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Chapter 10 - Revolution Is My Name

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Ok, so the title of this chapter really doesn't have much to do with anything, I just recently re-discovered this song when I heard that Justin Bieber had covered it. Of course, it turned out to be a hoax, it was just some very talented high-school kids, but it gave the Biebs a bit of a boost in my esteem. Just for a little while.

It's going to be a little difficult to accurately describe the position we ended up in after our little... talk. Although I was loathe to dislodge Myles from his perch atop my chest given his condition and the fact that we were both very, very naked, I was losing feeling in my legs, it was about three in the morning and he had just played a full show for the tenth consecutive night. With extreme reluctance, he slid off of my torso and onto the cheap motel mattress next to me. His still extraordinarily-aroused shaft struck me upside the head, but I didn't mind in the slightest.

Suddenly feeling the chill of the poorly-insulated room I shivered once and rolled onto my side, arching my body awkwardly to tug the blanket out from underneath me. I was dragging it across our bodies when I remembered (for about the tenth time) that we were naked, I was still as hard as a rock and it was not a very big bed. He rolled onto his own side to face me, nuzzling his muzzle against the nape of my neck, and I could feel his lips pulling back in a grin.

A quick pat with my hands confirmed in the darkness that, no, those were not in fact warm August watermelons pressing against my thighs, but Myles' deliciously overfilled sac rubbing against my own. My mind had stopped boggling at the immensity of my diminutive friend's endowments, but it was still fun to think about. His slick, almost achingly hard cock was pressed snugly between our bodies, up over his head and resting against my cheek again. I moved my free hand higher, feeling the base of his shaft and wondering what the knot on a wondrous member like this must be like.

I gave him a fond squeeze, but didn't protest when he gently moved my hand off of his flesh. I had to giggle a little bit, though, when he put it right back on his overstretched sac and gave me a reassuring pat.

"I know, I know, no hanky-panky tonight," I whispered into his ear.

My body twitched when his fuzzy paw gave my own shaft a squeeze, and I laughed a little louder. I was still damp from my own seed, and the inside of his mouth. "Well, ok, at least not for you," I conceded.

He nodded and yawned, my own lungful following moments later. It had been a hell of a day. My bruises and contusions, forgotten in the heat of passion, were now reminding me of their presence, and I knew I was going to look like sheer living hell the next morning. It was a small price to pay, though, for what I had gained. Well, for what we had gained.

My eyes were heavy, but I wasn't quite ready to sleep just yet. Myles was doodling on my chest with a single claw, and I was likewise tracing little nonsense figures on his drum-tight scrotum. My left arm was pinned beneath him, but he was so light it wasn't uncomfortable, and allowed my left hand to playfully fluff with the bulbous bouffant that was his tail. "So... some night, eh?"

He nipped lightly at my ear, and I shifted a tiny bit closer to him, not minding in the least that I was now basically dry-humping... er, moist-humping his balls. Remembering just how psychologically scatterbrained I was in the hours leading up to the concert, I had to ask, "Were you nervous before the show, at all?"

He was still for a moment, and then nodded against my collarbone. "Yeah, me too," I murmured. "I didn't know... well, anything. You seemed a little more sure about your feelings than I did, that's for sure. Your note... I guess you thought about it from a different perspective than me."

One clawed hand tugged at my shoulder, and the other dug into my hip and pulled me affectionately close. "Yeah, I missed you, too, but, you know. All those years, I figured you were mad at m-"

I was cut off by his maw closing, gently but very deliberately, onto my lips. If I tried to speak, I knew I'd end up giving myself some very haphazard biker piercings. My eyes flew open, but in the darkness he was little more than a blur. I held my breath for a few seconds, but then he released the pressure, and I knew that he was glaring again. "You don't want me to talk about that anymore," I guessed with a rueful sigh.

Another tug in the darkness in response. "I can do that. It never happened. We went camping, there was an incredibly long weekend, and now we're together again."

He nuzzled my neck once more, and I gave his finally-softening shaft (though still feeling literally like a python) a few kisses goodnight. "I'll shut up now," I yawned.

Clawed fingers danced down my side, tickling my hip, and he started to draw something. "OK, let's see... heart? No, not a heart. Hourglass. Girl? Boobs! OW, no biting. Ok, it's not boobs. Uhm... you're swirling. Wait, dogbone. Nah, far too small to be YOUR dogbone. Kidding! Kidding! OW! OK, jeez. Oh, wait, I know this one. You want to hang out? Tomorrow? Bush Fur is over for the season, right?"

A nod, and another yawn. I was jealous, he could yawn while mid-sentence and still come out clear. Well, to me. "When does Lacuna Coyle start touring again?"

Myles shrugged against me, and tapped out something with his fingers. I didn't catch it, and decided it didn't matter. "We can totally hang out," I said thickly. "You can stay with me, if you... if you want..."

The full import of what had happened, and what was going to happen, started really hitting home, but just before my last thought turned off the lights on its way out of my head, I decided that it didn't really bear worrying about. I had an armful, and a bedful, of Myles, and figured that was enough luck for one lifetime.

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I'm no prude. I've had my share of morning after 'waking up, looking next to you, and frantically trying to remember exactly what had happened in a blind panic before' moments... three, to be precise. Two of them were pretty awesome moments, I have to admit, accompanied by a 'Wow, that's a lot better than I thought I'd do!' ego-stroking, and the third one can probably be chalked up to an excessive quantity of Jagermeister and poor lighting.

This one blew them all away.

One eye cracked open and I winced from the twin assaults of thinly-veiled sunlight and the bruise that had swollen overnight. I started to filter through the night's events: the show, the punching, the mud, the music, the MORE punching, the stage, the kiss, the kiss, the kiss, the kiss, the kiss, the... ok, I was focusing on some parts more than others, I will most certainly admit.

Parts of my body started punching in for work, and most of them had clearly been drinking the night before. Wildly irresponsible of them. Hands and legs were sore from moshing, back and front were sore from scrapping, arms and hands were warm and fuzzy and very, very happy where they were.

My other eye opened and I got a good view, my first real well-lit view, of Myles' black braids. They were shiny, and bound at the ends with little copper rings. His ears were ruddy and red but fringed with shaggy grey fluff, and when I exhaled they twitched reflexively. I chuckled, but tried to be as quiet as possible. I wanted to lean back and take in the full panorama, but I also didn't want to wake him up yet, so I simply abided by getting comfortable.

My right hand had been trying to get my attention, and it finally got through to me. Me and Myles were spooning, and somehow the unruly act of God that was his tail had ended up between my legs and was sticking out behind me. I was thankful for this, since I didn't really relish waking up with my head in a tumbleweed, even if it was one of his more attractive assets. My left arm was still pinned, but my right was wrapped around him, and it was clearly resting on something warm, and full, and periodically throbbing.

Well, that part wasn't a dream, I realized.

Part of me was slightly saddened by the fact that his sheath seemed to have returned to it's normal size, while the rest of me was deliriously happy to realize that his sheath was still far too large for me to get my admittedly-large hand all the way around. With exquisite slowness I slid it backwards, feeling the pleasing, velvety texture of him and determined that his sac had also gone back to normal.

No, not quite normal. If I was any judge (and I fancied that, in this situation, I was) he was bigger than he had been when we started, but nowhere near the size he had reached when sleep claimed us. How did that work, I wondered? I was good at biology, and although hyper-physiology was still a little-understood area of study, there had to be a reason for the dramatic pre-coital growth that allowed for normal-ish size to be restored if nothing happened. Why, a careless fur could become incapacitated if they were stuck at peak capacity, and where was the evolutionary advantage in that?

Yes, I was naked snuggling with my same-sex lover and trying to figure out the structural and hormonal mechanism for hyperpriapism. I'm a dork.

A moment later I realized that I was in a definite conundrum, because if I moved on the tiny bed I would surely dislodge him and wake him up, but if I didn't move then I would very shortly alerting his rump to my presence. Morning wood was nothing new, but this was definitely the most awkward instance I've experienced!

I tried to shift my hips, but his tail was still pinned between my legs. Bending my back didn't work since he was using my left arm as a pillow. I wiggled my toes, but found no inspiration there. I felt the shift and slip of skin on skin and winced when the unaccustomed sensation of short, brush-like fur greeted my erection.

I let my breath out slowly a minute later when I started blacking out from oxygen loss.

Look, I know what you're all thinking, and I don't blame you for judging me. This was a weird situation for me to be in, but my panic-thoughts at the time were not because I was scared of waking up in a bed with a naked guy, but because I didn't know where the boundaries were, considering we'd only been a couple for... wait, hold on, what time was it? Let me check the clock.

Nine-forty-seven? Fucking hell. OK, we've only been a couple for, like, six hours. I was exhausted and wanted to go back to sleep, except I was currently ragingly aroused and snuggled up to the cutest and most sweetly oversized coyfox in the world, and although I was aching with desire, the light of day had made me scared anew of every action and consequence. I loved Myles, there was absolutely no misinterpretation or misunderstanding there, but between the hangover and the bruises I wasn't up to the possibility of... of...

You're waiting for me to say it, aren't you? Well, fine. I couldn't even say it to myself in the privacy of my own head back then, but here goes. I was scared of fucking him.

That's a weird thing to type.

I felt the urge to stop being quite so R-rated with my hands, and I slowly shifted my right hand off of his sac, inching it slowly to somewhere safe like his stomach, when he smoothly reached up, grabbed my wrist and guided my hand right back to where it had been. He pat the back of my hand comfortingly, as though to say 'There there, you can snuggle with my balls all you want'.

My jaw dropped. He turned his head and looked up at me, muzzle drawn back in a sleepy grin, and then stretched one of the most dramatic full-body stretches I've ever seen. His heels dragged down my shins, his fists rose victoriously as though he were trying to punch the headboard, and his entire body bent outwards like a bow being drawn. His tail vibrated against, beneath and behind me, which was not exactly helping me to ignore how hard I was.

He recoiled like an elastic band, and we were both now having a hard time ignoring how hard I was. He nestled his rump against my lap, wriggling his hips like a pole dancer, but I think he felt me tense up against him because he looked back up at me again, eyes wide and curious.

"Sorry," I said softly, "I was trying not to wake you up, and... you know, in the mornings... wait, do furries get morning wood?"

He cocked his head, and then slid his hand back and grasped me in a very familiar fashion, giving me a little bit of a squeeze. My body twitched, and I think I made a little 'Erk!' noise.

"Yeah, that."

Myles shook his head.

"Lucky."

I breathed a sigh of relief when he let go of me, but then there was a brief, reddish-grey tornado in my arms and Myles was once again facing me, cuddling up to my much larger body for warmth. He shivered once, and I could feel that despite his short, fuzzy outer layer he was also a little chilled. I wrapped one arm around his body and the other around his hips, drawing him tight.

"I suppose I'm gonna have to get used to you being naked a lot more than before," I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Well, my mood, at least. For all I knew, Myles was as comfortable here as anywhere, while I was the one that was all spooked and nervous. A shift of his hips and his more than ample size was pressed up firmly against mine, making me feel pathetically small.

He nipped at my neck and I dragged the blankets higher around us, enjoying the feel of his lithe form against mine. "You know," I said aloud, coaxing myself through the thought process, "when we were young we spent a lot of our time like this, I guess. Cuddling and stuff. The treefort was fucking cold, you know."

Myles nodded, and I jumped again when I felt a small, raspy tongue making little licks against my chest. "That's not distracting in the slightest. Well, I didn't mean you had to stop, I just... hee hee, that does tickle. Anyways, I guess I got used to just cuddling with you, so that always felt natural, and... well, the naked part is sort of new, and... no, again, I didn't say you had to stop. I'm just... let me babble, ok?"

His head popped up in front of mine, and he touched his nose to mine. I grinned, remembering that was how he used to say 'carry on'. I moved in to give him a little smooch, but his head vanished downwards below the blanket again, and he resumed tickling the heck out of my torso. "Ok, back to garbled insanity. Oi, gods, I need coffee. In a bit. But... I'm going to have to do so much of the talking in this relationship, aren't I? No, that wasn't a dig at you, I just mean I'm going to have to be the one that vents every single stupid insecure thought and you either give the thumbs up or thumbs down."

A hand with a raised thumb protruded from the blanket, and I had to laugh. "Yes, thank you. Very helpful."

I took a deep breath, and paused. Where exactly do I go from here? I don't want to leap straight into 'I'm scared to start having sex with you' , especially given the number of times the previous night I had suggested it. Start small, maybe.

"So what do you want to do today?"

A small, padded paw wrapped around my shaft, a sensation that was rapidly becoming more and more familiar, and my body spasmed. "Er... not QUITE what I meant," I said with a chuckle, sliding my hands down to his waist and hips and snuggling him closer. His hand, I noticed, stayed right where it was. "I meant, head back to Forks? I can show you around. We can fit most of your stuff into my car... hey, wait, do you own the van?"

He paused, and drew an X on my chest. "Dang. Ok, yeah, we can fit all that in Beamer. Might be a tight fit." I felt another squeeze, and I kissed the top of his head. "Again, that's not quite what I meant."

"Do you want to stay with me for a little bit? I mean, you obviously have band stuff to do, this is your life and you guys are popular and AWESOME, but maybe take a little vacation?"

His nodding almost gave my chest carpet burn. "Well, I'd love to have you," I said, meaning it.

When his head popped up, one eye archly cocked, I rewound what I said and really listened to it. "Er... I meant as a, you know, guest... visitor... not like that! I mean, I DO want y-you... uhm, that's not quite what I meant either. Stop laughing at me."

Myles was on his side, jaw working soundlessly, one hand holding his stomach he was laughing so hard. I sighed and rolled my eyes, but chuckled right along with him. "You make it very difficult to say anything innocent, you know that?"

He nodded and pounced on me, the force of his sudden rush knocking me onto my back. I stared up at him in shock when his hands gripped my shoulders, his toes tickled my chest, his rump nestled against my lower belly, and his tail swishing in the background like some sort of tropical palm frond. His head moved in slowly and he kissed me with the passion I recalled from the previous night. It took me a second to get my mind around it and kiss him back properly, but when I closed my arms around his body, I found nothing but air.

Myles landed deftly and walked, buck naked and unselfconsciously, to the little bathroom. He looked once over his shoulder and winked before closing the door.

"This," I said, trying to get my breath back, "is going to be a long autumn."

I lay there for a moment, listening to the sounds of the motel coming alive all around me. There were footsteps and doors slamming, vans starting and conversations drifting past the door. I supposed the bands were used to this sort of life, asleep at three and up at nine, and I was the outsider. Also, I had drunk more (and been punched more) than any of the performers, so I guess I earned it.

I had just swung my aching legs out of bed when the bathroom door opened and Myles appeared in a billow of steam like a cheap special effect. He walked towards me, and I was greeted with, I realized, the first ever sight of him naked and well-lit. The previous night had been sheathed in inky blackness, and every other occasion he had been at least moderately clothed, but this... this was new. I stared, taking in not just the eye-popping spectacle of his spectacular, hypnotically swaying sac and sheath, many multiples larger than my own, but also the whitish-grey streak that covered his chest and the insides of his thighs, the black splotches and streaks at his elbows and knees that I had never seen before, the taper of his midsection and the tiny black nubs of his toes.

Once I had taken all that in, I'm not that ashamed to say I just went right back to his crotch.

He got closer, and the look on his face switched from lusty leer to pained concern. His small hands played across my body and he examined me closely, and I realized that he'd never seen me naked, either. I realized yet again that he was examining the damage from the previous night, fingers framing my healthy collection of bruises. "It's not that bad," I said, attempting to stand up, but he grabbed me with blinding speed and forced me back down. "Really, I've been worse than this, I'm ok."

He looked at me, head tilted to the side, equal parts concerned and frustration. I blushed and looked away. "I told you I used to fight a lot... I would have been sent to a different school, if there was one closer than three towns away. But I stopped! I stopped in, like, Grade 10."

Paws framed my face and he tilted my head back around, but only so he could check on my bandages. I winced at a crick in my neck, but ignored it. "I'll be fine! Really, I just need a coffee and a shower. Then more coffee. And maybe a Jolt."

His jaw dropped in exasperation, and he walked back towards the bathroom, yanking on my arm. I winced again, feeling my shoulder twinge, and I got slowly to my feet, following him while trying to dodge the swishing swath of his tail. He dragged me into the bathroom, and I realized the shower was still on. "Heh, you didn't have to do that."

Skittering lightly, he let go of me and scooted out of the bathroom. My heart fell for a second until I felt two hands against my rear, pushing me towards the shower. My arms pinwheeled, but I acquiesced and allowed myself to be forced, QUITE against my will, into the scalding stream of water.

"Thanks," I said again, meaning it. It may have been a small action, but it showed more caring than I was used to receiving. That, and the shower felt REALLY REALLY good. I turned around and started to say, "You sure you don't want to join me?" when I discovered that Myles was extremely quiet when he wanted to be, and was already shutting the shower curtain behind him, his fur starting to slick down. His tail had picked up a lot of spray and was sagging low behind him, looking heavy and forlorn.

Let me tell you something: the sight of Myles, naked and dripping wet, is something that I will treasure for the rest of my life, but it also brought my partially-retracted hard-on back to full, raging life. I faced away from him, facing the shower, but then THAT just brought to mind things that he could be doing behind me, and I started to turn back, and... at that point my brain gave up, closed down shop, and went out to get a bite to eat.

Myles looked down at me, looked back up, and grinned.

"I guess I'm gonna have to get used to being naked more, too."

He nodded. I don't know if it was the heat of the shower, or the slick tendrils of water making their way down his body, or somehow the sight of a battered and hung-over DL Bender soaking wet, but I was treated to the well-lit and fully-exposed sight of his own pride beginning to bulge with desire, and within moments his sheath had plumped several inches longer and was now easily as big around as my forearm.

I stared at him, he stared at me, and we moved together, arms outstretched...

You know how some motels are cheap pieces of crap? Well, we do. Whoever else was getting up that morning had obviously gotten up so early for a reason, and a moment later when the shower spray falling on us turned ice-cold we figured out what the reason was. I found myself standing dripping wet on the bath mat, with a very wrung-out wet-dog-looking Myles wrapped around me like a straight jacket. He might have only been ninety pounds, but he was well over a hundred-twenty soaking wet, and the tail was all dead weight.

We stood there for a moment, shivering and staring incredulously at the icy torture chamber we had both exited, and then slowly looked at each other

He buried his head against my neck, laughing uproariously, chest heaving and body shaking. I shifted to the side to put my weight against the wall before I slipped and either killed one of us or very forcibly moved our relationship ahead several base levels, but I was laughing just as hard as he was.

A minute later, sighing reluctantly, I moved to the shower and shut off the traitorous taps (and yes, Myles was still clinging to me, shivering but making no motions to get down and find a towel). "Well, that's one way to wake up," I said, teeth chattering.

It sank in that he was essentially grinding his moist nethers against my midsection, but I think we'd both decided this wasn't the time for getting frisky. I guided us back to the bed and collapsed onto it, and Myles finally released me from his crushing grip of love. We lay there, panting and giggling.

"So... if that was the shower, want to try the coffee now?"

He shook his head in mock terror, and started laughing again.

Chapter 11 - Come As You Are

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An hour later found myself, Myles, James and Ricky gathered around a disturbingly orange formica table, hunched over our respective drinks and trying to breathe some life back into our bodies. Ricky and myself were enjoying coffees (although 'enjoying' might be too strong of a term, considering this was a Denny's), James of all people was sipping a chamomile tea, and Myles had an extra large Vanilla Coke that looked bigger than he was.

"The FIRST THING you have in the mornings is a Vanilla Coke?"

He grinned and nodded, tongue lolling. His bandmates nodded, too. "All the time," Ricky chittered, "he's like some crazed sugar-maniac. If he wasn't so damn skinny I'd have taken him to a doctor, but I guess he does enough leaping around and screaming to burn it off. Or something. It's not like we're watching him ALL the time. Didn't hear any leaping or screaming last night, though."

The squirrelboy sitting next to me elbowed me in the ribs to drive the blunted joke home, and I blushed and smiled noncommittally. Myles, on the other hand, who was sitting across from me just smiled and sucked on his straw, making several lewd and decidedly unsubtle stroking motions along his tall, tapered glass. James snorted, and Ricky just hooted with laughter.

"I admit nothing," I said bravely, staring back at them. This was apparently the height of humor, and they laughed harder.

I felt a twinge of insecurity at this, but when James smiled at me, his least predatory smile to date, and Ricky clapped me on the shoulder, I realized I was being accepted by the rest of the band. "Besides," I fired back, "I didn't see any of you guys sneaking groupies out in the wee hours of the night."

Myles reached out and grasped James' wrist, lifting the leonine musician's hand up. I stared at them quizzically until I noticed the telltale strip of gold. I goggled at them. "You're married?" I said, still too exhausted to keep the incredulity out of my voice.

James nodded. "Got a problem with that?"

"You're very hostile, aren't you?"

"Grr, I say, grr, boy."

I turned to Ricky, who was taking a picture out of his plaid shirt pocket. He handed it to me with a wide grin. "Her name's Gwendolyn," he said, and I could almost feel the giggle that wanted to bubble out of him.

I took the picture, squinted, turned it sideways, and then right side up. "Is this at a carnival? She's holding a... a... wait a second..."

"Yeah."

The horsegrrl in the picture had to be pushing eight feet tall, maybe even more if the doll-like figure in one arm was any estimation. The doll I had originally assumed to be a carnival prize, but it turned out to be Ricky himself, toes dangling more than a foot off the ground, head smushed up against one incredible breast. "Yowza," I said.

"She's a sweetie."

"I'll bet," I said weakly, handing the picture back. Myles was grinning like a fool, and James was making hourglass shapes in the air with his clawed hands. "There were just so many girls backstage, I figured someone was reaping the rewards of fame."

Myles slung his arm around James and mimed taking a picture with an invisible camera, and I laughed. "I guess a few pictures on Spacebook goes a long ways."

The assembled members of Panthera were sitting one booth over, and the sleek cheetah who I remembered as the lead singer turned her head towards us. "Myles here was starting to worry us, skin job. Twenty-two shows and not so much as a phone number. You're an answer to all of our prayers."

"I.. what? Why?"

"Well, we were worried for him!" Myles was shaking his head ruefully, but the cheetess went on. "Sexy boy like him, driving the audience into hormonegasms every night, going home alone? He turned a few guys in the audience gay, for sure, but when that didn't pan out we were all wondering what was wrong."

"And then along came me," I said wonderingly.

"Yeah. I think the drummer from Marilyn Hanson had ten bucks on 'skin fetish', so you made him happy, too"

"There was a pool?!"

Never before have I been so happy to see Denny's food arrive as I did at that moment.

The rest of the morning conversation focused around how Myles and the band had met (they heard him singing to himself in a school bathroom), musical tastes outside of Bush Fur, which video games were the most pathologically addictive, and which groupie was hottest. I got a few odd looks when I made impassioned arguments for a few of the memorable ladies, and it took me a while to realize that it was because, as far as everyone on the tour seemed to be concerned, I had nailed the lead singer of Lacuna Coyle the night before. The MALE lead singer.

We got up, pooled our meager funds and managed to pay and leave a tip. I had to endure a lot more introductions, handshaking and backslapping from the assorted roadies and bandmembers on my way out of the restaurant, which seemed to have been completely conquered by the Bush Fur crew, and several wishes that me and Myles were happy together.

"Should we just take out an ad in the paper, and maybe a television spot, just so everyone in the world knows?" I asked in exasperation when we finally got outside.

Myles took my hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly. I looked down at him. His endlessly optimistic smile soon spread to my lips, and I had to chuckle. "You should just be happy they were all so concerned about you," I said sincerely as they started to flow out after us. "It's a pretty close-knit bunch, eh?"

He nodded, guiding us to the sidewalk and then down the road, hardly more than a rural highway, back towards the motel. It didn't take us long to get everything from the hotel room (Myles' underwear, lost to us all morning, turned up hanging from a lamp by the front door) and bundle into the Lacuna Coyle travel-van with James and Ricky.

"Thanks again for this, guys," I said from my position on my back in the rear of the cargo van.

"Hey, any boyfriend of Myles' is a friend of ours, and since we've never had to apply that axiom before, you should be happy I just thought of it."

I laughed at Ricky's comments, wrapping my arms around Myles to keep him safe in his almost-customary position sitting on top of my chest. The van was still stuffed with equipment and luggage, but at least the mattress beneath my back and the luxurious padding of Myles's body and tail above me made the trip very comfortable.

It was still weird to think of us as, well, boyfriend and boyfriend. Myles seemed to have no trouble with it, but it was clear he'd thought about it a lot more than I had. Besides, for the time being, it seemed we were moving in together. Into a small apartment together. A small apartment with one bed. Since so few of my friends were blind, deaf and dumb, it was pretty obvious it would get out before long.

After a moment, I figured what the hell.

We were well on the highway when Myles shifted his position slightly, turning to face me, sliding his legs to either side of my chest (or at least trying to; with the size difference it was like a toddler riding a horse) and bringing his tail around to block the front of the van, much as he had done the previous night. I smiled up at my love, giving him a slightly curious look, but when he scooted his butt forwards, my attention was suddenly much, much lower.

"Wha-" I said, but there was a finger across my lips in a flash, and I shut up. Unlike the previous night, which had been pitch black, the interior of the van was fairly well lit, and I had an extremely close-up view of Myles' jeans. His knees were squeezing my sides, and every time he flexed his thighs the ridiculously compressed bulk of his sac seemed to swell and recede behind the overtaxed zipper. It still amazed me that he'd been able to find jeans that fit so well, considering it looked like he'd bundled up my sweater and crammed it down there.

Another scoot and his knees got a bit closer, and so did everything else. The unmistakable outline of his sheath was being gripped by his pants with such force I could almost make out the cute little veins on it's surface. My hands were gripping his waist to keep him steady during the drive, but now I slid them a little closer, my right slipping around his thigh to gently cradle his sheath, my left brushing across his zipper, in awe of just how full and firm his balls were, each one far too big for me to cup with one hand.

His tail waved back and forth, twitching every time I squeezed, and I smiled up at him, though I was still wriggling my eyebrows curiously. What are you doing, I tried to ask with my nonexistent Jedi mind powers.

I gasped when he inched forwards again, his denim-clad sheath now pressed up against my armpit, his twin orbs almost filling my vision at this distance. Another slow caress and my eyes were not fooling me... his jeans really were getting tighter.

I cast my eyes repeatedly towards the front of the van, but he just grinned, shrugged, gripped my shoulders and leaned down to kiss me.

And this is what he's like when there's two people close enough for me to kick, I thought. What in the world was going to happen when the door actually clicked shut behind us at my place?

He was grinding his hips slowly against me, and I could actually hear the sounds of his jeans stretching to the limits, they were so close to my ears. A quick squeeze confirmed that his sheath was definitely doing it's best to keep him contained, but there probably wouldn't be much of a contest if last night was any indication.

Still, I trusted him... and really, if you were in my position, would YOU have told him to stop? Well, some of you might have. The prudes. I don't want your kind reading this, anyways. Go on. Get out of here.

When he finally broke the kiss and leaned back, I had to gasp: his jeans, in defiance of everything I thought I knew about jeans, were still keeping him contained, but there was a hell of a lot more of him to contain than there had been a few moments ago, though he was still nowhere near the glory he'd shown me he was capable of. The sight of so much of him, so close, was starting to go to my head, and the feel of his tail repeatedly swishing across my lap confirmed that he wasn't the only one getting a little aroused.

I had just placed my hand on the zipper again, tugging it down one single brass tooth, when my weight shifted in the van and James proclaimed solemnly, "We're here."

I opened my mouth to protest when Myles's entire maw was suddenly pressed up against my mouth, my words stifled by the sensation of his tongue against mine. What was left came out as a weak moan, and from the silence at the front of the van I knew that we had acquired an audience.

When I was finally released, Myles grinning like a fool with his tongue lolling out. I tilted my head to the side and peered past his tail to see Ricky and James staring back at us.

"Uhm... thanks for the ride."

Ricky just winked. "I think you should thank Myles for that, I just drove you to your car."

Awash in their laughter, I had no choice but to wait for Myles to get off of my torso before I could get out there and help everyone shift the equipment over. After a moment, with the coyfox still sitting there, panting like a lab that was waiting for praise, staring at me, I remembered that I was vastly bigger than him and just sat up anyways. His eyes flew wide and he tumbled backwards, arms pinwheeling, and ended up landing on his beanbag-chair-like tail.

"I'm glad we're not going to be taking a lot of public transit," I said to him with a wink, leaning in to give him a smooch before popping the side door to the van and hopping out. I had only gone two steps when what felt like a sandbag crashed into my back, but the sensation of claws, fur, and a very aroused pair of pants against my kidneys revealed the truth. Arms scrabbled briefly before finding purchase around my neck, while his legs hooked around my midsection, and I was the recipient of a very unexpected bearhug. Foxhug. Coyotehug. Whatever.

"Am I public transit?" I felt him nod, and I sighed. "Well, I guess this is like weight training..." The feeling of him rolling his hips against my back almost sent us tumbling into the weeds, but I managed to keep my footing. This was going to be an interesting day, and I told him so.

I proceeded to haul, with Ricky and James' help, all of Myles' gear from the van to the back of my car, which was roughly where I left it. My windshield had one note that read 'You forgot your car, dumbass!' one that read 'He probably just went home with someone!', and one that read 'Maybe he went home with the lead singer from Lacuna Coyle! LOL!'

"He actually wrote 'LOL'?" James asked drily.

"Yup."

"Wow."

"Yup."

Myles was licking the back of my neck, and any exposed skin that he could find, while I finished stuffing the foam mattress into the hatchback and managed to slam it hard enough to keep it closed. His bandmates kept eying his perch on my spine with amusement, and seemed to be just as amused at the fact that I didn't mind. To be honest, every time that pink slick-yet-rough tongue lapped at my skin, my body went all tingly. I wasn't feeling encumbered by him at all; if anything, I felt energized.

Eventually the four of us stood in between my car and their van... ok, three of us stood and one of us clung. I scratched my head a little uneasily, smiling at the two musicians while Myles started gnawing on my shoulder. "Uh.... thanks," I said, feeling there should be more to it. "It was... cool to meet you guys."

James glared, and Ricky's face managed to go almost completely straight for a moment before the little squirrelboy burst out laughing. "Oh, relax, it's not like we're not gonna see you again in a couple days. I don't care how big you are or how good you are with knots, you've got our lead singer and we're gonna want him back."

The leopard pulled the keys out of his pocket and started to head back to the van. "Yeah, we've got a meeting with our label next weekend, might be lining up another tour in a couple weeks."

"Normally he just sort of lives in the van, but this seems like it might be a little better for everyone," Ricky continued. "Give him back in one piece! And, like, don't hurt his throat, or anything, ok?"

My face burned with embarrassment. It was going to take a while before I got used to THIS level of familiarity! I decided to fire back with my own, though. "I'm a little more worried about hurting mine."

Ricky just grinned and hooted, flashing a thumbs up and hopping into the passenger seat with a final farewell wave. I watched the van pull away, and I can only assume Myles also watched them go, as he seemed to be more interested with nibbling at my left ear.

"Well," I said slowly, "we're alone again."

His left leg loosened from around my midsection and dropped slightly, one bare heel rubbing suggestively against the front of my jeans. I chuckled and reached one hand around to pat his rump, feeling the wispy outer fringes of his nebulous tail against my skin. My body went rigid when I felt his tongue press hard against the base of my neck and slowly, slowly, curl it's way up.

When my eyes refocused, I turned my head and tried to look behind me. I caught a glimpse of a mischievous grin, and winked at him. "Driver picks the music," I said, "passenger shuts his pie-hole."

I have to admire his dedication to maintaining his position, but he did manage to leap to safety at the last second before I crushed him against the driver's seat of my car.

---

Two hours later found us tired, sweating and collapsed onto the futon at Casa del Bender, aka the former storage facility of the Forks Fas Gas. I don't want to ruin your preconceptions, though, but I should tell you that we were fully clothed.

"Ok... so that's... your stuff over there," I gasped, gesturing to where my wall of clothes was now partially blocked by milk crates, amps, bass guitar cases, and miscellaneous tied grocery bags of fox-clothes. "I don't know... why you're... out of breath..."

He looked hurt, and mimed hugging my invisible neck. I had to chuckle. "Yeah, I guess holding onto me like a sack of potatoes is hard work. All that lifting, bending, walking, putting stuff down... how DO you DO it?"

Myles slapped me playfully on my chest, and I responded by going limp and slipping sideways, pinning him beneath me. There was an explosion of fur and a hurricane of flailing arms and legs, but no matter how much he tried he was still no match for my system of mighty organs, and the fact that I weighed, like, more than twice what he did. I laughed my best best evil villain laugh. "Haa haa haa! Surrender!"

His body quivered, and then he went limp as well. I looked over, momentarily concerned, but his eyes were glittering beyond his slack muzzle, tongue lolling out. "Very dramatic," I said dryly, sitting up enough to give his fuzzy shirtless body a rub. Myles scooted down a little bit, cuddling up to me and burying his face against my neck, something he seemed to do quite a lot.

I looked around the little pseudo-apartment, taking it all in. "Well," I announced, "you definitely live here now." I'd had to move a few things around, namely the futon and the entertainment centre, a grandiose term for what was essentially two-by-twelves and some cinder blocks. "I never realized how small this place was, but it's definitely full to capacity now."

I coughed and blushed when, at the words 'full to capacity', Myles began to roll his hips against mine.

"Not... quite what I meant."

He closed his jaws very gently onto my throat and sighed breathily. I closed my eyes and moaned softly, leaning back against the futon mattress and pulling him closer, unable to hide just how good that felt.

"So you're saying you don't want to play PlayStation?"

A small clawed paw skittered along my lower belly, and then vanished down the front of my jeans. My body jerked and melted against him, and his jaw worked higher. I was amazed at how wide he could unhinge that thing! The tiny pinpricks were like nothing I had felt before, and I could feel the tingling in my fingertips.

"Or... watch a movie..."

Five fuzzy fingers wrapped around me, and found that I needed no further prompting to come to full attention. I gripped his little rear and tugged him closer still, one hand stealing down between his thighs to softly brush my fingertips against his burgeoning package.

"I just got Netflix..."

Myles' other hand crawled up my spine and gripped the back of my head, pulling me down into a kiss that took my breath away. That was easy, though, I was already gasping from the intensity of his passion, to say nothing of the spectacular sensations of feeling his already-engorged sheath expanding against my groin like an inflatable pool toy.

"Exactly how much can your jeans hold?"

He seemed to twist and turn against me, pressing me against the back of the futon and giving himself a little more room. Not that he needed much room (his tail needed a few parsecs to orbit freely, but that was perfectly all right). I guess certain PARTS of him needed room, but a glance downwards confirmed that he was still fully clothed, for all the good it did him. A fig leaf would have done a better job at disguising his obvious arousal.

Another fuzzy clawed hand darted down the back of my pants, sinking those dark little points into my flesh. I gasped, each one feeling like... ok, you know those plasma balls where the cool blue-and-purple lightning leaps out and tries to zap your fingers when you touch it? That's what my ass felt like. I hope that wasn't too graphic for you.

Beneath my hands his sheath continued to swell. It must have doubled in thickness by now, and it was close to the size of his thigh. Did it do that last night? It couldn't have gotten that big, could it have? Well, maybe... it WAS dark. I stretched out my arm, tracing my fingertips down the hardening mound, not surprised to feel it ending just beyond his knee. It was quaking, though, quivering.

"Are you ok?"

The teeth clamped onto my neck were flexing and releasing, and he seemed to be gasping. His breathing was coming faster now. My hand scooted back up, pausing briefly to caress the impossibly overfull spheres of his bulging balls, and I found myself wondering if his jeans were a lycra blend of some sort, there was NO way denim could stretch like that.

"Myles...?"

His jaw clenched, and I yelped in surprise. I could feel his entire body spasm on the futon, but between the faint pain in my neck and the long scratches I was sure must now be decorating my rear it was hard for me to be too clear on how. I tried to pull back, and was surprised to find his jaw had gone slack again, and he was simply resting with his head on my arm and his eyes closed, panting softly.

"What-" I started, but then I finally figured out what had changed.

I glanced down again and was NOT surprised to find that the jeans really hadn't been up to the job. The rip started mid-shin on his left leg, and had split like a sail all the way to his belt. The blue cotton was now almost entirely hidden by the disgorged mass of his fuzzy black sac, easily wider than his hips and very nearly as wide as my own, and the oven-like heat of his freed sheath against my skin where my shirt had pulled up in the front.

"Er... was that my fault?" I asked softly, not even sure if I was trying to be funny or not.

He nodded, but his lips pulled back in a grin. His free hand traced slowly on my chest, and I sounded it out. "Nev-r. Hapn-d. B-4," I said, unable to keep the grin off my face. "I guess we learned an important lesson here: You must never wear pants in my home. Deal?"

His head popped up like a Jack-In-The-Box and he showed his acknowledgment by trying to suck my tongue out my mouth. I slumped back against the futon and he shifted slightly, bringing one leg and the bulk of his heavy and still-swelling endowments up onto my thighs. I hooked that raised knee with my hand and pulled him up higher, feeling as though he weighed no more than a feather.

I made a sad little 'awww' sound when he released me from his kiss and pulled away, but that became a slight moan of approval when I saw that he was sitting up on my lap now, and his own eyes were locked onto his dark, twitching nethers. The night before it had been nearly pitch black, and he was already far larger than he had been at any other time that morning.

"Oh my god," I whispered, wishing I could have been a little more poetic.

The cuff of his sheath was creaking audibly, so much swelling flesh trapped behind it. Myles was whimpering slightly, and I thought he was in pain until I saw the expression on his face and the naked desire in his eyes (yes, I managed to look up long enough to confirm that). With each beat of his heart the overtaxed mass raised up slightly, becoming erect simply due to pressure, well over a foot long and probably as big around as MY thigh now. My hands played along the swollen, sloshing slopes of his testes, heavy as medicine balls.

Gathering my courage, my hands moved forward, encircling (or at least trying to encircle) the base of his sheath, stroking it. It leapt in my hands, and with a speed that made me gasp it suddenly retracted, six inches of dark, fuzzy skin withdrawing to reveal eighteen inches of ruddy smooth cock. Freed from it's prison, much as he had been freed from his jeans before, Myles threw back his head and exhaled, probably the closest to a cry of ecstasy as he could get.

My hands continued to move, though, and I hefted the blazingly hot but only semi-hard weight of his cock. I could feel his pulse as easily as I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, each visible turgid flex of his veins just below the surface causing him to swell bigger, longer, thicker.

"Jesus," I moaned. It was bigger than the night before. It had to be! It sure felt like it.

His hands finally stopped grasping at air and found mine, squeezing them even as I was stroking him. "This is going to take some getting used to," I mumbled, giggling when I realized that his expanding foxhood was actually tickling my chest every time it inched forwards. He was perched on my upper thighs, and already the tapered tip was approaching my collarbone.

The nervousness was back. It was getting... awfully close to my mouth, not to put to fine a point on it. Sure, I had kissed it quite passionately the night before, but this was a smidgen different! Also, I had a basic understanding of physics, and this thing was close to the same circumference of my head at this point. Myles was watching me with interest now, head cocked to the side, a mischievous expression on his face.

"You're not helping," I said with a faint laugh, my hands drifting gently from just behind his flaring glans down to where his sac continued to rumble and swell. "I... god, I had dreams like this, you know."

The little coyfox just grinned and tapped his forehead. "You, too?" I asked, and he nodded.

His head bowed to the side in a very bashful way. He leaned forwards a little bit, slipped his hands beneath me, and squeezed my butt.

"Oh."

Myles winked, and bobbed his head low enough to lick my skin where my shirt was riding up again. "You're evil," I said, admiring how he had to actually move his head to the side to avoid the enormous girth of his shaft. "Flexible, but evil."

His surprisingly long tongue drifted from next to my belly button up and along his own dark, hardening flesh. My breathing quickened, having seen this before in my mind a few times and never once imagining I'd be lucky enough to see it. His knees squeezed, his hands gripped for purchase, and he thrust his hips once, surprisingly powerfully for someone of his diminutive size.

He didn't get far. Two inches, probably, maybe three, but it was enough that the so-red-it-was-almost-black tip of his cock was now very firmly pressed against my face.

The first thing I noticed, believe it or not, was not the several kilograms of engorged muscle and thinly-stretched skin against my face, but the scent. It was... it was indescribable, really. It was dense, it was musky, it smelled salty despite the impossibility of that, but it also smelled so much like how I remembered Myles smelling, magnified thousands of times. I recalled cuddling in his room, in my attic, in our tree fort, reading comics and listening to music, but anywhere we found ourselves I always ended up with my nose either buried in the back of his head, or against his tail, and I had never been able to define how that smell... smelled.

I still couldn't, but it was so potent and filling my mind with fond reminisces and half-forgotten recollections that it was making it hard to think straight.

He looked up at me, head resting on the broad surface of his cock, hips raised into the air from the spectacular spheres of his twin kitmakers. The weight on my hips was becoming difficult to ignore, and I wondered how much bigger he could get before I lost feeling in my toes.

"Wow," I said, pressing my lips against the tapered tip, my nose brushing the slightly pinkish slit. What else could I say? I would write poetry for him later. Seriously, I'm going to. Later chapters. Watch out for it. Right now? 'Wow' was covering all the bases.

He took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly, eyes half-lidded and smiling foolishly, tongue lolling against the side of his shaft.

We lay like that for a minute, my hands drifting from his shaft to encircle his slender body, squeezing him fondly. If it was going to be like this every time, I thought, I was definitely going to have to start looking into some stretching exercises. Except for his toes fiddling with my shins, his entire body was now laying completely on his own wildly proportioned nethers, and every now and then his body gave a little twitch, his nostrils whistled with sudden inhalation and those wondrous shapes swelled ever-so-slightly larger.

"I don't think they sell your size condom at the Fas Gas," I whispered, and he silently giggled. "Maybe they sell some for horses at the Purity Feed warehouse..." He punched my arm, but grinned down at me anyways.

Eventually I started to become aware of something other than the partially-naked coyfox pinning me to the futon, his weight vastly increased from what it had been ten minutes before. I was every bit as erect as he was, although mine was lost amidst the gently-swaying bulk of his sac. I could feel the fine tracework of veins crisscrossing his shaft through the thin fabric of my t-shirt, and a glance down confirmed that they were very noticeable. A semi truck rolled past on the nearby highway and the windows rattled.

I started to ask what he wanted me to do, since this was all slightly newer to me and I honestly had no idea where to start, but he spoke first.

Well, it wasn't exactly speaking. His lungs were working and his lips were moving, but it wasn't so much talking as it was snoring.

"Myles?"

He snuffled once, but his eyes didn't open. He snorted, cuddled up more securely against the immense surface of his cock, one hand drifting down to rest against my hip, his enormous tail coming to rest against his back like a blanket, and then very definitely fell into a deeper sleep.

I wanted to laugh at the ludicrous scene. I wanted to wail with despair. I wanted to see if I could wake him up by trying to fellate his tree-like cock. I wanted to tickle him until he couldn't breathe.

But I considered the night before, and I realized that he was going to be spending at least several days with me, and my body suddenly made the point that I had gotten maybe five hours of very poor-quality sleep, and I was now, in all likelihood, as comfortable as I was ever likely to be for the entire rest of my life.

"Ok," I yawned, my lips brushing against his sensitive skin causing him to shiver, "maybe just... a little nap..."

My hands found their way to his balls, now considerably wider than my hips and each one probably as large as one of those really, really big pumpkins you can get at the Buy'N'Low in October. They were warm, and despite their capacity were so full as to be almost hard, like a waterballoon about to pop. He didn't seem to be in any discomfort, so I HOPED nothing was in any danger, but it amazed me he could live like that and I had to wonder just how full they could get.

His snoring faded into a deep, rumbling purr that I could feel in my chest, and the weight of my eyelids became impossible to ignore.

"Tonight..." I murmured, sleep claiming me again, "you're mine..."

Chapter 12 - The Devil In The Kitchen

--------------------------------------------

I wasn't sure exactly what time it was when I finally woke up, slowly surfacing from dreams that I could not quite remember, but which had featured quite a lot of pink flesh, greyish-red fur and half-gasped moans.

The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was that I was now face-down on the futon, blue upholstery filling my vision. The second thing I noticed was that I was definitely alone on the futon. And the third thing I noticed was that someone seemed to be talking on the phone.

I reached up and gripped the top of the cushion, dragging myself mostly upright. I peeked over the top, taking in the entire open-concept but poorly-designed living space of Casa Del Bender. It was pretty clear after cursory examination that it had definitely been a storage space not too long ago, but it had everything we needed, even if it wasn't exactly opulent.

In the back of my mind, I started sifting through my bank-account information and pricing out beds. King-sized beds.

"Yeah, dad," he was saying, holding the little portable phone with his shoulder while looking in the fridge, "I know I bailed last time, but it's... it's just not a good night, ok? I forgot about it, that's all, and... no, I don't have PLANS, exactly, my calendar is clear, I just don't feel that good."

I looked out the sole lonely window by the steel security door and was surprised to see that it actually was starting to get dark outside. That had been some nap! I felt like a million bucks, though, so it was a small price to pay, but...

... then I remembered exactly HOW we had fallen asleep, and I kicked myself. I had been SO CLOSE!

I sat up a little and waved when he pulled his head out of the fridge, and I was not surprised to see him holding an enormous can with a definite lightning bolt logo. Ahhhh, Jolt. Some things never change. He waved, his eyes bright and sparkling, and I was relieved to see there was no resentment on his face for ruining the moment earlier.

"Hi! No, not you, Dad... no, there's... ok, yes, I do have someone over, but... no, it's not a girl, it's... well, you probably wouldn't remember, he's an old friend, but... look, how about we come over tomorrow night... oh, you're out tomorrow night. Well, how about... JEEZ, dad, fine! Ok, one second.

DL held the phone against his chest to muffle the receiver. He took a deep breath, and the reluctance was clear on his face. "Do you want to go over to my dad's house for dinner tonight?" he said, and it was obvious that he wanted me to say no.

I put two fingers in my mouth, took a deep breath, and let loose with my most piercing wolf-whistle.

His expression became agonized, but he was chuckling. "Yeah, dad, he... oh, you heard that, huh? Fine. Ok, we'll be over. Want me to bring potato salad?"

I slipped back below the top of the futon, giggling to myself. That had TOTALLY been worth it!

Oh, by the way, in case you haven't figured this out, this is Myles. I'm doing this chapter. I love DL to death, but he's been hogging this story for, what, like, TEN chapters?! I also feel as though he's been slightly misrepresenting my friendly demeanor, treating me like some hormonal sex-crazed punk rocker.

I'm more of a hormonal sex-crazed classic rocker, but does he ever mention my Bob Seger covers? No, of course not. He's so biased.

The phone conversation continued, but I figured that I had already done enough damage, so I just hid myself away, rolling onto my side and letting my tail breathe free for a few minutes. I had ended up with one leg pinning it and it was going through the pins-and-needles stage of waking up. I HATE when I do that.

I glanced down and beheld my ruined pants. That had been... well, awkward sure, but also more than a little surprising! I'd gotten aroused in pants before, and they'd always acted as decent containment, even if they had gotten so tight I thought I was going to blow an eyeball. But this, just making out with DL and hearing those lovely words had set me off like I've never been set off before. It was probably for the best I'd fallen asleep, a few more kisses and I might have drowned him, or at least completely ruined the living room.

I was mostly soft again, although since I'd not gotten a chance to 'take care' of myself and DL had kept me in a near-constant state of painful arousal since I saw him at the Bushfur show the other night, I was definitely bigger than normal. I had to spread my legs out wide just to get my balls to rest on the futon, and they were much fuller than I was used to. My sheath was a bit of a shock, though, it was WAY bigger than it should have been, sprawled comfortably in front of me. I reached out to squeeze it, wondering if I was already getting hard again, when I saw the strip of pink.

I blinked in confusion, and then grinned. Oh, DL, you remembered, I thought to myself.

I stood up, swaying a little unsteadily from the extra weight. Normally sheathed I was a solid fourteen soft, which put it just above my knee, though if it was a big concert I'd usually start thinking sexy thoughts during sound check just to add a few more inches for the front-row girls. Right now I was several inches thicker than normal, and there was a good handspan of exposed flesh beyond where SOMEONE had tied a pink ribbon around my cock.

DL came around the couch and saw me staring down at myself. He was still talking on the phone, but it was obvious that he was enjoying the view. "Yeah, dad. No, he doesn't eat much, he's a little guy. I'm sure he will. Yo, do you like spaghetti?"

I folded my arms pensively and looked skyward, the very picture of serious thought. His eyes, though, were locked on my lap, and the fact that I was wiggling my hips as provocatively as I knew how. I had learned most of my moves from MTV and old Elvis documentaries, but they had never failed me.

"Yeah... and meatballs dad. Gotta go, bye." The phone beeped, and then a hand whapped me upside the back of my braids. "Jerk!"

I tilted my head and grinned at him, wanting to call him worse. Instead I just gestured to the bow, reaching down and hefting my partially-retracted dick. He just feigned innocence, eyes wide. "What? You were asleep, and it was just laying there. I thought it needed some color."

I pouted and started to undo my pants. They were really only held together at the button and the very bottom of my left leg, and considering my current state they weren't even keeping my legs warm. They fell to the ground and I stepped out of them without a second glance, heading for where my laundry bags were stacked.

"Naked Tuesday already?"

I boffed DL with my tail and started to rummage. I had a lot of clothes, but living on the road I had learned it was sometimes easier just to buy new stuff at thrift stores every week than find a laundromat and wash everything. Several of these bags had been purchased 'as-is' and I had not yet even opened them.

He appeared next to me and glanced into the nearest bag. He untied the cord and pulled out a lacy pink thong, looking at me quizzically. "Is it strictly a comfort thing?" he chuckled.

Of course, some bags contained girl clothes, too. Not much of a problem for me, considering that they WERE really comfortable, and sometimes a pink skirt was just what the doctor ordered, but I usually just dropped off the excess at the next thrift store I found myself at. I snatched the undies from his hand and clutched them to my chest in mock horror.

"Oh, relax," he said with a wink, standing up and looming over me, "your secret is safe with me, and all the girls who try to yank your pants down every night."

I held up three fingers, reconsidered, then held up all ten little fuzzy digits. Really, there were more than a few gropes, but it's not like I really minded the attention. Besides, they had a little page on the Lacuna Coyle Spacebook page for the people who had second-based my crotch, and it was good publicity. My junk was probably more famous than me by this point.

I found a few pairs of pants, and stood up to examine them critically. One pair was too big, one was too small, and the third was... well, not just right. I'd have been happier if they had a little more room in the thigh, but DL would probably be happier if I just wore the thong, so I decided that splitting the difference was a good compromise. I am nothing if not accommodating!

They slipped on fine to my knees, but the rest of the distance required a lot of hopping and jumping and tugging. DL was leaning against the wall and trying to catch his breath he was laughing so hard, the big dork, but I managed it. The last few inches came in a single yank, and I winced when my tail took the brunt of the impact. I mouthed "Ow," but just shrugged and buttoned them up, turning around to get his approval.

"You want to wear that... to my dad's house?"

I looked down and held up my hands as though I couldn't see what the problem was.

"You didn't even take the ribbon off!"

Truly, there was a noticeable strip where the skintight white denim hugged the pink strip, and I was still a little overly-plumped up, my traditional bulge extending beyond my knee, but I just grinned, tracing a single claw over the straining zipper.

DL was blushing, though, and he kept glancing down to the ground. "It's... it's my dad, remember? He was about as thrilled about... about you and me being friends as your dad was."

My ears fell. I was hoping to be greeted with news that DL and his dad had gotten past all that, and that maybe my big boy had come out of the closet, but no such luck. I started to unbutton my pants, but his hands were there in a flash, pink and handsome and strong.

"Maybe... maybe this would be the best way to tell him," he said softly, and I could see that it wasn't easy for him to say. "I'm not ashamed of you, Myles. I'm... cripes, I'm proud of you, and proud to be seen with you, and this will probably get the hard part out of the way."

I pat my straining left thigh again and licked at his neck reassuringly. He chuckled and hugged me back. "Ok, maybe the hard part will be when we get back tonight..." I rumbled deep in my throat and nipped at him once before slipping out of his grasp, tail swaying behind me. I was capering over a faux-persian rug that looked like it had once decorated the entranceway of a Flying J truck stop when two great arms encircled me from behind and I found myself lifted into the air.

People have always commented on my tail. Probably because they want to comment on some OTHER parts of me, and find this a useful analogue. 'Wow, that's a big.... tail,' they'd say, with special emphasis on the pause. 'Why is your... tail so big?'

You want to know something? Here, come closer to the screen. Seriously, closer than that. I've been drinking, my typing is not really perfect. Dog bless spell check. Anyways, you wanna know something?

I don't know why I look the way I do.

I was a shrimpy kid. DL probably already covered this, but I was small for a coyfox. Heck, the few coyfoxes there are out there aren't all that big to start with, what with coyotes and foxes getting along about as well as a Scottish terrier and a British tabby, but I was smaller than Willie, and he was a mouse. An honest-to-god mouse. Big ears and pink tail and everything. He had an INCH on me. And I was smaller.

Two things I had to make up for it: my tail, which was nearly as big as me when it was all poofed out (and if it was an unusually hot, dry day, it was definitely casting the bigger shadow), and my junk, which had started growing before I even moved to Forks.

It wasn't a HARMFUL condition, really. Heck, it wasn't much of a condition at all. Furres were known to have hypertrophic genes across the species spectrum, and certainly across the gender spectrum. Foxes, in fact, have one of the few instances of dominant genetic hypertrophism, though my mom insists there was no-one like that in HER family. Even so, hypers generally didn't start to really show their colors until puberty, when the good old hormones that give you acne and a squeaky voice bring an atom bomb down onto your gonads.

My skin is perfect and my voice has only improved, so I guess they just decided to drop the bomb early.

If it hadn't been for DL, I honestly don't know what would have happened to me. I was an angry kid. I went home every day from school, bruised and sore and bleeding, and usually nursing a very chafed sheath, signed that I was doing just fine at school, and then went up to my room and cried. And listened to music. If they had invented emo bangs back then, I probably would have had those, too. I was pretty pathetic.

And then one day, three boys had me down. You might remember this part from Chapter 7. You can go back and check. I won't mind. We both know DL's the writer between the two of us.

I'd been hassled before school, after school, and even a few times in the boys washroom. I was no stranger to bullies, but I was no fighter. I wasn't even a lover, yet. I wasn't anything. I just assumed this was how the world went, with the bigger people pounding on the smaller. They laughed, I cried, the sun rose the next day, right?

I wish I could hug everyone reading this who knew what I was talking about.

So it happened at lunch hour one day, which was pretty ballsy of them, but I guess the teacher's assistants were all hanging out on the other side of the school. These three kids thought it was just the APEX of humor to shove me around and tell me they'd stop if I asked them to. I was young and hopeful, so I signed the best I could, but that didn't work, and really just made them shove me more. So much for that.

And then, WHAM, it was DL time. He was big, even back then. He sat at the back of the class, and even between Yajirobe's antlers you could see his blue-green eyes. He never seemed... well, he never seemed to be anything other than big. He didn't raise his hands in class, he didn't get bad enough marks to get red frowny faces next to his coat hook and he never got enough bonus marks to get gold stars. He ate his lunch, and any other lunches that happened to be nearby, and then he spent all lunch hour sitting in the Space Ball in the playground, reading comic books.

Hell, even I thought he was weird.

And then he was my hero.

No-one had ever stood up for me before. Well, some kids were all "Oh, leave him alone, he can't defend himself," and "it's not nice to pick on cripples," but this was insane. It was like some weird kung-fu movie where no-one knew kung-fu. I think he won that first fight out of luck and pluck more than anything, but it worked. Every time I saw him after that, it was like a tiny chorus of trumpets in my mind.

And then, given my age, I mistook friendship for something more.

He's covered all the awkward stuff already, and I guess there's nothing more to add except to say that I loved him the way I did because I didn't know the difference. Now I love him the way I do because I DO know the difference. The semantic douchebags out there might say that there's no difference at all, but I think there is, and I think DL does, too.

Oh, good. He's nodding.

Where was I?

Oh, right.

DL, my big strong DL, had hoisted me into the air, and was taking enormous steps around the little apartment, yelling something about him being Godzilla and me being Jane. I thrashed, trying to free myself, but not REALLY trying to free myself TOO much, when his words became sputters and coughing against my tail. I tried to withdraw it, but it was pinned between my back and his chest, and, well, like I said, it sort of has a life of it's own.

Eventually his irrational desire for oxygen won out and he dumped me on the futon, leaving him wheezing for a minute. I stared up at him with concern, but he just waved me away. "My fault. Tail was up. Gbbyyeaagh. No problem. Just... fur in my mouf."

I waggled my eyebrows at him, and he just bopped me on my braids. "Quiet, you."

Feigning innocence, I tapped my wrist. He looked at me. "There's a clock right over there..."

I shook my head, tapped my wrist, and then shoved imaginary noodles into my maw. "Oh, dinner! Uhm... six-ish? It's only like three o'clock now." He leaned down, resting his arms on the top of the couch. "So... how do you want to kill some time?"

I glanced down, saw that I was wearing pants and threw up my hands in exasperation. Of all the rotten luck! DL just laughed, shaking his head. "Ok, fine, maybe I sort of ruined the mood earlier."

My head was right up against his a moment later and I glared. "Ok, well... maybe you fell asleep on your cock before I ruined the mood," he admitted grudgingly, though his eyes sparkled. "But that tired old excuse isn't going to fly again!"

I started to mime something vague and complicated, just to weaken his defenses before I pounced. "Mff!" he said around my lips, which just meant that I wasn't applying enough force. I gripped his shoulders and pulled harder, managing to get my jaw open a little wider. I could kiss with just the front of my muzzle, sure, but unlike those tragically disadvantaged humans I still had a lot of lip going to waste.

Inside, though, I was nervous. I know he wanted to go further than just kissing and getting a serious lap-ful of aroused coyfox, and fucking hell if I didn't want to go further, but... you can't really blame me for being nervous can you?

DL had had Tanya. DL had had a couple girlfriends, and I suppose I had, too, although it was never really consummated. Not technically. There had been nudity, and kissing, and moaning, and all that good stuff, but it just never seemed to be... right.

I had gotten close to orgasm, I had gotten DAMNED close. One girl had almost worn me down raw with her silky paws, she was so frenzied, but there had been no magic, no little chorus of trumpeting angels, no perfect moment. Everytime I tried to think of what was wrong with me, it came back to a feeling of emptiness, of incompletion.

And every time I tried to figure out what I was missing, I came back to 1998, and DL, and the way I had ruined his life.

Yeah, yeah, we're past all that NOW, but I'm trying to get this off my chest, ok? He's telling a very one-sided story.

Where was I again? Right, I was sucking his tongue out of his head.

We parted with a fuzzy pop, and he was gasping for air again. I just grinned, leaning against him and dragging one claw along his neck, watching his little bony thing bob up and down. What did humans call those things? Apple dumplings? It was cute, anyways.

"So that's a yes... on PlayStation?" he said breathily.

I glanced over at the little stack of games, and then back to him. I started sketching on the nape of his neck, one of my favorite places to doodle, along the sizeable expanse just above his collarbone. He froze, mentally spelling out each letter just the way he used to do when we were kids. Then he smiled.

"Strip Zelda doesn't really work..."

---

As it turns out, Strip Zelda works just fine if he plays, and I start taking off my clothes next to the television and throwing them at him. It's hard to say who won.

However, I managed to keep it in my thong, to coin a phrase. I know I was being a hell of a tease, since they say play to your strengths and I was a professional tease in addition to the whole 'singing' thing I did, but I didn't want to start over again before we went out for dinner. This would almost qualify as a date, and I told him so.

"A date... at my dad's house," he said, thumbs button-mashing wildly. "I can think of more romantic locations than that. Like maybe the DMV? We could go there next time, and then after that, the Twilight Fan Shoppe."

From the look on his face, I could tell my reaction wasn't all that he had hoped for. "Ohhh, god, you WOULD like Twilight, wouldn't you?"

I nodded manically. It wasn't that the writing was particularly good (it wasn't) or that the characters possessed any great depth (they didn't) or that I really liked vampires (I totally did, though). What I really liked about it was that it was based in my hometown, or at least the town where I spent two wonderful years, and it was a story of a very unlikely and unrealistic romance, and I was nothing if not unrealistic.

DL finished off the level while I went to go find a slightly less inappropriate pair of pants. The white ones were sweet, and I TOTALLY had to wear those on stage some night, but I didn't want DL's dad seeing every last nook and cranny of my pouch. I had already resigned myself to the knowledge that I was going to be substantially bigger than normal for the whole night, since I hadn't blown off any steam for the past few days. Besides, if me and my boy actually DID go all the way tonight, I wanted it to be memorable for him.

The ribbon still tied around me strained, and I sighed. Well, memorable would certainly be one way to put it. Even soft I knew I was probably to big to fit anywhere warm and inviting, and hard... well, maybe it just wasn't my destiny.

I searched through another bag and was rewarded with some sweet purple cords that actually had a bit of flex in them. I grinned when the tag confirmed 10% lycra, and headed back to the television, feeling DL's eyes on me. I was naked from the shirt down, since underwear was largely decorative for someone with my dimensions, and the sound of Link dying messily on the screen made me laugh.

I glanced over and sure enough, he was still pushing buttons but his eyes were on me. I tapped the screen and he blinked, smiled and blushed. "Sorry. Something distracted me. Can't imagine what it could have been."

I held up my hands, giving the universal 'I don't know!' sign, and started to cram myself into the new pants. DL's breathing got faster, and the redness was spreading from his cheeks to take in his whole face. That was one thing I sort of liked about humans... they had such a hard time hiding their true feelings. The purple trousers hoisted higher and higher, and I had to pause to manually stuff my sheath down one of the pantlegs and try to arrange my sac into something that wouldn't pinch and pull whenever I walked.

Hey, it's not easy looking like this! A lot of people tell me they're jealous, but there's a lot of stuff I can't do without either causing a scene or creating some very unpleasant bruises. I hopped up and down, free flesh bobbing and DL suddenly had to cross his legs. The pants stretched higher, the lycra hugging my unique shape, and I sucked in my stomach to get them the rest of the way up. The button fastened without any troubles, but the zipper took me another minute. By the time I was done I was breathing hard, and DL's eyes had glazed over.

"Fwah."

I just grinned at him and wiggled my hips, gesturing down at myself with my eyebrows raised. He picked up on that easily enough. "You look great," he said weakly. "I'm sure my dad won't suspect a thing."

I sauntered over, tail wagging happily, and dropped heavily onto his lap. He didn't even flinch from the impact and I leaned against his chest, comforted by his presence. I know he wasn't, like, HUGE for a human, but to me he was enormous, and those heavy arms wrapping around me were like the security blanket I never had, and the rock-hard bulge beneath my rump was just the sign that I was doing something right.

He leaned back on the futon, pulling me with him like a rag doll. I stared up at him meaningfully, gesturing to my lap again and then tapping him on the forehead. "Yes, I'm sure it's fine," he said. "Look, I TOLD you. Dad might have been against us being that close when we were kids, but I'm a grownup and he can go to hell. Besides, these pants actually leave a LITTLE bit to the imagination."

A big pink hand came to rest on the front of my pants, and I licked helpfully at his neck. "There's a lot to be said for... imagination..." he started to say before I finally convinced him to just shut the hell up and kiss me.

The next thing I knew I was laying on top of him and there were hands everywhere, but he was careful to keep them away from anything that might grow out of control. They wandered down my back and little tingles shot through my tail when he gripped my rear and pulled me me higher. I let out a little silent whimper, feeling so much of his body sliding past my sheath and coaxing me larger, but he broke the kiss reluctantly. "Maybe," he gasped, "we should.. wait... a bit..."

I nodded in agreement and started to kiss down his neck, scooting back down his body with malice aforethought. I was nibbling my way down his chest when his hands gripped my shoulders urgently, and he said "I meant BOTH of us... should wait!" There was a slightly panicked squeak in his voice that made me grin, and I looked up at him, licking my lips. My hands continued to drift, though, one going for the zipper on his jeans and the other going for the button-fly, but when he opened his mouth to protest I just rolled my eyes and relaxed against him, my hands moving to the neutral territory of his hips.

"S-sorry," he said from far above me while I nuzzled his sternum, "it's just... after, ok? We have to go see my dad in about twenty minutes."

My head popped up and I started to go for his pants again, but he laughed and struggled against me. "Ok, I KNOW it won't take that long," he said, "but I... ack, stop it, that tickles, I... I just want to keep my head straight for this one, ok? Trust me, I won't be telling you to stop next time! ACK!"

I had gotten one hand down the front of his pants and was giving him a very friendly hello when I decided to maybe relent. Just this one time. I mouthed the word ~Fi-i-i-i-ine~, pulled my hands back and flumphed myself onto his chest, curling up comfortably.

His arms wrapped around me, and he heaved a sigh that lifted me several inches into the air. I started to sketch on his chest, wondering if maybe I had to invest in a Speak-And-Spell or something. It was fun, but time-consuming and one of these days that was going to bite me in the ass.

DL pondered my fingertip. "Am I sure he'll like you? Well... there's going to be stuff to talk about, that's for sure. If what you say is true, then he got the mail you sent, and never told me about it." I nodded, pleased that I didn't have to try and spell THAT out. "But I don't think... well, my dad's changed. A lot. When I was in high school, and he lost his job, it... it was like a different person, but it more seemed like it was the OLD him coming back. I've heard stories from his friends, he wasn't always such a stick-in-the-mud. We actually hang out sometimes these days, go shoot some pool or go fishing or just sometimes grab a bottle of Wiser's and hang out."

I smiled. I was a little worried to meet Mr Bender, since I hadn't seen him since they had quite literally torn us apart that late summer day so many years ago. There had been hatred on my dad's face, but the look on DL's dad's was just... I could have sworn it was just sadness. Disappointment and sadness.

I nipped at DL's chest, and he twitched. "Look, I bet it's going to be awkward as hell, but I'm not going to put up with any bullshit from him if he tries to make this hard on you, ok?"

I nodded, tickling at his ribs with my fingertips. I did trust him, maybe more than I trusted anyone else in the world, except for James and Ricky. They knew what they were getting when they hired me to front the band... even if my voice hadn't been so good, they still might have picked me just for the press I received. The fact that I could, with all modesty, fucking wail was just a bonus. Eighteen months of touring, though, had made us closer than just co-workers. They were the brothers I never had, and between the two of them probably the dad I never had, to boot.

I made one more valiant attempt to get his pants off, but he quickly overpowered me, laughing ruefully. "We'll make up for lost time," he said, bringing his face down close to mine, eyes wide and nervous, "trust me." I nuzzled his scruffy day-old growth of beard and smiled. If I could talk, I'd probably have said something wonderfully romantic. Go watch a Hugh Grant movie, and pretend it would have been like that.

It wasn't long before we found ourselves heading up the narrow little staircase off of the tiny landing beyond a well-worn security door between the Big'N'Tall clothing shop and a Starbucks. Most of the storefronts off of the main Forks drag had apartments above them, and if you didn't mind the sounds and smells of the local businesses it was a good deal. His dad's apartment always smelled of dry-cleaning soap and coffee, which was an interesting but invigorating mixture to say the least, and let's face it, there were far worse. I was carrying a two-liter bottle of Coke and DL had a two-six of Wiser's Special Blend, an inexpensive whiskey that DL assured me was actually really, really good. I was a beer drinker, personally, since I had a thing for sparkling beverages, but I promised to give it a try.

That, and I figured a drunk DL would be a little easier to take advantage of later.

The top of the stairway had two doors, simply labeled A and B. DL knocked on the A door, and waited nervously. I was holding the bottle of pop protectively in front of me, gauging the diameter of the bottle to the diameter of the bulge in my pants and deciding that it was too close to call. I wanted to ask DL's opinion, but this might not have been the best time. He was almost vibrating with anticipation. I squeezed his butt sympathetically, and he gave a startled squeak when the door opened.

"ACK! Er... hi, dad."

What followed was one of those moments where, in the movies, dramatic high-pitched violins war with low, reverberating cellos. DL looked at his dad. His dad looked at DL, and then looked at me. I looked at him, and saw his eyes grow wider as they panned down my body. My tail swished, and I looked up at DL. DL looked at me, fearful but with a hardness to his stare that gave me home. Just for kicks, I looked at DL's dad and winked, which only caused him to snap his eyes back to DL, wide and incredulous.

"Dad, this is Myles."

Daniel Lewis Bender gave no other sign of surprise. "Yes, I remember. It's good to see you, Myles."

Daniel was bigger than DL, but while my big boy was young and strong and well-rounded, Daniel seemed to be showing the effects of age and gravity. He was broader in the shoulder, and had a lot more obvious muscle, but he was also heavier around the middle, and the stubble on his face did not hide the red skin that was beginning to wrinkle around the edges. He put me in mind of a professional wrestler who had retired ten years before.

I stuck out my hand, grinning with a bravery I did not feel. I wanted to hide behind my tail and cower. He shook it, and moved backwards, gesturing for us to come in. I strode through the door confidently, holding DL's hand and pulling him in.

The apartment was small, but looked a lot nicer than I would have expected. Nice hardwood, nice furniture, lots of bookshelves. For an ex-prison guard, it was a little more upscale than one would assume, and I felt a little bad for making that sort of an assumption. I didn't know much about Daniel from when we were kids, except he was huge and didn't seem to like me.

DL seemed stuck, frozen with fear. I squeezed his hand, and when that didn't work I kicked him in the shins. He squawked and glared down at me, but then chuckled and ran his hand through his hair. "Sorry about that. We brought something to drink."

I held up my bottle with pride, chuckling inwardly. People think that because of my braids I can't see anything, but in fact my vision was hardly affected at all. Being so close to my eyes actually meant a stereoscopic image was still easy to create, and I had excellent peripheral vision, so I don't think Daniel realized that I saw the little smile on his face when I kicked his son. Well, a smile was a good sign!

Right?

"Oh, well isn't that nice? This might almost make up for the three you've drank so far this year," he said, but there was a faint chuckle in his voice. "How're you doing, Myles?"

"Come on, I hardly drank the last one at all..."

"That you can remember, and I was talking to Myles."

I opened my mouth and made vague little whirling gestures with my hands, which I found was the best and most universal way to get my condition across. Daniel blinked, but said evenly "Still?" I nodded, and he sighed. "Sorry to hear that."

DL started to say something, and I knew it was going to be about my singing, and I kicked him again. He winced and hopped up on one foot, shooting me a confused look, but he said nothing. Later, I thought at him.

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out one of the little cards I had prepared on the drive over. Daniel took it while DL went to go put the drinks in the kitchen, reading aloud. "'Hello, Mister Bender', well, isn't that respectful. 'I'm glad to see DL has grown up into such a smart young man. I'm sorry for... for anything I might have done to upset you when we were kids, and I'm writing all this down on the back of a cue card because I still can't talk.' That does sum things up rather nicely, doesn't it?"

There was the sound of glasses clinking from the little galley kitchen, and I realized I was alone with DL's dad, towering above me like a building about to fall over. I shuffled my bare feet, my tail wrapping briefly around my midsection subconsciously before it wandered off to inspect a nearby potted plant. He glanced down at me, at the clearly overstuffed purple pants, and then at my braids.

"Come on into the kitchen and have a seat," he said, his voice seeming to be a little more subdued. "Any more cards you want me to read?"

I nodded and tapped my wrist. "Later then," he agreed, and I was impressed at how quickly he picked up on my pidgin. This would be easier than I thought!

The kitchen was surprisingly large, even if the white-on-white-on-white motif was a little glaring under the fluorescent lights. A little red hanging light was suspended over a large oak table that dominated the open space, and it was set for four. DL was standing by the microwave, already sipping a dark, fizzing drink in a heavy glass tumbler, and from the levels of both the Coke and whiskey bottles I could tell it wasn't a virgin cocktail.

I cocked my head, trying to figure out the fourth plate, when someone came through the other passageway at the far end of the kitchen. She was a little taller than me, but not by much, and had a shock of red hair that looked like a high-speed photo of an explosion. Her curves were best described as 'extremely ample', and there was a tremendous amount of orange fur visible around her tiny baby-doll t-shirt and tiny black skirt.

"DL, honey!" the sultry tabby squealed, giving my boy a hug and a peck on the cheek. "Good to see you, hon! And who's your little friend here?"

DL blushed and chuckled. "Rosie, this is Myles. Myles, this is Rosie. Dad's girlfriend."

Rosie held up a paw and laughed loudly. "Girlfriend? I told you he doesn't come over often enough, Danny boy! I'm his FIANCEE!"

DL's eyes widened when he saw the engagement ring, and I was staring openly, too. I looked up at Daniel, who was still as stoic as ever, but there was a look of... pride on his face? It could be pride. Maybe gas.

"Uhm... congratulations?"