father was in the same truck all uniformed out. I could see why it looked bad. No it wasn't illegal for an officer to be gay, but prostitution had been outlawed for nearly 500 years. If dad had been caught with a hooker, it was cover sandwich time. I did look like a slut kind of. I smiled - I liked my look. I looked down at my hands and thought that all I was missing was pink wrist warmers and my look would have been complete.

I looked back out the window and the officer seemed to be looking at the pavement as my father kept poking a finger in his chest. I suppose my father's parverbial hat was entering Milton's small intestine by now. The officer raised his head and Saluted my father, who saluted back, and walked to his vehicle. My father walked back to the truck door and opened it with a jerk and slammed it shut as he slid back into his seat. He quickly snapped his head over his shoulder and watched as the Enforcer's car pulled away and hovered down the speedway, eventually disappearing into traffic. My father rebuckled his seatbelt and put the truck in gear as he pulled back into traffic himself.

"So how did it go?" I asked casually.

"The little numb-nut, I can't believe his gall! I tell you, I am going to make sure that this is the last day he sits behind the wheel of an Enforcer T-87; he's going to spend the rest of his carrier either as a school security guard or filing paperwork for less money than your stripper boyfriend makes. Oh, is he ever going to learn -" my father prattled off. He was on a tangent. I hated these tangents because one of two things happen (as I said with my father it's always one of two things): either he just rambles until he has prattled off so much nonsense that he forgot what he was rambling about, or he will mean every word and carry them out to the letter. Chances were the sooner was going to happen because my father was starting to ramble on about some fish sticks that he ate last week by the time he had forgotten all about officer Milton. I had to admit, I found myself smiling at my dad's rambling this time. I decided to fuck with his head while I could.

"Yeah dad, but he was kinda cute. I'd hate to see him off the speedway, cause if Shawn and I got pulled over we might have to look at some ugly guy to give us a ticket. Yeah, that private was a cutie." I said kind of dreamily, in order to woo my father's anger out once again, just to her him ramble once more.

"WHAT? Oh I bet you'd like that. I bet you'd like getting 'pulled over' by Private Milton. You know how those people are Adrian, and what they like to do with those shackles." My Father snapped back. I put a hand across my chest and almost blushed to add to my father's discomfort.

"Come on Dad stop, that kind of talk is turning me on." I said in a flirting way. Dad gulped and leaned over and slapped me upside the back of the head. It went off like the sound of a leather belt hitting flesh, a sound and a feeling I know all too well. I went forward and looked at him with that same dreamy look upon my face, despite the pain.

"Oh yeah, definitely getting transferred! He won't be anything after I'm done-" The rambling began once again. I smiled; sure my head was sore but it was pain well spent. I had made my father uncomfortable and liked doing it. He kind of deserved it after making that comment to me earlier. But to address the issue, I really did think that Private Milton was cute, but that was just cute. He wasn't a full on scorch cake like my Shawn was. I snickered to myself and looked out the window to see we were about to pass a green exit sign. It read,

EXIT 330

Memorial Hill

"Dad? Why are we headed to Memorial Hill?" I asked curiously. Memorial Hill is a special place, a cemetery. It was a cemetery reserved for soldiers or former soldiers. I had been there a few times, but only for a couple of reasons, mainly to visit my military relatives. Gods, I hadn't been there in a year at that point. Is that where my father was taking me? As he pulled onto the offramp it was clear, that yes we were headed to Memorial Hill. Great, the last place I wanted to go.

"Because Adrian, because. I don't think you've been to visit your brother in a while. I felt that you should talk to him." He said as we began to head up the long winding road just outside of the capital city that lead towards Memorial Hill. It was a simple, a huge hill that gave you a view of the city we had just came from across the lake, the 10 mile speedway we had just came across, and the lake itself. I wasn't really interested in the lake or the speedway; I wanted to go back home. I felt bad enough thinking about Alex, now I had to go and see him? Why me, why today?"

"Dad, I -" I started to protest, but held up a hand to stop me before I could stop."

"Adrian look, I don't care at the moment that you two were puffers or that you puffed on each other. I mean yeah I do care, but I am getting past that at the moment. It's just that since he died I think that you've only been there to visit him twice I think. Now you have to stop this and get out there and talk to him ok? It's painful for me too." He said somberly. For once I wasn't being briefed, rather he was talking to me like a father should. In listening to him, I knew that he was right, and that it had been too long since I had spoken with my brother. I know that it's really just me sitting on his grave and saying what's on my mind, but sometimes that's all we need.

I thought to myself as we kept driving, remembering everything about my brother. His smile, the way he would come home and from school and tell me how life was going to be, and how we would kiss me like a lover every time he left and returned. I remembered how we would wrestle on the ground of his bedroom, him rubbing his knuckles against my head, and because I am very nimble and limber I could get my body out of any position (or into any position if you catch my drift) and my brother would try to wrestle me back down. I remembered the first time we ever touched one another like lovers; we were standing nude in the shower together, he showed me how everything should properly be done. We were brothers, and we were lovers in the same instance I can safely say, I didn't mind that I was in love with him, because he was always there to tell me that everything was alright. But now he wasn't. He was resting in a sleep that he would never wake up from. I would never see my brother in life again.

I lowered my head and looked at my nicely polished boots with their pink laces. They were the same size I thought, Alex and I wore the same size boots: a size 13. I knew I was starting to cry slightly, I could feel my tears beginning as one rolled down my cheek, starting my second bit of crying over Alex for the morning.

The more I thought about Alex as we drove along, the more I thought about how I never really knew the story of how he died. The only thing that I was told was that he died an honorable death in battle, and that he was buried with a military funeral, complete with full honors and a speech from General Kent (our continent's former high commander.) I was presented with Alex's purple heart and the Badge of Fenris, which is the highest honor any soldier could receive. There was some rule that the oldest living sibling receives the medals of the dead in their honor, and keeps them in their place. I keep the purple heart under my pillow, and I wear the badge of Fenris all the time. I didn't wear it today because I forgot to slip it on. The badge is a pendant, shaped like a coin with a large red ruby in the middle of a ring of gold. The medallion itself is about an inch and a half in diameter and is carved in lupine runes all along the central ruby. The medallion hangs off a special black ribbon with our nation's motto sewn into it in red letters.

"Dalnoc Qui Bensalos Wyent: One Nation, One Family." I mouthed to myself as I remembered the writing on the medal. The most interesting part of the medal was that inside the ruby was a very special thing. If you were to use some kind of lens to look inside the ruby, you would find a diamond shaped speck. The speck in the center of the ruby is a carved bone fragment of Fenris, the greatest warrior and alpha male in our planet's history. To be presented with that medal was truly an honor. Though thinking about that made me wonder what really happened out there 8 years ago. Why had my dad kept things a secret? Why wasn't I allowed to see the body of my dear brother after he was dead? I had to know. I looked up after my 10 minute thinking session and I got the nerve to speak to my father again.

"Dad?" I asked softly.

"Yes?" He responded cautiously, not sure what was going to come out of my mouth next.

"Dad, tell me about the battle at Lupa's Cove. Tell me about how Alex died." I said in a neutral tone. I didn't take my eyes off my father. His look of stone seemed to crumble off his face as his face fell. Yup, so far I was right, one of two things. He gripped the wheel a little tighter as the truck continued to climb the hill. He nodded his head and wet his lips and spoke.

"You sure you're ready? I mean, I can tell you later. I owe you that much a least." He said as his tone for the second time that morning became that of a loving father, and not that of a stern military commmander. He looked at me as he was starting to get tears in his eyes, Sure we didn't get along much if ever, but we could agree on one thing: we both loved Alex. I looked at my father and nodded.

"Yeah I'm ready to know. I will never know what happened to him if you don't tell me." I retuned. He nodded once more and continued to drive as he opened his mouth and sighed. I knew it was hard on my father, he had seen the whole thing happen with his own two eyes. He and his whole unit had been there that day. They had seen the carnage and had seen death herself. It was the bloodiest battle in over 1000 years on our planet. The Freedom War began over the right for the Ancient-line tribes to continue tribal rule over their area and live under tribal law, and not that rules and regulations of The Nation, The war began quickly, and ended quickly. Up until 8 years ago there had been no battles, an din 3 days time the biggest war in over 1000 years had began under our very noses.

"Ok Adrian, this is hard for me so bare with me ok? It was 8 years ago. I was sitting at my desk when I got that call. I got the call from the Enforcers in the area that 25 Enforcers and 5 SWAT Enforcers had been killed by the Freedom Movement and unless their demands were met, there would be more to die. It caught me by surprise. Sure I didn't believe it, I mean who would? The tribe of the Red Claw and the Wraiths or Wrath working together? The two oldest tribes in our planet's history working in harmony? It was unheard of. We figured that they would kill each other off before they would ever join hands in battle, but low and behold they were doing it! Every second that I stayed on the Tele-com with the field CO I heard the death count rise. They were getting slaughtered out there, and the insufficiently equipped enforcers were getting their asses handed to them. Now yes, I know the battle took place on another continent, but we were called and that meant an order to go to arms. I hung up the Tele-com and then I called your brother. I guess that you two must have just finished puffin when I had called cause something looked fishy. But you remember I called your bother in and he came without question, He came dressed for battle, like the good soldier he was, puffer or not." He said, taking a moment to rest. He had not spoken about this in 8 years, and I didn't doubt how hard it was.

"We flew over to Cules, as you know the continent that Lupa's Cove is located on, as we gathered the troops. When we arrived we had amassed 2000 troops, all ready for battle, my unit among them. I had gathered up my Alpha force with is the best of the best at my disposal. There were 25 normal grunts, and 25 alpha members in us all. We looked across the field and into the cove and figured that we had them covered, there was no escape and no where for them to go. So I convened with my general and was ordered with my infantrymen to charge in. We did exactly that, we charged in. We ran in and we were taken under fire, I mean awful fire. The Freedom Movement had every advantage in battle, save the troops, but they had the weapons. They had stolen the armor and the weapons off the SWAT Team that had been sent, which was about 100 people if I recall. So you had at least 100 super powered rifles, guns, gas grenades, stun rays, you name it, they probably had it.

"We held our position and then realized how many men they really had. They had two for at least every one of us that had been sent in the initial charge, We took fire, and went into hand to hand combat and everything. Your brother fought valiantly, fighting to keep the advancing enemy off the fallen soldiers. I watched him work Adrian, and I was proud. He would shoot a few shots, and then put his gun in his holster, and scoop up 2 of our men and were wounded and run them off to safety. I lost count of how many men he started to run off. I can tell you that what I remembered most thought and this is the reason why the details of your brother's death was kept a secret from the public and only told to the military. At one point your brother had run two more men and had returned to help once more. He stood, and an enemy soldier was shot down at his feet, a Red Claw I think. Your brother looked at him, and I saw it in his eyes, there was no hate there but sympathy. I looked over at him Adrian and I shouted,

"'Don't even think it boy, he's an enemy!' I had barked over the dim. He just looked at me and shook his head. He walked over to the enemy soldier and leaned in close whispering something to him, and then he picked up the enemy soldier onto his shoulder. I think most of us saw it. Your brother looked at me and said,

"'He's a warrior fighting for his cause, friend of foe he's done his part. He deserves that chance to live I think.' As he took off for the same safety he had run off so many soldiers before. We were all in shock. He had just picked up an enemy soldier to be taken to our doctors to be saved. It had never been done in our history, and in that moment your brother was writing his own page.

For hours that's how it went, your brother never stopped to rest. It wasn't until he had stopped to pick up another enemy soldier near me when It happened. He took a hit. He staggered and kept going. He took another, and staggered a bit more, and kept going to try to reach this fallen soldier. As he stood over the body, hit twice in the torso, bleeding badly, that's when I watched him get ambushed. They riddled him Adrian, shot after shot, he was being killed before my eyes. He didn't even let out a scream as his uniform fell in shreds around him, I think he absorbed over 200 before -" My father had to stop as he started to sob. This was getting worse for him to talk about. I did something uncharacteristic of my dad and me and I put my hand on his shoulder as he drove.

"Go on." I pleaded, needing to know the whole story, He nodded and sniffed back hard and continued.

"He took over 200 shots before he ever hit the ground. I couldn't take it anymore, the sight of your oldest son getting hurt does things to you. I grabbed my APDD-10, um that means Anti-Personnel Destruction Device, and I fired a blast, taking out the 15 or so men that had shot your brother. I recall screaming 'Bastards!' as I fired. After they had been disposed of, I ran to your brother's side to try to help him, his uniform had been shot off of him, and he was naked there more or less bathing in a pool of his own blood. I bent down and tucked him into my arms and hoisted him into my arms as he was gasping to say something. I leaned in close to listen and - and -" He trailed off once again as the sobbing got too intense. This time we had to pull over once more, we were about 3 miles from the summit of Memorial Hill (the hill wasn't really tall, it just had a really long winding road meant for funeral processions.).

"What did he say Dad?" I asked, starting to cry a little bit more myself. My father rested his head on the steering wheel and cried for a moment and started to speak as best as he could.

"He said - He said -" He stopped to get breathe a little and calm himself before he started again. "He said, 'Father let me go I have more people to save, they need my help.' as I held him there in my arms. I began to run back, away from the fighting and towards the place Alex had been running troops off to, we were on the retreat now anyway so it didn't much matter about winning. I ran that fastest I ever ran my whole life that day, even faster then when I was in school and even faster than at the academy. I wanted so much for your brother to live. He kept rambling on about me setting him down, so he could save more men. I told him he had saved plenty already and now it was his turn to be saved. I was surprised that he was even alive at that point, when other men were dieing of much less mortal wounds all around me. When I reached the hopital area and laid him out on a cot, doctors swarmed in on him to try to help. Your brother had something in is hand and motioned for me to take his hands. I leaned down as the doctors set into work to save your brother's life. He held my hands and looked into my eyes with the same yellow eyes that you have, and he said his last words to me. He said, 'Tell Adrian I love him...and Mom too...' just as the life went from his body. I took my hands out of his and I held what he had passed into my hands, not even bothering to look at what he had given me. I sat down and I cried Adrian, I did what any father I think would do after losing his first son. I sat and cried to no end." He said as he stopped talking. He seemed calm now and he looked at me slowly, his face was still wet with tears as the sun went behind a cloud (There are gods out there!). I was crying too, full tears without the sobs.

"You want to know what he passed into my hands?" My father asked me. I nodded, I hadn't the faintest clue what he had.

"What?" I asked. My father looked at me and suddenly reached around the back of his neck and removed something of a metallic beaded chain. I saw him remove a set of dog tags (no pun intended.) and he held them out. They were silver in color, and had little markings on them. He motioned for me to hold out my hands and take them. I did so soberly. Father dropped them into my opened hands as they fell with a near silent chlink. I pulled back my hands and looked at them. They were Alex's dog tags. They had everything on them: his birthday, his blood type, his registration number, and his rank. I looked them over in my hands; "Alex De Fenos" printed on them as plain as day. I scanned over to my dad while we sat there in momentary silence. He was still looking at me, sad, but full of love for once.

"Dad? Alex's dog tags?" I asked. Sure any idiot coil look at these metallic medallions and see that yes they were my brother's tags, but I felt that I had to ask.

"Yes, those are the tags that your brother wore that day. I - I told myself that I'd give them to you when I felt that you were old enough. It's been 8 years, and also given what I just told you I figured that I couldn't hold onto them any longer. Take them Adrian, and wear them with pride. Wear the name of a hero around your neck." He answered. He then reluctantly took to driving once more, setting the truck back into motion. I continued to rub my thumb across the raised runes on Alex's tags. They seemed alien to me as if they didn't belong, they were cold to the touch. I remembered Alex wearing the very tags that rested in my hands. He wore them all the time: In the shower, in the throes of passion, and all around the neighborhood. I then did as I was told and I placed the tags around my neck, the rectangular shaped objects dangling against my black toob-tank that I wore. As I wore them, I was filled with a sense of inner peace. I felt as if no matter what I'd have Alex right next to my heart.

"Thanks Dad." I sighed. Those were two words that I haven't said with the same positive meaning towards my father in years.

"You're welcome puffer." He replied calmly. I decided to let that one slide, for we had arrived a the gates to the cemetery, Memorial Hill.

* * *

Memorial Hill is the largest military burial ground on our planet. It was filled with over a million graves. A million graves of a million fallen soldiers - weather they died in battle or of old age surrounded by their family, every soldier gets the right to be buried there. Amongst the buried were some of my family: My Grandfather, my Uncles on my Father's side, my Great Grandfather, and of course my Brother. The graves of the cemetery were extravagant, each one a masterpiece, and no two alike. It is possible to get lost amongst the graves, so they are done in all kinds of rows and groups and such. After my father checked the registry for my brother's grave location, we hiked about half a mile through the graves until we found it, the black marble slab was sticking about four feet out of the ground. All the graves in the cemetery face north, so I sat facing south after walking over the grave. My father placed a hand on my barely clad shoulder and spoke.

"10 minutes. I know it's hard on you, so I'll leave you alone here for 10 minutes. Say what you need to say, and when your done meet me by your Grandfather's grave over there." He instructed, casting his arm out towards a tree a ways of in the distance. Slowly he turned and walked away and left me alone over the resting place of my dead brother. I looked down and scooted myself over the grave and observed the tombstone. It was a definate black in color, and had all kinds of fancy runes carved into it. Alex's military picture was carved into the lower right-hand side of the stone. It made me think that someone had literally scanned him into the marble. I ran my hand across the soft grass and wiggled my butt a little to get comfortable. I sighed and thought of something to say, but nothing was really coming to me. I decided to read Alex's epitaph aloud until I could think of something to say.

Here Rests

Sgt. Alex Andrew De Fenos

5th Infantry of Pendren

Born Died

December 20, 5005 August 10, 5023

Beloved son, brother, and friend.

Died at the battle of Lupa's Cove saving his comrades.

Presented with full honors by General Kent.

I read that tombstone an unknown amount of times before I got the nerve to speak. I had gone a year or so since I had last "talked" to Alex, and now I was going to. I wet my lips and looked down once more at the grass in front of me, imagining Alex's upturned face looking up towards the sky for all eternity, and I focused on the image of him sleeping, at least the last time I saw him sleeping.

"Hey big bro..." I began. I looked down and wondered if in some way he wasn't listening to me, taking in every word. I paused to make sure he heard me or at least had my attention. I continued to look at that spot of grass and wiggled my toes in my boots and wagged my tail.

"Hey sweetie - I miss you. I know - it's been a while but I miss you so much that coming here hurts me. I hope you understand." I said as I paused to think for a moment, then continued. "How are things where you are? I bet they are nice and comfy, way better than down here. I hope that you found a nice male up there to keep you company, I'm sure there are plenty of sexy men up there that would like you. Oh that reminds me, you still owe me sex. Once I die and come up there we are making love like we promised each other. I don't care what happens here, I am sleeping with you the first chance I get!" I smiled at that thought. Even though we had never had sex with each other, I still had the pleasure to watch my brother fuck before, and he was a god in bed. To me he was every man's dream and he had captured my heart as a child.

I decided to continue. "Shawn and I are getting really close. I think I may have a winner with him. Granted, he did do two very naughty things to me recently that have angered me and hurt me severely, but I forgave him. I love him just about a much as I loved you. As far as other things go, Ashley is growing up really fast; she is a very inquisitive tyke. She'll be just like Mom someday I think." I said as I had to stop for a moment to keep from crying. The whole weight of where I was was tearing me apart inside.

"Dad told me about what happened at Lupa's Cove, and I am so proud of you. I never knew that you saved enemy soldiers! That is so like you - completely selfless. You thought of others, you thought of others before you ever realized that you were wasted. I am sure that Fenris himself saw that and is patting you on the back, or doing other things to you up there.

"I am getting really close to Kuni if you couldn't tell, and he is growing up fast. Sure humans grow up at about the same rate as us, but still he is a great and stunning creature. He is also - kind of a kinky thing. He loves to flirt and play with me. I have an urge to have sex with him, but you know the laws...and plus me becoming a zoo? I suppose that I am a little bit of a zoo now that I think about it, but I wish I could have a two-way conversation with him though, and epically you. I love you both." I said as I stood up and dusted off my tights. There came an unexpected breeze that caressed my exposed fur and skin, also blowing my headband tails about. I sighed and placed my hand on the marble tombstone and looked down upon it once more.

"I love you Alex, in every way that I can love you. Thank you for being my brother, my boyfriend, and my all." I whispered. I turned and walked away from my brother's grave, dry on tears for the moment, so I didn't cry. I walked a little faster so I could get away from that depressing place and headed towards my Grandfather's grave. Unfortunately for me our family wasn't buried together, so I had to make a little bit of a hike to get across the rolling hill towards my father.

I found him standing with his military cover tucked under his left arm, standing over my Grandfather's grave. Like Alex's, the tombstone stood up to be about a good three and a half to four feet tall and also bore the likeness of the buried in the lower right hand corner. My Grandfather looked identical to my dad: hard and chiseled. My Grandfather and my Father were really close, and I'd almost dare to say that they too were in love, but that wouldn't be accurate. Their relationship was strictly father and son. Well my Grandfather loved me just as much as he loved Dad when I was little. He used to treat me to candies and take me to blackball games. Sadly he died when I was 9 of a strike. It never made any sense, because he like my father was so strong and would never had laid down for anyone. I remembered him well, and I remember that at one point that he was a general in our ARMY. His name was Anthony. My father was so proud of that fact that our family had a general in it, he reminded me of that fact all the time as a child. Thankfully for my Dad at least, my Gramps didn't believe in setting impossibly high standards for his son, my father could have been whatever he chose to be. I guess that young Andrew De Fenos wanted to emulate his father the general in every way. From what I think, he was doing it only on a professional level and not on a personal level.

My Grandfather was buried under a little fir tree that stood proudly next to his tombstone. I remembered that tree well; Alex and I planted it ourselves at his funeral. It had grown a bit over the years. When I had planted it, it was nothing but a glorified twig with a couple of needles sticking out of it. Now it was a fine baby tree, standing about 6 feet tall. I walked up next to my Father and looked him over for a moment and then spoke.

"I'm ready to go dad." I said softly. He turned and nodded towards me, he had some tears in his eyes still. I suppose that he didn't dry up on tears as quickly as I did. He patted my shoulder and guided me back towards the truck. While I walked, I observed the names upon the stones that we passed. They were all so diverse, some ancient-line names were present, and some more modern names like mine were popping up all over the place. I had to stop after a while or I felt that I would get lost in all the runes.

We hopped back into the truck and pulled away from the cemetery on top of Memorial Hill, and began to drive at a faster pace than we were driving previously, down towards the capital city. As I began to gather my thoughts I wondered to myself; where are we going now? Wherever it was, it would seem that we were headed there in a hurry. I looked towards the speed readout on the dashboard. The digital numbers told me that we were going close to 60 on a winding hilly rode, and that we were above speeding. We were taking that hill at a definite reckless speed.

"Um Dad? What's the damn hurry?" I inquired. My eyeballs felt like they were being sucked further and further back into my skull with each passing foot. I gripped the armrest of my door a little tighter and the back of the seat next to me as well. I think that I was about to break a sweat at any moment.

"We've got somewhere to be in half an hour or we'll be late." He answered, once again in the voice of Col. Andrew De Fenos, and not the voice of my father. Ok wo we were racing at a break neck speed to get somewhere, but where? And why was our punctuality so important?

"Where are we going? I asked as my father pulled back into the free transit speedway to head towards the city. I could finally sit upright now that the g-forces didn't have me rocking this way and that. I looked out the front windshield as the capital city loomed out in front of me. It was huge. The sky-towers were each marvels of modern design. The shortest were 20 stories high and the tallest were over 200 stories. You really had to crane your neck to view some of those towers. I hate to admit it, but I'm scared of heights. I went into the Grey Wolfe building, a 215 story apartment building in town and I went to the very top and looked at the view. I fainted. Now it makes me nervous to be around tall buildings like that. I fear that every time I am in one that I am going to fall and keep falling, never quite hitting bottom before I die of fear.

"We're going someplace special." My father said as we took a vicious turn that caused my head to smack the inside of the wall with a loud thud. I then blacked out and feel out cold.

* * *

"ADRIAN!" Came my father's voice screaming through the blackness. I was numb all over, except for my head with pounded in pain, I wondered where I was. My blackened out state yielded nothing but a black void for an intractable amount of time. I didn't know where I was or what time it was. My father shouted my name again, and as if a switch was thrown I felt that I could move again, I opened my eyes and everything was blurry for a moment but my father came into focus. He was kneeleing next to me inside the cab of the truck, where I was still sitting. He looked very worried and concerned, and I wondered over what.

"Adrian! Speak to me son!" He shouted. His voice rang out in my head as I shook from it's power. I held my hands to my head and wet my lips to speak.

"I'm here dad, what happened?" I groaned, rubbing my sore head.

"GODS! Don't you ever scare me like that again! I thought I'd hurt you again." He said as he got out of the truck and walked around the front and opened my door, causing me to fall out into his arms. He quickly set me down and stood me upright. I had a headrush from that, nearly causing me to black out again.

I looked about me as my head started to clear. I was in a parking lot. There were thousands of speeders and trucks. I wondered what the parking lot was for. I couldn't see anything in front of me other than Sky-towers and my father.

"What happened Dad?" I asked once more.

"You smacked your head against the cab when I pulled onto McMorrison St., sorry about that." He answered, pointing back to the truck behind me. Suddenly it all came back to me: my Dad's reckless driving and me hitting my head and blacking out.

"Dad, you drove really fast and hard. I couldn't hold on." I said, trying to convey to him the idea that I didn't really fancy getting my melon smashed against the inside of the cab wall. He nodded and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Again I am sorry, but at least we are here on time. I still don't want to be late." He turned me around with his hand that was clasped to my shoulder as I laid my eyes on a sports arena. It was Khualquart Coliseum, the planet's largest sports arena. The indoor/outdoor arena had a roof that could open to allow the sun to shine in, or remain closed to have some really cool effects in the dark. Today the giant roof was shut and would probably remain that way for the day in case the rains come back. The arena had 4 levels that the spectators could occupy: The ground level, two levels of box suites, and the upper level "cheap seats". There were enough seats for over 120,000 people to sit and observe the events that would take place there. I supposed that my father and I were going to fill two of those seats, leaving about 119,998 seats to be filled before they were going to be sold out. I looked around and saw a huge assortment of people. There were those of every size shape and walk of life headed towards the main entrance. My father shut the doors to the truck and started walking towards the VIP entrance. I had no choice but to follow, my head throbbing a little still.

"I hate to repeat myself, but where are we going?" I asked, curious as a cat as I walked alongside him. My eyes scanned the patrons walking by; I saw a rather handsome and slightly familiar looking male walk by wearing one of my high school's black and pink letterman's jackets. I wasn't able to see whom it was, I was walking too fast. There were kids, adults, and elderly all around me. All of them were rushing to get towards the main entrance, but whatever for?

"I am taking you to see the fights Adrian, today is the biggest pay-per-view of the year! Perhaps watching the fights will help straighten you out." He said curtly. We arrived a the VIP door just as I was narrowing my eyes from what my father had said. My father was trying to change me again. "This is shit!" I thought to myself as he showed the security guard his tickets and military ID. The rather portly guard, expecting us, guided us through a series of hallways and stairs until we were on level 2, and then straight to our box. Once he opened the door to the box, I had a look inside. It was kind of like a little house in there. The box had it's own bathroom and kitchen, and a couple of couches and a big screen tele-tron, and a few rows of seats that overlooked the arena. I stepped through and looked out to see the place PACKED with people. Flashbulbs were going off all over in random places making it look like a star filled sky. In the middle of the arena was a huge fighting ring, Above the ring were four electronic screens that allowed those in the upper sections to be able to see the action. I could see the 30x30 foot ring easily without the use of the screen. The "ring" was a raised platform about 5 feet off the ground that is divided into 900 square foot sections. Outside the ring was a 10 foot wide section where weapons were strapped to the security wall. I was in awe at the sight of the ring, I am not a big combat fan as I stated before, but to see the ring in person was amazing. My father lead me towards our seats, and sat me off to his right. He sighed and snickered, then looked at me.

"Amazing isn't it?" He asked as he set his hat on the empty seat next to him. I had to admit that it was an impressive sight to see. The arena on the inside was a huge bowl shape, and the whole thing was almost a sea of people. You could hardly tell that there were any seats there at all. The noise of the crowd was almost deafening; it was the sound of over 100,000 people all taking or cheering at once.

"Yeah Dad, it's amazing." I answered. I had never been inside the arena before, not once. I had seen the inside of it on the tele-tron we had at home, but to see it for yourself is to shatter any image that electrical device ever plugged. My father tapped my chest and then cast a hand out and pointed towards the ceiling above the ring. I assumed he wanted me to look and I followed his finger.

"You see that?" He was inquiring just as I looked on and saw what he was pointing at. A cage, the largest cage that I had ever seen. It was as big as the whole ring area and at least 20 feet tall. I wondered what it was doing there. I was pretty dense when I came to these kind of things, and I had no clue as to the intricate workings of the fights. I had common sense enough to know what was going on, and I knew the fights had very simple rules, which were to win. I supposed that the cage was going to surround the ring during one of the fights, so it would add an increased amount of carnage to the already vile gladiator like combat. The thought repulsed me.

"Yeah I see it. What is it, and what the hells is it for?" I countered. He smiled and broke into a laugh, patting me on the shoulder.

"You see Adrian," He began in a cocky tone. "That is called Hell's Kennel. When we reach the main event, the two guys get to fight in that cage and beat one another to a pulp. They can use weapons just like in the other fights, however in this fight there are no rules, and only one way to win. That fight will be no-holds-barred. I can't wait for that one." My father finished with great enthusiasm. I felt sick and wanted to vomit; at least my head wouldn't hurt so much then.

"Dad, I - I feel like I am going to be sick." I said to him. I did too, so I wouldn't have been telling a complete lie. I put a hand across my exposed stomach for added emphasis. He looked me over and shook his head.

"Bull. Why in the world would you be sick?" He asked with about as much caring as the drill instructor he sometimes was.

"Dad you know me! I don't like these things, I don't like violence. I mean, of all the places to take me on our visitation day, you take me here. Why do you do that? Why do you take me places that I am uncomfortable?"

"Boy," He started in a low and almost warning tone. "Boy you're a lousy and you need to stop being one, it's not healthy and not good for you. I brought you here to straighten you out. Perhaps watching this championship tournament will do that, for I'd hate to live with the knowledge that I failed you somewhere by letting you lead a life of debauchery and shame." He said with a smirk. His bigotry had made me even more sick, I was ready to puke all over him, and honestly I was about to.

"Dad that's fucking sick! What are you thinking? Are you thinking that forcing me to watch some guys kill and maim each other is going to make me pop a boner and say 'Gee Dad, lets go get some fucking pussy, watching that guy get his own leg shoved through his asshole really makes me want a piece of twat'? NO! Gods is that what you were thinking? Of all the..." I shouted angrily. Just then the event music began to play and the lights were coming down, getting a tremendous roar from the audience in response. My father narrowed his eyes at me but didn't budge an inch. He just smiled wider and gripped my shoulder a little tighter; his perfect maw of white teeth and fangs grinning evilly at me.

"Yeah, that was about right. Now watch the fights and who knows? If it does straighten you out then we both win. Besides, I know a little lady that would love to fuck you, but I won't give her to you if you are still even thinking of another man in that way." He said as the event started. There were cannon-like pyrotechnics that started to fire to signal the start of the event. I looked out and observed them as an excuse not to look at my father. I liked the fireworks, they were awesome. If the entire event were a fireworks show, I was going to be alright. However, I knew deep down that they were not the focus of the show, and only the pacesetter. I was going to be subject to uninvited violence, the likes of which were some of the worst my planet had to offer.

The promoter stepped into the middle of the ring when everything had quieted down and began to explain the riles and processes of the days events. I had to admit that as barbaric as it was the amount of science that went into one of these fights was intriguing and off the page.

The rules of the tournament were explained as such: The tournament consists of 3 levels of matches. A blue match is a preliminary match up, and in only to enter the tournament to advance to the next level. To win a blue match, all you had to do is toss your opponent from the ring and have both feet touch the floor. Once all the blue matches are complete, the brackets are set and the combatants are ready to move onto a yellow match. The yellow match is the all around match that you could win by pinfall, submission, surrender, count-out, or by killing your opponent. The last match which was usually the main event is the often dreaded Red match. Red matches can only be won one way, and that is by killing your opponent. Now you might think that in a civilized society such as ours, why would anyone allow something like this? The answer is simple; ratings, money, and the green collars. The green or respawn collars were invented by our species and intellectual rivals, the Catlings (Or Boridins as they are sometimes called.). The Catlings have a similar sporting event on their planet which lies at the center of our system. The Catlings also have a match that ended in death, only there was a problem. They problem was they kept running out of decent talent by killing off all the opponents, weather they were willing or not. A brilliant inventor from their world by the name of Dr. Juan invented a type of collar that when work gave you immortality in a sense. The collar, colored green obviously, is worn in combat and if the wearer gets killed they would merely experience a blackout and then awaken backstage with a new body identical to your last one. A machine spawns a new body for you, however the bodies aren't really new, they are basically your old bodies put back together in the exact same condition you were in before the match began. I thought was such a cool thing, so I tolerated that.

The only unfortunate thing about those wonderful green collars is that they had limited uses, or I am sure we all would be wearing one. The flaws are that for starters, the collars can only work within the fighting arena itself, and they will only work so long as the generators to the respawn machine is turned on. I suppose that our ARMY wishes they had those green collars when they go into battle, that way they would never run low on soldiers. That way Alex wouldn't have died...

So there I sat, completely uncomfortable in body and in mind. I now had a soda in one hand and an array of sausage dogs and nachos laying on a try in my lap. I was looking out just as the blue matches were beginning. "Such sexy men," I thought. "Tossing each other around like there was no tomorrow.". It was a brutal thing to witness, the way people were getting handled in there. Most of the fighters in the beginning didn't seem to have any skill, they were probably just competing for the prize money, as is the motivation for many deathmatch combatants. If you made it past the blue match and into the tournament officially, you were guaranteed 100 Kreblings for your trouble. I suppose that just about anybody that could hold their own in a fight would try to get into this thing. I did hear my father mention something about some regional pro's entering and that today's fight would have a major X-factor. That X-factor was that the Grand Championship was on the line today. I didn't know who the Grand Champ was, but from what I could surmise, he had to be a fairly tough individual in order to be champion in this deadly environment.

I looked down at the ring and watched as one by one the bodies began to fly out of the ring. I lost track of how many matched actually went on. The blue matches were so quick and fast paced, for all you really had to accomplish was tossing your opponent out of the ring. The blue matches were a test of strength, dexterity, and speed. It was boring, and no one else in the boxes around me that I could see were really that intrested. It was only after a half an hour of matches that the audience got excited. The lights above the ring changed from blue to yellow. Now the carnage could begin.

I sipped on my lemon-lime soda and turned to my father who was handed a program. The programs were flash typed and printed so that once the tournament brackets were set, people could actually wake up and know what was going on in a sense. After my father was done he handed it over to me and I gave it a look-see. The combatants were all so diverse; different in size, age, and weight class. One of the names I read was profiled as a lawyer if i am correct. A lawyer that thought he could hang with these bloodthirsty men? It was funny, I would bet my entire savings that the whole locker room was gunning for a chance at that guy.

The first match began in no time, following two rather odd entrances. The combatants had greased up their fur (making them look even more delicious in my opinion) and had pit on a wide array of tights. The first combatant in the ring was a black furred furred lupine like me, dressed in red tights with black flames on the legs. His tights had "Billy Black" written in a semi-circle across the butt. He was barefoot and shirtless, and his little black feet were visible from even where I sat. I suppose that he went barefoot to keep a better grasp on the canvass.

The other male really caught my eye. He was a vulpine, a red fox looking humanoid. They are cousins to our race, and I figure they are what you get if you crossbreed Canines and Felines. The male wore a black fishnet shirt that was sleeveless and a green plaid kilt. He was probably a highland vulpine. He wore black laced boots and he had his hair shaved in a flat top with a long, thick rattail braid that went down to his knees. His chest fur puffed out the opening in his fishnet shirt in a nice and alluring kind of way, his fists were all taped up with athletic tape of white, contrasting his black hand fur severely. I wondered who he was. I looked on the program to see who Billy Black would be fighting. The fight was on rung #7, apparently the fighters of this match drew number one to see which rung went first in the tournament. I saw the vulpine's name was Coby McFarland. On closer inspection, I noticed that Billy was the larger of the two, but with the way that Coby was jumping from side to side warming up, he seemed to be the swifter.

The bell rang and the fight was on. The two males started by making eye contact and circling each other. Billy looked fierce, his long curly black locks of hair were wet down, making him look sinister and evil. Coby, though circling continued to shuffle his legs in the same warm up he was using earlier. Billy made the first move of the contest by making a lunge and catching Coby into a collar and elbow tie up. The green collars on their necks flashed for a moment as they were activated. The two men jacked for position, using their upper body strength to try to gain control. Coby then gained the upper hand by shoving Billy back a step or two, and sending a vicious right hand to the temple. Billy's head shuddered with the impact, his long wet hair flailing with the sudden movement. With some distance between them, Coby capitalized by taking a step forward, shifting his weight and planting the sole of his left boot into the bottom of Billy's chin with a shuffle side kick. The crowd began to cheer because they, like me, favored the vulpine that was giving them what they wanted. Inadvertently, Coby had given me what I wanted too; a sight of what lay under that kilt - nothing. "A true highlander." I thought to myself as I savored the momentary glimpse of another male's genitals. My father was smiling wide; he was loving every moment of the bedlam that was happening, I wasn't. I was just secretly lusting over the men's bodies as long as I could until something would happen (I was also glad I had my tray on my lap, otherwise my tights would have revealed my secret lusting with a healthy boner.). I didn't like violence and I don't think that I ever will.

I looked from my father and back down to the action in the ring. Billy was staggering about while being pummeled by the skilled and educated boots of Coby. Coby was landing thrust and side kicks left and right, working over Billy's chest abdomen and torso. Coby decided to get a little cocky and throw a dropkick with a ¾ turn in mid air - that connected, knocking Billy down backwards with a sickening thud on the hard canvass surface of the ring. Coby turned his back on his fallen opponent and waved his arms about in a request for applause, which was met with cheers. He strutted around, clapping and begged for more applause for his work, his taped hands actually making enough noise to be heard over the fans in my skybox. I shook my head in dissapointment, for his arrogance would cost him.

In almost no time, billy had kipped up (threw his legs out from the ground and entered a standing position from a horizontal one.) and bolted towards Coby who had his back turned on it all. The audience groaned in anticipation of what was to come, knowing it was not going to be pretty. Billy leaped into the air and thrust his upper body forward like a missile, spearing Coby in the spine with his left shoulder.

I tried to guess what was louder, the snap of Coby's spine or the groan of agony from the audience. I watched the whole thing; Coby's back arched backwards like a bow, and he went down in a heap with the momentum of the maneuver. His scream was tremendous. Once he had him down, Billy stood up and snapped his head back so his hair was out of his way and he began to circle the fallen Coby, who was wimpering in agony. Coby didn't seem to be able to move his legs, a side effect of getting your vertebrae rearranged. Coby's hands reached around, almost like a fish flops around when it it out of water, Billy began to sense what I was sensing, that victory was already his. He continued to circle around Coby, much like a vulture waiting for the kill. I set my soda down in my drink cup holder and watched - curious what Billy would do to the obviously tamed Coby.

"Watch this Adrian, this will be great!" My father shouted over the crowd. I didn't quite agree with him, this was going to be painful. The crowd began to chant "finish him" over and over again, my father joining in. This fight had been short so far, less than 4 minutes and already it was about to end. Billy nodded to the audience and stood with the tips of his toes pointed towards Coby's head. Billy then traced his thumb across his throat from left to right in a slitting motion, signaling for the end. Billy then reached down and lifted Coby up slightly to place Coby's downturned head between his legs, and then Billy leaned forward and grabbed onto Coby's waist with both arms. Suddenly he hoisted Coby up so that his body was completely inverted, his kilt falling to reveal his healthy groin and buttocks, his tail hanging limp on Billy's shoulder. Billy held him there for a few moments, then jumped, driving Coby's neck and head into the mat with a horrible crunch. A piledriver. After the piledriver Coby's body remained limp, this time his whole body. The collar around his neck glowed green, and his body disappeared from the ring as the crowd roared in approval. Coby McFarland had died, and he was respawning backstage. He was respawning a loser, but 100 Kreblings richer, Meanwhile Billy Black celebrated by flexing for the crowd in his long red tights until he was told to head backstage by an official until his next match. He walked up the entrance ramp and threw one final salute to the crowd, promising victory. I sighed, so far my father's plan to turn me straight wasn't working, but it wasn't over. I grabbed a hot dog and decided to eat it to settle my stomach and not watch the second fight. When my hot dogs ran out I moved onto my nachos and chose to miss the third fight as well. I decided to watch the fights again once my food had run out; the food was an adequate distraction from the action below.

I looked out as fight after fight occurred The way they all looked and dressed were so diverse. They was actually a fight with an authentic Red Claw tribesman in it, his blond fur was painted with red face paint, and he bore his tribal tattoo on his right shoulder with 4 red claw marks. He was dressed in the tribal loincloth of black and red, he also donned the traditional tasseled boots and bicep tape. He looked invincible, his hair was braided back in so many braids that it was almost like normal long hair. The tribesman's braids flailed all over as he attacked his younger combatant. The Red Claw tribe member used a finely carved double sided axe in order to hack and cut his smaller opponent to ribbons until the body dissapeared.

The crowd seemed mixed on their reactions to the Red Claw. Half seemed to support him while the other really wanted to see him get his ass kicked. I checked my father, and he was stone faced. He hated Red Claws. After the war, the Red Claws remained a tribe, but under Nation rules. So basically they lost but failed to disband or civilize. I guess the Red Claw tribe was planning on making a statement by winning the title. I turned to talk to my father as some more oddly dressed fighters entered the ring.

"Dad, do you actually enjoy this?" I asked, conveying my disdain for the whole show. My father turned and looked at me, not interested in this fight either and answered me.

"Yes I like it, and you should too! These are real men, not lousy puffers like you. I'd like to see a puffer try to last in that ring, he wouldn't have a chance against a breeder like them - or me." My father replied. Again he was belittling me. I growled at him in anger, getting a growl back. He obviously was in an aggressive mood, so I decided to back down like last time, and I sat upright and watched the show.

I observed for another two hours as more blood and guts unfolded. Out of all the matches 50% were won by death, 25% by submission, 10% by pinfall, 10% by count out, and 5% by surrender. Surrender is kind of like submission, however when you surrender you give up without your opponent touching you. I was not surprised at the amount of matches that were won by death; it seemed to me that it was almost too easy to merely kill your opponent. Pinning your opponent or making him tap out was something that took skill in my eyes.

"Dad, gays may be more feminine, but if you back us up against a wall we can fight just like straights can." I replied, trying to set my father in the right frame of mind on the subject. He scoffed in amusement, leading me to believe that he wasn't smart enough to comprehend what I was talking about.

"No they can't. Puffers like you are weak bodied - and week minded. You're too afraid of getting a claw broken, or messing up your hair, or biggest of all, hurting another male you might find attractive in order to win. There will never be a puffer wearing the Grand Championship belt, NEVER! So long as good old fashioned straights do their gods given job like those men out there and keep puffers out of the ring, the world will be a happy place." He said with all the sour, bitter bigotry that he could muster. That was it - I lost my patience. I stood up out of my chair and started to walk towards the door of the skybox. My father didn't bother to get up, but he turned around and looked over the back of the seat at me in confusion. "Now just where in the hells do you think you're going?" He asked.

"Away from you - for a walk. I'll be back when I've calmed down." I answered as I walked out the door and slammed it shut with a rather loud bang. The maitre d' that had shown us to our box was standing across the hallway next to a salad bar, and looked at me exiting the room so angrily and noisily in confusion. He waved me over to him and called to me to get my attention, but I really didn't feel like talking to him, so I started walking. The maitre d' groaned in frustration and started to waddle after me. I noticed that people in the hallway were staring at me as I walked through the concrete hallway with a fat maitre d' chasing after me. It was just about when I was going to reach the elevator when the fat guard slapped his right and on my right shoulder. I stopped in my tracks and snapped my head in his direction rather agressively, my earings jingling as I did so. The guard off to my left looked surprised at the speed of my reaction and jumped back a little as he caught his breath. I looked him over, measuring him, my eyes darting up and down. He was wearing the nasty purple uniform of the arena's maitre d's. It had several gold buttons in the middle and made him look like a classy but cheasy soldier. The guard continued to hold his hand there on my shoulder as he looked at me in an attempt to figure something out. I noticed now that he was a rather fat bulldog, white with some black and brown patches here and there.

"You ok son? Is something the matter? How are you feeling?" He asked. I simply narrowed my eyes.

"Fine - no - and peachy." I retorted in an obvious lie. Inside the arena the crowd cheered, I assumed a match was over. I didn't care about missing it. I wanted to leave but some stranger had his hand on me and I didn't like it.

"Are you sure you are ok? Is something wrong? You seem to be very angry." He said, sounding as if asking these questions was a rehearsed act for him.

"How very astute - nothing is wrong! I just have to get away from the asshole in there for a few minutes. Now do you mind getting your fucking meat hook off my shoulder?"

"The what?" The fat guy asked as he slowly removed his hand from my shoulder.

"Are you deaf or brain dead? I said I had to get away from the asshole in there. You need me to repeat it a third time? The asshole." I groaned, making sure to annunciate on the word asshole.

"Did you just call the Colonel an A-hole? I didn't think he would let his whores talk about him in that way." The fat male pondered. That was it, I lost my temper. After the whole morning since the damn sun shined in my face, up until now, I had let my anger build, and enough was enough. I thrust out my arms and grabbed the rather portly guard by his coat and hoisted him off the ground using my powerful swimming arms, his stubby little legs kicking in surprise. The patrons nearby were also shocked at me lifting a near 400 pound canine up by his coat. Why couldn't my father see me now? Little did I know that there were a pair of eyes on me that I couldn't see...a pair of eyes that watched what I was about to do...and a pair of eyes that watched in approval.

"You really are dumb! Were you born a damn stupid jackass or did you have to work for it? Now you LISTEN to me you little maggot! I am not the Colonel's whore! Your 'precious Colonel' happens to be a homophobic worm and hates to associate himself with them, so why would I be his whore? Is it because you think I dress slutty? Do I look attractive to you? Well here is a news-flash fat boy; this is the way I dress! I'm gay and proud and love to show it! And as for calling the Colonel an asshole, I'm his son and I can call him an asshole whenever I want. So if you really want to bug me any further, I say you and I have our own red match right here in the hallway!" I yelled. The patrons in the hallway clapped and shouted in applause, shouting words of encouragement as well. Those unseen eyes nodded in approval and removed themselves from the area, for their owner had other business to attend to. I dropped the maitre d' to the concrete on is behind. He looked up at me and hurried to his feet, and then ran away, a slight wet stain appearing on the front of his purple pants - as well as the back.

My arms were shaking as I stormed to the elevator and opened it, stepping inside it quickly. I pressed the door close button and was shrouded in the light of the elevator,a kind of pale yellow. I groaned and folded my arms across my chest, my adrenaline was wearing off and I needed a break, I sighed and leaned up against a wall, just as my tail inadvertently pressed a button. Suddenly my anger flushed away as I spun around to see what button I had pressed. The rectangular button that was highlighted read "Locker Room". I bit my lip and paced as the elevator began to move down it's shaft towards my tail's destination. "Stupid tail..." I thought as I wondered why my tail had chosen now to give me additional grief.

The elevator dinged with each floor, my tail's desired floor approaching swiftly. I had to think about what I was going to do. I had some problems now that I was headed that way: first of all, I was dressed so oddly that someone might have mistaken me for one of the fighters and pull me in and force me to fight...and that wouldn't be good, or my second and more prudent worry would be that I would be caught by a guard down there and be found in an unauthorized area and get into trouble. I began to rehearse what I was going to say if the later happened. I would be saying something like "Oh I meant to get ogg at the lobby but I can't see to well without my glasses, I appologize so I'll be going now" and simply press the button to get back to level two. Even if my "wrong floor" story didn't work the most that would happen would be I probably would get a verbal warning about staying in my own area and I would probably be escorted to the asshole upstairs.

In almost no time the elevator dinged one final time and the double stainless steel doors opened to reveal the men's locker room. I stepped out for a moment to have a look-see while I was there. Right off the bat I saw a series of long rows of lockers, with men standing in various states of nakedness getting dressed and undressed. I turned to my left and on a bench down the way a little bit were two soaking wet Catlings in towels, looking into each other's eyes dreamily. Each had a hand up the other's towel and was working in an obvious stroking motion. "Gods damn!" I thought to myself. "Tail maybie you've redeemed yourself after all!". Behind me there were more fighters coming as a group of five walked by me on my right, all talking about their upcoming match. That Red Claw tribesman was there among them, As I slowly slipped back into the elevator door, the tribesman and I made eye contact with me as he walked....he almost seemed to recognize me as he kept walking by. As the group walked by, the two males who were sitting on the bench looked around to see if the coast was clear, and stood up and turned around, letting their towels drop as the two Felines I assumed were heading back towards the showers. I thanked the gods I hadn't really been caught yet.

I slipped into the elevator all the way again and was about to press the door close button when I heard an accented voice call out.

"Oy! Hold the fooken lift!" Came the voice as I slipped my finger off the door close button and onto the open door button to keep the door open. In no time from around the corner a well built and very familiar vulpine had entered the elevator. The vulpine was Coby McFarland. He was carrying a green plaid canvass bag that matched the kilt he had on earlier which I guessed held his fighting gear. Coby was dressed differently than before. He had put on a skintight spandex sleeveless shirt with a V neck, allowing that wonderful chest tuft to protrude. Below the waist he had slipped into a pair of tight blue jeans that highlighted his groin rather deliciously. He had on the same boots that he was wearing earlier, and his hands were still taped up. I blushed and stepped back a step as he moved in a little more. As the door closed I noticed that he was checking me out as well, but not as innocently as I was. I could plainly see that he was undressing me with his mind. I blushed a little harder and turned my head to the side, pretending not to notice.

"Thank ye boyo...'cause of your cute arse I don't ave to wait 30 minutes for the next lift." He said in his highland accent as he leaned over and pressed the button for the lobby. His voice was higher, but also had a manly depth to it, not at all feminine like mine. As he pushed the button, his hand and forearm passed over my bare side. I actually didn't mind all that much and I let him...consider the fact that I was more scared than anything and didn't want any trouble. His hand stayed on my side as we huddled in that elevator close together in a space that could have fit 20. Why he was being so touchy feely was beyond me.

"Hey...you're pretty cute lad. I'll tell ye what...I aven't had a man in a long time; what do you say you come back with me to the hotel and we can get better aquainted?" He offered. He smiled as I turned and looked over into his beautiful green eyes. Temptation brought my cock to swell in my thong and tights, making an obvious bulge. The thought of willingly trying a new male was intriguing, and not just any male but a deathmatch fighter as well. But just as I felt him slip his hand onto my bulge over my tights, I thought to myself how quick this was happening. I did have a boyfriend after all.

"No..." I whispered.

"No?" He asked back, as he squeezed me there. I groaned for a moment while he groped me, and noticed that the elevator was starting to go back up again. I shook my head and placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back a couple of steps gently. He looked at me with a confused smile and folded his arms across his chest. I had to be firm, despite the fact that my body wanted this attention.

"Look Coby, it isn't that you aren't sexy or anything. If the gods were willing I'd screw you in this elevator right now, but I already have a boyfriend - as much of a butt he can sometimes be I must still be faithful." I said softly. Coby stood there and nodded, smiling a little brighter than he was before. I took a moment to turn around and adjust my boner in my pants, a bit of precum coating the inside of my thong (wow was I that horny?).

"Ye know lad, it's rare to find someone like you. Ye see, yer so cute and sexy, but best of all you have honor. You have a boyfriend and even though your cock said yes to my advances, your heart said no...and ye chose to listen to the louder voice." He sighed in a disappointed but pleased sigh.

"Thanks. I've never received a compliment like that from a total stranger before." I said as I then leaned back against the wall of the elevator as it made it's very slow climb towards the lobby.

"No problem lad."

"So, if you don't mind my asking, are you really gay or is this just an act? And I'm also curious, are you a highlander? You seem to have an accent." I said as I watched him. His large bushy tail began to move a little, just the tip of his tail. It was almost a cat-like gesture, like when a cat is observing something that it wants.

"Aye, that I am, and proud of both. I am from the highland continent of Eire. I lived there all my life and trained to fight there. I was about your age when I came out about my gayness to try to make my fellow fighters more comfortable with working with me. There are more of us than you think in this gladiator stuff, you'd be surprised. Did you see Ryan and Timiskious on the bench by the elevator?" He asked.

"Yes I did, the felines?" I asked, recalling the two felines that were being a little friendly with one another.

"Aye those are them. Well the funny thing is they were both straight until they met eachother and the big guy."

"The big guy?" I asked.

"Aye again. The big guy some of us call him. The big guy is kind of like a daddy backstage, and is more than willing to give us some love. He brought those two together, but unfortunately I haven't been able to get anything for myself back here. It's been so long, that's why I got so aggressive, I'm sorry."

I shrugged. "It's alright. I do have a question though. Why are you in these fights? They don't seem to be your style." I inquired.

Coby's bright smile faded away as I recognized what I had done; I had asked a question of a sensitive nature that had hurt his feelings. I opened my mouth to appologize, but he held up a hand and leaned in and pressed the emergency stop button. The elevator lurched to a stop as I made a nervous face. He sighed and looked over at me.

"I got to give ye credit boyo, ye got the nerve to ask what no one's asked me."

I chuckled nervously. "Luck I guess?"

He shook his head. "Nah, it's more than that."

I rolled my eyes and scooted away from him a little. "Ok. Then are you going to tell me why you fight?"

He ran a hand over his flat top and shifted his weight, leaning against the wall now with his upper back. "Ya wanna know why I fight lad? I'll tell ye. I fight because soon I won't be able to anymore. It's the same reason I don't get laid as often as I did when I was younger - because I know I wont be able to do it much longer. It's hard for me to say, but there is really no harm in telling you. I - I - I have Glokens' syndrome. I got it from my parents, they have it too. Ye see, The Nation has cut a lot of funding to the highland area hospitals, and they wont front any Kreblings for any research on the disease. It's getting to be an epidemic where I am at, and it tears me up because my parents can't afford to see a decent doctor. My parents and I are really into the highland ways anyway, though I am easier to persuade; I can't convince my parents to come here to get treated. My mother already fell victim to the syndrome and is now a paraplegic, and my father will be next...and then me. I don't want that to happen." He said quietly. "I fight to make money so my family and I can afford to see decent doctors. Sure the deathmatch arena might not be my cup of tea, even though it's what I've done all my life, but I have to do something."

"Wow, are you sure it's Glokens' Syndrome?" I asked. I was completely shocked to hear Coby had this disease, it was one of only 3 diseases not eliminated by our science yet.

"Aye, positive. I have about a year and a couple of months before I'm in a wheelchair. Anyway...I'd better get going boyo, I've waisted too much of yer time - and mine." he said as he pressed the stop button once more and the elevator started again. In almost no time the bell dinged and I could see the large lobby. There was a huge sea of people waling around all the ticket offices getting their tickets for upcomming events, and there were crowds of people by the consession stands straight out in front in the middle. There were large glass windows that made up the entrance, the sun shining through and highlighting the hundreds of people that were coming and going. Coby picked up his bag and took about 3 steps out towards the crowd before I made a split second decision in my head that would change my life forever. I called out to him getting him to turn around.

"Coby?"

"Whut?" He asked, scratching his back a little bit.

"My name is Adrian De Fenos. My number for the tele-com is 97206. Please, give me a call the next time you are in Khualquart and I promise I'll help you with your problem. As for your bigger problem, I'm here for you and I'll do what I can." I said with a smile. Coby's smile widened a tiny bit as he winked at me and turned and mixed himself into the crowd, just as the elevator doors closed. I pressed the button for floor number 2 and decided that I had plenty of time to cool off, and it was time to return to my father's side. I would have to watch the rest of the tournament now...I was interested in knowing who this "big guy" was.