FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Soulflower Festival

• By Kichigai Kitsune

Disclaimer: this story contains graphic scenes of "non-consensual" as well as consensual eroticism and sexual activity between young furry creatures (cubs). If you are not legally allowed to read such material, or find this material distasteful, do not proceed beyond this disclaimer.

If you do proceed, you agree to not hold the author or the hosting site responsible for any consequences or complain to anybody about your offended sensibilities after you made the informed choice to read on.

Part 2.

For the first time in his memory, Lachlan found himself pulling free of the sticky, warm embrace of sleep, his senses struggling to focus on the sound of morning birdsong.

Groaning, the shirtless arctic sat up, rubbing his gray-blue eyes lethargically. Bright early-morning light came in through the window he had forgotten to close, illuminating his unfamiliar surroundings.

Thankfully, he was too tired to panic, because at first he had no idea where he was. That always happened to him - his friends always looked at him like he was nuts whenever he freaked out in the morning after a sleepover. They seemed to be immune.

With a sigh, he flopped spread-eagled out on the bed again. Though there was no clock or anything, and his cell phone was turned off and in his suitcase, Lachlan was sure it was early in the morning. It felt early.

Was there even any point in getting up?

Faintly he could hear other kids in the distance. Judging by the voices, they were of various ages, both younger and older than he. Lachlan knew he'd never work up the courage to go over and ask if he could play with them too.

He was ten, goin' on eleven. Not four. Kits his age didn't go up to others and plead to be able to play with them. Besides, these Welsh islander-kits wouldn't want anything to do with him.

There was a knock on the bedroom door and Lockie gave a quiet grunt in response. He wasn't being rude, he had just woken up.

"Lockie, hun?" his mom called gently. "It's time to get up. We're all going to the festival."

Though that didn't exactly fill the kit with joy, he sat up again and slowly got to his socked paws. "... Alright."

"You've got to have a bath though. It's a bit of a formal occasion."

Lockie groaned and opened his room door. He blinked in surprise: his mother was wearing a simple white dress, made of soft linen. Her fur was pristinely white, like she had been tightly wrapped in springtime clouds. A gentle smile settled onto Lachlan's face for some reason.

"I'll get you some clothes," his mother told him, smiling back. She reached out with an oddly affectionate paw and brushed his cheek. "Just go on in and make sure to use the shampoo. Okay?"

"Alright..." Lachlan nodded.

His parents were affectionate, and he didn't mind that too much. Provided there was nobody around to make fun of him, Lachlan saw no reason to object to letting his parents show they loved him and wanted to touch him.

Except, of course, when he was feeling cantankerous due to sea sickness.

Shirtless still, the arctic kit shuffled behind his mother as he was led to the bathroom. With another promise to use the shampoo, he shuffled onto the tiled floor and shut the door. It was a typical enough bathroom, only smaller and there was no shower.

The window was high and offered no view into the room. Good. Lachlan sighed and stripped, dumping his fashionable clothes on the tiles a few feet from the bath. When he finished peeling his socks off, he leaned over the tub and twisted the tap.

As he waited for the water to warm, fully aware that every water heating system was different, Lockie caught sight of his nude, snowy-furred body in the mirror behind the sink, and he looked over to grin shyly at himself.

He was proud of his brilliantly white coat. His father's was a little gray, almost blue, but he had inherited his mother's angelic, soft pelt.

Absently, he rubbed his belly with both hands, just waiting for the bathwater to warm and observing himself in the mirror. His furless, juvenile member twitched and waggled as he did, widening his sleepy grin.

What could he say? He was a typical young boy, getting ready to enjoy a bath.

When the tub looked mostly full, he dipped a foot-paw in, letting his toes breach the water's surface. He winced - evidently, he had twisted one of the taps a little too hard. Hesitating for several moments, steeling himself, Lachlan finally managed to force himself to step into the steaming water, slowly submerging both ankles, reaching over to increase the flow of cold water.

Coils of steam slowly floated up from the bath, misting the small room. Lachlan sat on the edge of the bath and sighed, waiting until he could work up the bravery to take the next step: going to his knees in the hot water.

A festival, huh. He used to love attending the state faire back home, but he doubted this little island could pull off anything like that.

What sort of festival were they here for? What special occasion had he been dragged half-way around the world to sit through and pretend to care about?

... Even weirder, why did they have special clothes for the day? The "festival clothes" as his dad had called them. Heck, even his mom was dressed a little weird this morning; Lachlan had never seen that white dress before.

Did they have clothes for him too? He didn't mind the idea of wearing just shorts in public, he did that all the time at home... but it just felt weird to think about doing it here. He was an outsider, it wouldn't be right for him to dress like they did.

At last, he slipped off the bath's edge and sank himself up to his knees in the stinging water. Still too hot, but bearable. There was a small bottle of shampoo on the other edge of the tub, so Lachlan grabbed it. It was just a clear plastic container - no brand name, no ingredients list...

He popped the lid off and sniffed it. It smelled sweet and soapy. Almost flowery. Big shock.

These islanders really liked their flowers. Lachlan didn't have the slightest idea why: flowers were boring. Some of them smelled okay, but this was bordering on obsession.

With a mental shrug, he squirted some of the liquid into a paw, then sat the bottle on the edge of the bath. Realizing he was still dry above his thighs, he thought quickly and scooped up some water in the other paw.

It wasn't until he had vigorously rubbed the lavender-like scented soap into his chest that he realized there was no shower or anything like that. It was going to take forever to rinse himself off.

Lachlan swore aloud. "I hate this island!" he grumped, shaking his head and deciding to just get on with it.

Luckily, somnolence still clung to him, so he easily shook away the irritation and relaxed, stretching out in the generously sized tub. The water was hot and soothing, and despite it all, the soap's scent was wonderful. The steam that rose all around him was tinged with the fragrance of spring, and Lockie had to admit it was nice.

A contented sigh came to him unbidden and the kit felt tension unnoticed slip from his muscles. For a bath in the morning, this was kinda awesome. Really relaxing.

As he lay there, his mind strangely clear, Lachlan absently rubbed at his torso, massaging the soap through his dense, white fur, sinking lower and lower until only his chest poked out from the foamy water.

"Hrmm..." he moaned quietly, closing his eyes.

Ever since he was very little, he had enjoyed the privacy and comfort of bath-time. It was just awesome.

Time slipped by, and Lachlan found himself almost dropping off again. All over, he just felt heavy and calm, so content, despite being in a new and alien place. A sleepy, gentle paw roamed over his body, at first massaging his belly, then at last venturing below...

Last night suddenly shouldered its way to the forefront of his memory. An overwhelming, intense need to rub himself until that strong feeling... He didn't feel that at the moment, as curious as it was. But Lachlan was a young boy, and his paws had a habit of acting on their own when he was alone and so ineffably comfortable.

Which is why, naturally, there was a sudden thumping on the door. The arctic kit jumped, splashing water over the tub's edge.

"Lockie?" called his mother. "Come on, little guy. You've been in there for half an hour. We've got to go soon. Come on out, please."

Lachlan cursed to himself, pulling himself upright. "Ugh, alright! Gimme a minute, okay?"

"I've got a change of clothes for you in your room."

"Okay." The kit hauled himself to his paws, bending to pull the tub's plug and grab a pristine white towel. With a sigh, he stepped out onto the woolen mat and started to rub his sodden fur down.

He caught sight of himself in his aunt's mirror. A slender, yet tautly muscled boy, wearing a sleepy, bitter expression. He met his own eyes and sighed, he and his reflection sharing a look of irritation and resignation. He wouldn't even be able to relax and enjoy himself here, it seemed. This was a joke of a holiday.

But hey! Maybe this fair would be cool. Lachlan rooted around inside of his slightly bitter psyche for a glimmer of optimism.

Somehow, he found one.

"Alright, island," he muttered facetiously, smirking at himself in the foggy, blurry mirror. "Bring it on."

It was only an hour later that Lockie found himself slumped in a wooden chair, bored mindless.

He stared down at his sneakers, waiting for something, anything to happen. For someone to talk to him and give him something to do.

A throng of furs sat behind him, either on chairs or on picnic blankets - entire families, a veritable crowd of all ages, milled around behind him, their constant chatter filling the glade with noise. Lockie and his family had front row seats, although to what, Lockie was not sure.

A slightly raised wooden dais, a dozen or more feet squared, sat only a few feet before him, erected around a majestic oak tree which sat as a centerpiece to the stage, shielding it from the ominous gray clouds it with its great limbs and dense leafage.

Lachlan sighed and rubbed at his exposed knee. His mother had laid out a simple white t-shirt and brown shorts for him; ensuring he was dressed like a local, or at least in their 'festival colors.' It annoyed him a little, he had hoped to dress the way he usually did, and stand out a little bit. Jeans, a two-piece layered set of a long-sleeved, grey t-shirt topped by a short-sleeved black one with a picture of a dragon, and his awesome black fedora with a short brim would've ensured that.

Instead, his mother had veritably forced him to wear this boring ensemble. Guh!

It wasn't right for him to dress like the kids that lived here! Was it?

Looking around, Lachlan was unsurprised to see that the crowd had gathered in a clearing... All about them, especially on the other side of the dais - or stage, as he imagined it would eventually be - was a sea of thick trees and those oddly colored flowers. The pungent, purple and white ones he had seen since his arrival. He could smell their strangely complex scent every time the wind picked up.

His mother and father sat on either side of him, allowing Lachlan to relax a little. Each individual family or group in the island-wide gathering gave a reasonable amount of space to others, but Lachlan felt far more comfortable in this odd environment when flanked by his reliable mother and strong, tough father.

"Are you okay, Lockie?" muttered his father, leaning close to his ear.

"Yeah." The kit nodded vaguely, still staring at his sneakers.

His mother ruffled his head-fur. "Leave him alone, dad," she admonished. "He's tired. It's early in the morning."

"I'm not tired," muttered Lachlan defensively. "I'm just bored, waiting for something to happen." He shifted slightly. "What's this festival about?!"

"It's complicated," his father replied. Then he paused. "Listen, Lockie. I know this is gonna be strange to you, but trust me. It's gonna be okay."

Lockie blinked. "Oooo-kaaay. Why wouldn't it be?"

His dad just winked at him. "Just in case. You'll get it." But his mother scowled and whacked her husband on the arm lightly. "Ow!"

The boy frowned for a brief moment. Whatever. His parents were definitely keeping something from him. As always, they thought it was funny.

Movement caught his eye, directing him to look at the dais.

His aunt, garbed in a simple white gown, rustic and yet somehow something that looked oddly regal, had ascended a set of stairs, appearing from the back of the raised stage. She walked, her gait measured and purposeful, to the front of the platform.

The entire crowd quieted behind him. A reverential hush, the weight of which was not lost on Lachlan. He fell still instantly.

The matronly vixen smiled at the assembled crowd. Slowly, her paws spread welcomingly. "All of you," she said, her soft voice carrying in the sudden silence, "brothers and sisters all, I greet you. I welcome you to this Festival of the Soulflower."

... Soulflower? Lockie sat up slightly, curious. Maybe now he'd get some insight into the island's flower-obsession.

His aunt continued. "It's a time of great important to all of us," she said seriously, her lilting accent almost musical. "A time of great significance, where our deepest beliefs are reaffirmed and our hopes for a happy future strengthened." Suddenly, she grinned. "However, I'm sure many of us know this, and would rather we begin the festivities! Isn't that right?"

A thin cry came up from the crowd, and not a few giggles.

Ruth simply laughed and clapped her paws once. "Of course, we have special guests this time. My long lost sister, her husband, and their beautiful son, all the way from America. There they are, just at the front of the crowd. Welcome, Lilly, Andy and Lachlan."

Another cheer, and Lachlan felt his ears burning. His father just chuckled and ruffled his head-fur tenderly.

"Now, the Soulflower Festival is a celebration of many things, but most importantly, it is a celebration of life, youth and the promises they bring for the future." Ruth smiled. "It is a special day for the children of this island, even more so than for the rest of us. On this day, beneath the majestic shadow of the Great Mother Tree, we celebrate for them. We have quite a few performances lined up for us all, so let us get started! May Laeria watch over you all."

Lachlan blinked as his aunt turned and padded calmly down to the back of the dais. Laeria? Who was that?

His father was leaning closer to him again. "You're going to love this, Lockie," he said, a mirthful grin on his muzzle. "But it's going to weird you out a little. Just keep yourself under control, don't make a scene. Don't say anything to upset them. It's their culture and it's really quite harmless once you're used to it."

"What?" Lachlan frowned. "What's going to weird me out?"

"You'll see. You'll probably enjoy it all if you give it a chance."

A tall, male collie had taken his Aunt Ruth's place on the dais, and Lockie looked over again. The male was clad in tan-brown pants and a white linen shirt. As far as Lockie could tell, he had no shoes on.

"Okay, everybody!" the male declared. He pointed to the right. "Let's get the games started! This way is the tug-of-war. On the other side, we're having the wrestling! All the boys and girls interested in those, don't worry, you can do both. Flower-weaving and bracelet making is over in the Mother's tent. Painting classes aren't ready just yet, but-"

Lachlan spaced out. After a second, he turned to his father again. "What's gonna weird me out?" he repeated.

His mother laughed. "Lachlan, why don't you go watch the wrestling?" she suggested. "You'll see."

"Wrestling?" the kit enquired, looking from one parent to the next. "What kind of wrestling? The same stuff I did over spring break?"

"Yeah, very similar." His father laid a paw on his shoulder. "You wanted to do it when you went back to school, didn't you?"

"I guess... but I don't know anyone here." Lachlan sighed. "Dad, I don't know anyone here. I'm a stranger. I can't do any of this stuff today."

"Lockie, they'd be honored to have you join in," his father disagreed. "Today is a celebration of children and childhood; it doesn't matter where you're from. Even if you don't want to join in, go take a look at the wrestling. It'll explain everything."

Lachlan almost refused, not too interested in straying from his parents' sides in this unusual place. But he suddenly realized how silly he was being; there was not a single threatening fur on this island from what he had seen. Nobody would hurt him at a festival all about celebrating kits on a little island like this.

He wasn't going to be scared of being away from his mom and dad! He wasn't a little child.

Besides, he felt restless. Curious.

"Alright, I'll check it out." The arctic boy stood. "I'll go for a walk or something."

"Okay." His mom looked down at his foot-paws. "You should take your sneakers off, Lockie. It's a cultural thing. Even if you don't plan on joining in."

Lachlan looked around the grassy field. It was then that he realized at least half of the assembled crowd was young; there were maybe four-hundred furs at the festival and several hundred weren't yet adults.

It had been quite some time since Lockie had run around barefoot. They didn't let them do it at school. The grass looked wet and soft, and he really didn't feel like arguing.

If it was a cultural thing, then he probably shouldn't upset anyone.

"Whatever."

His father chuckled when he knelt to undo his laces. "You'd have to take off a little more if you did plan on joining in," he said mysteriously.

Lockie knew better than to ask for clarification. Leaning on his dad's chair, he stripped his socks off and put them inside his expensive, though slightly scuffed, sneakers. Bare-pawed at last, he spread his toes in the dewy grass. The blades tickled slightly, and he felt the damp sod beneath them, wet and cold.

Man, he missed that. It felt really cool. He made a mental note to go without shoes more back home.

"Righto." His dad playfully patted him on the backside, just below the tail. "Get lost, kid, we're going to drink wine and catch up with your aunt."

Lachlan smirked. "Oh, I get it now. Fine. I'm going." He started to pad away, heading in the general direction of the wrestling attraction. The dew felt awesome beneath his paws, making the grass kind of slippery.

A delicate mist hung low over the festival, and after a few moments, Lachlan stopped to look up at the massive tree shading them from the pale sun. It brought a shiver to his spine. The mist weaved through the thick branches like liquid, refracting the shafts of sunlight that managed to penetrate the oaken canopy. Occasionally, Lockie even saw glittering, rainbow-colored sparkles; light diffusing in the lingering fog. A boy he was, but even he had to admit it was beautiful.

But it wasn't just the morning mist. Something about the massive tree made him feel... weird. Something about the heavy, protective shadow of its heavy boughs.

After watching for only a moment or two, staring blankly at the expansive oak, Lachlan forced himself to press on, averting his eyes. Boys and girls of various species ran past him, excited to get to their favorite activities. Some of them stopped to smile at him; a couple even winked and looked him over, likely confused by his clothing, he decided.

It made him nervous, but they didn't bother him.

... Which was good, but at the same time, Lachlan hoped he'd make a friend or two today. After all, he was stuck on this island for several weeks at least. This was like his first day at karate; surrounded by other kits in weird clothes, and he had no clue what was going on or any friends to explain it in a way he'd get. It was clear to him his parents were keeping secrets, he wasn't dumb, but why? Were they just messing with him?

Lockie hated when they did that. Sure, it was fun for them, but it wasn't cool to have fun at his expense. To laugh at him when he was confused and worried.

Pushing it from his mind, the kit ambled through the crowd, listening to the whoops and laughter of the other boys and girls, as well as the cheery birdsong that had suddenly started to emanate from within the oak's dense branches.

It really was a nice morning. In a way, he was glad he wasn't at home sitting on his computer. The very air was cool and brisk.

When he made his way around the central dais and through the crowd, Lachlan found himself looking at a clearing - a circle where the crowd had spread out to leave an open space, like a ring, just beyond the shade of the gigantic tree. The sun-kissed grass sparkled and Lachlan felt the radiant warmth penetrate his fur.

But a distracting sight caught him off-guard, and the arctic bit back a gasp.

Two boys stood in the center of the ring, shaking paws. A raccoon and a red fox, roughly Lachlan's age and size, maybe a little older. A blue ribbon was tied around the raccoon's upper arm, and a red one was around the fox's.

That wasn't what caught Lockie's eye though. The raccoon was wearing nothing but white, unbranded underpants, and the fox wore even less. The furless, diminutive member between his lightly muscled legs was exposed to the cold air, as was the tight, downy-furred coin-purse behind it.

Lachlan's breath caught and he stared. Bewildered.

"Okay," the adult border collie from earlier said, striding over to the middle of the clearing. "Brendan, are you sure you don't want to take those off? You'll get grass stains all over them."

The raccoon shrugged. "They're old," he said in a lightly accented voice.

Looking around, Lachlan realized that other boys had lined up around the edges of the circle, either nude or wearing nothing but simple, plain briefs, almost all of them white. Lockie felt his muzzle go dry and his heart start to beat faster and faster. There were girls too, but they were clothed, seemingly observing rather than competing.

Another adult, a female wolf, was going around the assembled youths, giving out red and blue ribbons and helping the kits tie them on their upper arms. Lachlan just stared, his eyes drawn to the exposed privates of the dozens of assembled competitors.

Though everyone seemed comfortable with the nudity, Lachlan realized quickly he wasn't the only one letting his eyes wander. He flushed and drew away, feeling suddenly out of place. Or, rather, even more so than he did a minute ago.

"Are you competing, Lockie?" a lady's voice asked.

The kit jumped. By his side was the wolf lady, holding a blue ribbon in her paw. She was smiling at him encouragingly, but Lachlan felt mortified - she must've realized he was staring! "Uh, n-no, just watching," he muttered. Then he kicked himself mentally.

No kidding, he snapped silently.

"You won't have to do it naked, if you do decide to join in," the wolf assured him. "It's just tradition and many of the boys and girls prefer it."

Lockie felt his cheeks heat up. "Wh-why would you wrestle naked?" he asked softly. "I-I mean, I just... we don't do it that way back home."

The lady wolf just smiled. "I know, but it's a tradition here. It goes back to ancient times, where males would compete in sports naked to show off their body as well as prevent cheating. Many others prefer it because it means the clothes don't get in the way."

"But everyone can see your ju- your, uh, you know..." Lachlan floundered.

"Does that bother you?" The wolf chuckled lightly. "It shouldn't! We all have similar bodies, and we should be proud of them. We see nothing wrong with sharing them, if we all agree to respect one another."

Lockie was baffled. "S-so is everyone on this island, um, nudists?"

"We prefer 'naturist', actually. Though that isn't exactly accurate either." She just continued to smile at him tolerantly. "There's no rule about going naked. We just don't make a fuss about it. Let me know if you do change your mind about joining in, I'm sure you'd enjoy it." Then she winked at him. "And I'm sure we'd all love to see you just in that beautiful fur of yours."

Lockie blinked, while a few other kits around him tittered at him quietly. It was only then that he realized several pairs of eyes on him - both boys and girls, appraising him for whatever reason, cheeky grins on their muzzles. Probably enjoying the sight of the fish-out-of-water American kid squirming.

He flushed even hotter and tried to avoid returning any gazes.

The collie clapped his paws and stepped away from the first two combatants, and immediately the two boys darted into one another, grappling immediately. Lachlan blinked, surprised by their speed and ferocity.

A mere second or so into the match, the fox doubled over and dropped his bodyweight, sliding right into the raccoon's hips and cinching his legs. Lockie was no wrestling expert, but he knew an excellent takedown shot when he saw one.

The fox had the raccoon down in less than a second, but the match was nowhere near over yet. Lachlan continued to watch.

He definitely wasn't going to compete now. If this was any indication, the other boys would murder him. Heck, he wasn't even sure of the rules here.

Despite the early takedown, the raccoon seemed to be very good, and he struggled against the skilled fox, surviving for several minutes. The tide turned once, twice, three times. At last, however, the briefs-clad boy was hoisted into the air by his nude opponent and somewhat carefully deposited on his back.

The collie stopped the match then.

Grinning hugely, the vulpine boy helped his opponent upright. They said something to one another, laughing, then stood side by side, awaiting the referee's decision. As expected, the collie raised the dark, ruddily-furred arm of the fox boy, who grinned proudly and puffed out his chest. Completely unconcerned that his junk was exposed for all to see.

Immediately, Lachlan's heart froze. It had been beating faster and faster since the match began, and without even thinking he had been devouring every detail, his young mind subconsciously devouring everything it found interesting. But now the boy, a fellow vulpine, was practically posing, his trim, lithe body on display and his smooth...

Lockie didn't realize he was staring in openmouthed appreciation until the red, black and white furred boy spotted him and winked deliberately. The arctic almost died on the spot!

Oh crap! Oh, no, no, no! He'd been seen staring!

Calm down, he told himself, he probably thinks you're all 'whoa!' from his wrestling, not that!

But Lachlan, however, knew the truth. His stomach felt tight and fluttery, and he felt a light tingle that he was sure was the beginnings of a stiffy. He averted his eyes.

... Then he realized he wasn't the only one. One or two of the boys were clearly feeling as he was, and just about every kit assembled was watching with interest at least. Most of them, however, seemed unfazed by the spectacle.

"Oh man," Lockie whispered to himself, totally lost. "This place..."

Suddenly, he noticed something. On the other side of the ring, standing apart from the ribbon-wearing, mostly nude competitors was another boy. Another arctic, albeit one with a more grayish pelt and significantly skinnier than Lockie. Like most of the boys Lachlan had seen lately that weren't nude or in their underwear, the arctic was shirtless and wearing brown shorts - but Lachlan quickly realized something was different.

They were cargo shorts. Machine-made. Also, the boy was wearing glasses.

Their eyes met, and the skinny kit shot him a shy smile. After a second's bemusement, Lockie returned it.

"Okay!" declared the collie. "Well done, Crevan. Great match. Better luck next time, Brendan." The raccoon shrugged at the assembled crowd, the motion showing off his equally toned young form. Lockie found himself staring again.

The two competitors darted over to their clothes, left on opposite sides of the ring, and picked them up. Neither bothered to dress, they simply carried the shorts as they went to the back of their respective team's line.

Naturally, the confident red fox strode past where Lachlan stood, watching. Crevan simply chuckled and winked again as he passed, shooting the arctic an unsettlingly indulgent grin. Lockie didn't trust himself to respond.

Suddenly, there was someone at his side.

"They're the champions," that someone said, his accent English. "Under-twelve. They're really good."

Lachlan jumped and looked over. It was the other arctic. "O-oh."

"Yeah." The other boy was a little smaller than Lachlan, and seemed to be avoiding eye contact. "Um, s-so not everyone is that good. If you still wanted to compete."

Lockie shook his head slightly. "Nah." He swallowed. "I'd get my butt kicked. Are you from here?"

The kit shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I moved here a year ago. I know how weird this place can seem when you're new, so..."

"No kidding."

"It's awesome when you're used to it. Everyone's really friendly here, and there's no stupid rules." The kit suddenly grinned. "You even get used to the whole 'clothing optional' thing."

Lachlan nodded, glancing sheepishly at the next two competitors as they stepped into the center of the ring, literally bouncing with each step - naked as they were, Lockie wished they stop. It was distracting.

The next two boys were a little younger, and they seemed perfectly happy, despite preparing for an intense physical confrontation.

"This is just for fun," the other arctic told him. "In the competitions, Crevan and Brendan are about fifty-fifty. Do you wrestle at home?"

Lockie shook his head slightly as the collie clapped to begin the match. "Not really," he confessed. "I did out of school for a few weeks but I stopped. I'm gonna start again when school starts back home."

The boy nodded. "I can't do it," he said softly. "I'm not very strong and I've got a bad heart."

Lockie looked at him sharply, a pang of sympathy suddenly hitting him. "Oh... that sucks."

"Yeah. Besides, we don't really have wrestling in England." The kit sighed. "Um. My name's Cameron."

"Lachlan." They shook paws briefly. "My friends call me Lockie."

"That's a cool name." Cameron smiled, pushing his glasses back slightly. "My best friend in England was called Lachlan."

Lockie grinned. "Yeah, I kinda like it. Why did you move here?"

"Oh, we have family here."

"Oh, cool. What's school like here?"

Cameron blinked, then suddenly laughed. His voice was gentle, weak even, Lockie noticed. "We don't do it like that here," he said. "It's much better our way. We're homeschooled or have tutors. We only have, uh, ten hours of class a week."

Now that sounded awesome. "That's awesome!" Lachlan exclaimed. "How do you get into university though?"

"Simple. You finish your education then do the entry tests." Cameron shrugged. "Plenty of people from here go to university. Lots of them don't want to leave the island, though."

Lachlan nodded slightly. Then his attention was grabbed by the match, as one of the competitors, a naked, seven-year-old feline sprawled to perfectly counter a takedown attempt, then dragged his opponent to the ground with a clumsy, yet determined, arm drag.

It was incredible. These Welsh children, wearing nothing but their fur, were better than some of the grapplers Lockie had seen at home.

"It's a big thing here," Cameron explained, as though reading his thoughts. "We play a lot. Even the grownups."

"Are you usually naked?" Lockie smirked.

"Uh, yeah, most of the time."

"Gotta be careful if you're playing soccer, huh? You might kick the wrong ball."

Cameron giggled. "Yup. Gotta be careful in everything! One time, I saw, um, about six boys playing tug-of-war - which they're doing over there, you know - and they slipped in the mud and went forward, with their legs spread. They smacked their balls right into the leg of the one in front of them."

Lachlan winced, then suddenly couldn't help but laugh. "Ow, man!"

They continued to chat, Lachlan finding himself relaxing in the presence of the shy, quiet Cameron. As they talked, though, Lachlan continued to observe the surprisingly dynamic and interesting wrestling matches, and of course the underwear-at-most clad crowd.

Crevan had slipped on a simple necklace and bracelet, and Brendan had an anklet. They chatted easily with other boys in their lines, waiting for their chance at a rematch. The usual fooling around was occurring, and if Lachlan for some reason couldn't see, he wouldn't have known that most of the competitors were either in simple cotton briefs or utterly nude - it was absolutely as nothing to them.

In fact, as time went on, despite Cameron's conversation, for which he was grateful for, Lachlan did start to feel a little awkward. The only fully clothed, clearly shy boy in sight. But nothing was said, no disapproving looks slung his way - it was his choice, nude or clothed. Here, it didn't matter.

That was so darn weird! It didn't really bother him now, but it was definitely strange.

After a few more matches, Cameron cleared his throat. "Um, are you sure you don't want to join in?" he asked.

Lachlan shook his head. He was fairly sure he'd be slaughtered in half a minute at best, and he didn't want to be the only clothed competitor. "Nah."

"Do you wanna check out the tug-o-war?"

Lockie thought about it." Uh..." He glanced along the line of wrestling competitors. He couldn't help but let his gaze linger. "Do you mind if we wait?"

"Sure, I don't mind. What for?"

Lachlan coughed. "I wouldn't mind seeing those first two go again. They were really good."

But Cameron shot him a strange half-smile. "Sure you wouldn't."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Sure, we can wait. I like watching them myself."

It was several hours later that Lockie found himself padding through the pungent grass towards his parents, the gentle midday breeze ruffling his exposed chest fur. It hadn't been long since leaving the undoubtedly awesome wrestling games that he had decided to rid himself of his shirt, leaving it with his mom and dad. If nothing else, he wanted to fit in a little better. He wasn't planning on taking anything else off though.

It felt strangely liberating, if a little cold, to be wearing just boxers and shorts. Even oddly affirming; his shyness and shame had quickly been brushed aside by the islanders' acceptance of nudity. For some reason, despite being surrounded by a great many attractive and fit furs, Lockie felt confident in his appearance. Almost proud.

The day had started slowly, but it had quickly changed tracks.

At Cameron's urging, he had finally taken part in a few activities. He tried his paws at sprinting and the tug-o-war. Thanks to the quiet, shy boy, he had been roped into a game of tag with a few other kits. The islander kits were accepting, friendly and great fun. After almost an hour, Lachlan felt totally different.

Exactly as he had hoped, he had made friends.

"Welcome back, soldier!" his father said to him. "What's the situation?"

"Crevan and Brendan are having another match," the kit grumbled, feigning exasperation. "Cameron had to go see his mom. What's happening now?"

"You're just in time. The dancers are getting ready." His dad gestured at the empty chair by his side. "Come on, sit down. This is going to be great."

Lockie looked over his shoulder. "But-!"

It was his mother who spoke next. "Their parents will be calling them back now too, Lockie."

Sighing, Lachlan took the seat. "Is this the end of the festival?" he asked, struggling to keep the disappointment out of his voice. If the festival was over, the rest of the stay could be as boring as he feared!

"No, the festival is for several days." His mother smiled. "We're here for a little while, Lockie. Don't worry, every day is fun here. Trust me."

After several more minutes, the entire assembly went quiet as a familiar figure took the front of the dais once more. Lockie watched as his aunt's mere presence utterly silenced several hundred furs.

Ruth's demeanor was motherly and yet regal. She stood at the front of the dais and smiled at the crowd, spreading her paws slightly. When she spoke, her voice carried far over the grassy field.

"Everyone," she called, her blue eyes glinting, "I hope today has been much fun for everyone. Though the festival continues for several days, it is time to begin the most important event." She paused, then, and the silence of the crowd was heavy. Lachlan felt a chill that penetrated straight to his bones, as his aunt looked out from the shadow of the majestic great tree. "I ask for quiet now, as the young priests and priestesses prepare for the performance they have been training for, for over a year now. I know it will be worth the wait... or the trip."

With that, Ruth simply turned and strode away, as she had before. Lachlan looked around, bemused.

To his side, his father sighed. "Well, okay." He reached into the picnic hamper they had brought along and lifted out a small plastic bottle. "Here, Lockie. Got a drink for you."

Lachlan took the bottle and frowned at it. The liquid was dark purple. "Is it cordial?"

"Yep." His father smiled slightly. "It's apple and blackcurrant. You have to be thirsty after all that running around."

"Not so much." Regardless, Lachlan shrugged and spun off the cap. With a tentative sniff, he raised the juice to his muzzle and drank. It was sweet, cold and refreshing. He eyed the bottle curiously. "That's not bad."

"More locally made stuff. Oh, we have some of Aunt Ruth's root beer if you want any."

The kit froze for a second. "Uh... maybe later." He raised the cordial to his muzzle again, draining the entire bottle. "Ah!" Grinning, he handed it back to his father.

"I thought you said you weren't thirsty?" the adult joked, feigning astonishment. "Did you even drink that or did you inhale it?"

Lockie took his seat again. "So... uh, what now?"

"It's time for the dancing." His dad reclined in the chair, watching his son carefully. "I think you'll like this, Lockie."

"But why are they dancing?" The kit also sprawled back into his chair, spreading his legs uncouthly. "What's this festival about exactly?"

Casting an enquiring glance at his wife, the grownup asked, "Want me to field this one, or would you like to handle it?"

"Go ahead." The arctic vixen smiled, then returned her attention to the small book she had been reading from. Lockie hadn't even noticed it.

"Alright." With a cough, Lachlan's father began his explanation. "The people of this island believe that this time of year is sacred. According to legend, it's the time of year when crops are ready and the flowers bloom."

"All at the same time?" Lachlan asked skeptically.

"Well, apparently. We're here to find out, I suppose. They worship a god, goddess rather, of fertility, childbirth and children." The grownup smiled. "They worship kids and parents here, in a way."

Lachlan made a face. "Weird, but cool, I guess."

"Oh, it makes quite a lot of sense when you think about it. The dance is a celebration of, uh, the 'beauty of springtime' - not just the season, but the springtime of life." His dad's smile grew. "You'll see. It's hard to explain."

Lachlan sighed. "Okay." Usually, he enjoyed listening to his dad's explanations, but it was clear that he wasn't going to get any real answers today. It seemed his parents were enjoying his bafflement too much.

It was some time before anything happened on the wooden platform, the dais erected around the great tree. A time the crowd spent in hushed conversation at the noisiest.

As the sun crept behind the thick boughs, Lockie realized the morning mist had scarcely dissipated at all, even now. Between the branches and all through the canopy it lingered, still catching the sunlight in striking, beautiful shafts. They all fell upon the dais like fairy spotlights, dancing and shifting. A performance in itself.

Lachlan found himself staring, almost transfixed. The crowd grew ever quieter, but he didn't bother to look around. As time passed, a detached lassitude settled over him, and he followed the intricate movements of the light through the shifting leaves almost unthinkingly.

After a few moments, he felt a strong paw rest on his upper arm. Without looking, he realized his father had brought his chair closer, and now had an arm around his son's shoulders, holding him gently. "Just relax," the grownup murmured in his reassuring baritone. "It's okay."

Lockie nodded slightly, barely registering the words. "I know."

His vision had gone slightly strange all of a sudden. The kit stared at the tree's majestic canopy, seeing nothing else; he didn't really want to see anything else. Everything seemed slower, disconnected somehow. His thoughts banished.

Was it the tree? What was happening?

Somehow, however, he felt himself relaxing even more. His father's gentle, warm grip was so comfortable. Everything was fine, he was just spacing out.

The crowd quieted utterly then, and movement upon the dais caught Lachlan's sluggish eyes at last.

From behind the tree, on either side of the thick trunk, two boys and two girls made their way to the front of the stage. They stopped right at the very edge, only a few feet from where Lachlan sat.

The arctic boy took a deep, slow breath.

The four kits wore white clothes, similar to the garb of all the other boys and girls on the island that day. The girls' waists were girt by delicate, gossamer skirts, almost transparent, and only simple strips of cloth were wrapped around their chests, covering their flat breasts only; the boys wore nothing but white shorts, baring their lightly muscled, impeccably toned chests and stomachs. They were Lachlan's age, and as if in a dream, Lachlan found himself staring.

The two boys were Crevan and Brendan, the fox and raccoon. The girls were stunningly beautiful; one was a hare with long, yellow-blonde head-fur that hung daintily to her hips and luscious white fur; the other was a kitten with night-black fur, shot through with star-like streaks of silver, her head-fur shorter but no less amazing. All of them, even the boys, had perfect fur; smooth, sleek and shimmering... Lachlan thought it was like they were garbed in silk.

Wreathes of flowers had been settled around their necks, vaguely reminding Lachlan of those lei-things he remembered from his friends' pictures of their vacation to Hawaii.

His father's muzzle was near his ear again. "I bet you didn't know that those two were also dancers, huh..." he said softly. Lockie shook his head, trying to slow his breathing.

This wasn't fair... even spaced out like this, he couldn't help it. The dancers were beautiful. He couldn't take his eyes away, not from them, not from the liquid sunlight streaming down upon them.

Watching them made him feel funny, and when they started to dance, Lockie's heart froze for a full five seconds - or so it seemed to him, anyway. They moved with a fluid grace, deliberate, measured and smooth. Normally uninterested in dancing, Lachlan was entranced in seconds.

He had been forced to learn some dancing at school last year, but he had learned very little. What he was watching at the moment seemed oddly familiar... an intriguing mixture of contemporary dance, or whatever his teacher had called it, and what he was sure was called 'Irish Dancing' or something.

Whatever he was watching, he had to confess it was incredible.

The girls spun with a slow grace, one clockwise, the other counter-clockwise, each lifting a leg with such perfect control, until their bare paws touched at the toes, forming an arch. The two boys swept in, lifting the girls clear off the wooden stage, spinning them into the air. The girls gripped their partner's paws, and with exquisite, aching control and, yes, strength, they extended their legs to the sky above.

Lachlan was astounded. His muzzle had fallen open and he was panting slightly, but he couldn't help it. They were incredible, and, so close to the stage, he could see everything, every tensing muscle beneath their fur, every elegant movement...

His father squeezed his arm slightly. "It's alright," he muttered. "You're okay. Just let go, Lockie. Let go."

"B-but-" Lockie's voice was a whisper.

"Shh. It's alright."

The dance continued, every movement hypnotic to the confused arctic boy in the front row. He knew what he was feeling - awe from the incredible performance, yes, but something else too.

Vaguely, he was aware he was in public. That his own father, even, was holding him. But that slowly faded further and further into insignificance. That familiar tingle had started up again, once more covering every, every inch of him. Even his mind. Everything was fuzzy, and all he could see, as he fell further and further into that comforting weariness, all he could focus on, was the movement on the stage.

He didn't feel worried, but part of him knew he should say something. So he tried to.

It took several moments for him to frame the sentence in his mind, then force it out. "D-dad..." he breathed. "I feel-"

But his father cut him off, slowly stroking his arm. "Shh, Lockie. Forget about it. Don't talk. Just let it happen. You'll be fine. I promise."

For some reason, Lachlan immediately stopped talking. The words just dissipated in his mind, scattered like a covey of doves by his father's simple order to forget about it. Blown away like a tenuous mist.

The dance continued. For how long, Lockie had no idea. His sense of time had long since evaporated.

Even when the boys, with one synchronized, smooth movement, undid the knots on the fabric around the girls' chests, he couldn't bring himself to be surprised. Nor when the girls themselves spun apart from their partners, and also in one movement, undid their skirts.

Clad now in only thin, white panties, they waved the silken, translucent material about their heads as they moved, like ribbons in an Olympic gymnastics performance. Lachlan managed to swallow somehow.

Together, they move back towards the boys, who now stood together. They whirled around the two males, their discarded garments flowing in the air as they did so. Between one pass and the next, they had wrapped their skirts about the boys' waists...

And a second later, drew them down.

Simultaneously, Crevan and Brendan reached backwards over their heads, both performing a slow, perfectly executed back-flip, just as the girls pulled on their shorts. With another flourish of the transparent, light-catching skirts, the girls had removed their own underwear too.

All four of the dancers were now nude.

Lachlan's heart started to beat even faster, and he realized his muzzle was dry. The dance continued, sans clothing, although the leis remained around the dancers' necks, defying every cartwheel, backflip, twirl and leap as the choreography became more dynamic, faster and somehow even more impressive.

Shivering slightly, Lachlan leaned towards his father, suddenly aching for contact. The paw on his arm started to lightly stroke him, affectionately. "It's amazing, isn't it?" his dad asked. Lockie nodded without thinking. "It's almost time."

The dancers came to the front of the stage again, their gait purposeful and proud. To Lachlan's somewhat-dulled shock, they all smiled. At him. The sunny-featured lapin raised a paw and beckoned to him, and Lachlan felt his heart stop yet again. He wanted to go to her. To them.

"Go up to the stage, Lachlan," his father urged him gently, lightly pushing on his son's shoulder. "Go on."

A hundred reasons to say no leapt into Lockie's head, but... they also dissipated into nothing. Obediently, the boy stood, his legs numb and shaky, but still functioning. He made his way across the tickly, wet grass to the stage, his eyes fixed on the unearthly beautiful kits his own age.

As one, the fox and raccoon knelt. They helped him clamber onto the stage, and the strength of their grip did not go unnoticed by the befuddled Lachlan. They stood him up and faced him to the crowd. There was no other sound but the rustling of the wind in the great oak's leaves. Lachlan shivered slightly.

The lapin lightly touched his face, while the feline girl stepped up behind him, lightly caressing his hips. The boys just stood on either side of him, smiling warmly.

Now Lachlan felt he was just swimming through air. He looked from one face to the next in thoughtless bemusement. From his mother to his father; from the raccoon to the blonde rabbit. The smell of the flowers around the dancers' necks was overpowering now. So sweet and pungent.

What was happening? Was this real?

The two other boys stepped closer, lightly touching him also. Gentle, exploring paws on his flat stomach and chest. The sensation as they caressed him made him shiver.

"Lachlan," breathed the kitten-girl behind him. "Take your clothes off."

The arctic swallowed. "B-but-"

"It's alright, mate," Crevan whispered. "Take them off."

Before he could stop himself, Lachlan's paws had moved. He took the waist of his shorts and boxers in his fingers and slowly pushed them down. Embarrassment and shame simply did not come to him, not even when his small, immature member and softly-furred sack were exposed to the hundreds watching.

The garments slowly fell to his paws, and he stepped out of them. Once again, Lockie looked around in numb, complacent confusion. He could see his parents smiling encouragingly, proudly, up at him from the front row. Behind them, a sea of faces, hundreds of furs, all staring up at him intently.

The kit didn't even feel mortified when the dancers looked him up and down appraisingly. Or when he realized his penis was already stiff. It likely had been for quite some time.

It was only then that he realized he wasn't the only boy whose soldier was at attention. Crevan and Brendan's had followed suit. Unthinkingly, Lachlan looked them over.

One of the flower-chains slipped over his neck, and the feline girl moved in front of him. She smiled, somehow managing to make it both reassuring and yet predatory. Then she kissed him, full on the muzzle.

Unsure what to do for a second, Lachlan realized he was already kissing back. The girl pressed her body into his, including pressing her fleshy, soft groin against his own.

She pulled away. Another "lei" went around his neck, and this time, it was the lapin who kissed him. Held him so tightly, intimately, close.

It shouldn't have surprised him, but even in his current state, it did, when Brendan placed a third wreath around his neck. The raccoon boy actually giggled before pressing himself into Lachlan, their members rubbing together in a way that made him tremble.

Then he too kissed the arctic. Tenderly. Passionately.

After a few seconds, Brendan stepped aside and allowed the equally athletic fox boy to take his place. With a sultry grin, he moved in close just as his friend and rival had done.

I'm kissing a boy, Lachlan belatedly realized. After a few seconds, he realized he was loving it too.

This was so strange... Was he dreaming? It kind of felt like it. He felt all woozy and like he wasn't really...

When Crevan stepped away, the dancers all moved to Lachlan's sides. "Put your arms above your head, Lockie," directed the lapin, her voice quiet and mellifluous. "Spread your legs a little." Lockie obeyed without question, without even thinking, and the dancers, two behind him, two kneeling at his sides, ran their paws over his body in exaggerated motions. Rubbing him tenderly, petting him affectionately, even reverentially. Deliberately skirting his stiff, tingling little dick, that waggled slightly in the cool air with each passing paw.

Lachlan was breathing hard now, and he felt strange all over. Much like the night before, the potent effects of that incredible root-beer. But everything was so unfocused, he didn't even know where to look.

Why had he taken off his clothes when they asked? How long ago did they ask? He wasn't sure. Stranger still, he didn't care. It was scarcely a matter of idle curiosity for some reason...

Nothing mattered, except how nice he felt. Everything was fine.

Suddenly, Brendan stepped in front of him. He was smiling, also breathing a little faster. The raccoon gently touched him on the cheek. "Close your eyes, Lockie," he murmured. "You look pretty good, you know. You should dance too."

"I dunno..." mumbled the arctic, closing his eyes. He felt dizzy the moment he did.

Brendan just chortled. "When we count to five, you're going to fall asleep." Lockie nodded. "Fall asleep, and dream."

As one, the dancers began to count. Lachlan felt them take a hold of his limp, relaxed body, pressing against him intimately. He felt strong, slender young legs twine around his own, and arms holding him around his bare waist and chest.

But the moment they said "five", he felt nothing.

Nothing but the warm, smothering blanket of sleep.

It was like resting on a bed of cottony, sunbathed clouds.

Lachlan felt so oddly comfortable, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to wake up. But, as it usually did, once his brain had made the decision, there was just no arguing with it.

His eyes fluttered, struggling to open and focus. Shapes slowly swam into distinct forms, and eventually his sluggish brain gave them meaning.

At last, he could look around and understand what he saw.

He was in a warm, cozy room, like a comfortable room in a small cottage. On all four sides, there were creamy-painted walls, with only a single heavy wooden door in the center of one. The light flickered and danced, and Lachlan slowly realized the room was lit by candles. It was quite a large room, however, but all that was in it was a chair and the bed Lachlan realized he was in.

It was so soft, without any mattress springs. Lockie felt that he was sinking into it.

He stared bemusedly down at the white sheets, before he eventually decided to try and move.

There was a muffled clink... and he realized he couldn't.

"Wha-?" he moaned, looking to the left, where he heard the clink.

It took him several moments to realize what he was looking at. His arms had been pulled up and to the side, and he lay spread-eagled under the covers. A tight, thick leather cuff had been fastened around his wrist, and a durable chain attached to it.

With a weak gasp, he looked to the right. His right arm was also chained, pulled taut towards the headboard. A sinking feeling settled into his belly, and he tried to lift his knees. Another pair of dull clinks. He felt the leather on his ankles, snug and impregnable.

"What's going on?" he whimpered aloud, alarm forcing every last drop of drowsiness from him in a second. "Mom?! Dad?!"

The door opened, and Lachlan jumped, trying to force himself back, away from it. The chains foiled him utterly.

But no monster or sinister gangster walked in. It was a familiar form, clad in a wispy, elegant robe. It was white, though it was tinged a ruddy orange by the flickering candles. At first, Lockie thought it was his mother. But then he realized.

"A-auntie Ruth!" he gasped. "What's going on?"

The vixen smiled at him warmly. She stepped inside and shut the door before making her way to the bed. "How are you feeling, Lachlan?" she said in her matronly, rich voice. Lachlan flinched as a paw came to rest on his inner thigh. "You've been asleep for some time."

"A-aunt Ruth..." Lachlan's voice quaked. "What's going on? Why am I tied up like this?"

That invasive paw squeezed his leg once, then retreated. "I'm very sorry, Lachlan," his aunt said, clasping her dainty paws on her dress. "You're going to be like this for a little while. I'm sorry."

Lachlan stared. "You did this?!"

"Not precisely, Lockie." Ruth paused for a moment. A look of sadness swept over her face. "I'm sure you're very scared. I wish there was something I could do."

"M-my parents won't let you do this..."

"Lockie... your parents are the ones who chose you for this."

The kit froze, staring blankly. "No..."

"I'm afraid so, Lachlan. Your parents have given you to me, and you're going to be a very important part of an important celebration."

"No... wh-who are you?" Lachlan couldn't help it. A whimper forced its way out of his muzzle. "Why are you kidnapping me? What're you gonna do?"

The vixen sighed, her eyes showing a deep regret that only served to confuse her captive even more. "In English, I would be the High Priestess of Laeria." She bowed her head slightly, looking just above Lachlan's head. The kit blinked, then twisted around enough to see behind him. On the wall above his head, was a figurine of a beautiful vulpine lady in a glowing dress. "The mother of all. Her breath is the spirit of every child and every flower."

Lachlan squirmed, testing his bonds. They didn't slacken at all. "But-!"

"Your parents were born here, Lockie." Ruth once again stroked his leg, as if trying to calm him. "Now they have returned, and their beautiful son is going to be part of the Offering of Innocence. I am so proud of them, and we are all so proud of you. You turned out so sweet, Lachlan..."

"What are you gonna do to me...?" the kit's eyes started to water. "Please..."

"Aww, shh, shh!" The vixen leaned forward, concerned. "Don't cry. You shouldn't cry, Lachlan. This won't hurt. You're going to love this."

But Lachlan shook his head. "Let me go!"

"I'm sorry, I can't." Ruth smiled again. A wan, sorry little smile. "You wanted to know what was going to happen to you?"

"Yes!" Lockie started to sob. This was horrible!

The vixen chuckled lightly. "Well... I have some friends for you," she murmured, inching a little closer to the boy's head. "You've already met them. And do you know what they're going to do to you?"

"Whaaat?!"

Ruth suddenly grinned. "They are going to take that tiresome virginity off your paws, Lachlan," she whispered. "They're going to cleanse you of your ignorance and shame."

The kit blinked. "What?"

"Oh, my word!" the priestess laughed, clasping her paws again in delight. "You are just so cute, even when you're like this." She tittered like a much younger girl, and Lachlan suddenly realized something: his aunt was beautiful. "Lachlan..." she continued, "today, you're going to have sex."

Everything came to a crashing halt in his mind. The bound arctic boy stared incredulously. "Wh-what?!"

"That's three times in a row!" his aunt chortled. "Oh my! Oh, Lockie... you heard me, you dear, you." She smiled reassuringly. "I know you know what I mean. I know you know a little. You know how good it feels, don't you? To play with yourself. You did it the first night you were here, didn't you?" Lachlan gasped. "I'm sure you enjoyed it. You know what it means to be attracted to someone; you were attracted to everyone else on that stage yesterday, weren't you? And maybe quite a few others you saw that day." Ruth's smile became mischievous. "Including the boys. Or would that be... especially?"

The kit stiffened, his muzzle falling open. "N-no!" he gasped. "That's not true." He paused, understanding coming to him at last. "Y-you were drugging me! You gave me some kind of drug or medicine! I-I'm not-! I-!"

Ruth bowed her head slightly. "Yes, I'm very sorry, Lachlan. It was necessary for the ritual; it's against our religion, typically, to force or trick someone into taking anything made from the Soulflower. But, I'm going to make one thing perfectly clear, Lachlan, so you don't confuse yourself with it: the effects of the flower are powerful, but they only increase what you already feel." The vixen's expression was sober. "It wasn't because of it that you were felt the way you did. That you were, as you say, turned on by Crevan and the other boys. It only made those feelings stronger."

Lachlan stared, forgetting to close his muzzle still. How did she-?!

"You already knew that," the vixen stated, her voice gentle. "Didn't you?"

There was no way Lockie trusted himself to reply. Mortified, he stared down at the sheets.

"On this island, Lockie, we have no qualms about sexuality. Or nudity. They are not one and the same, but that really does not matter here. Not right now." Ruth stood, walking to the headboard at the top of the bed. Following her movement with his wary eyes, Lachlan realized that it was on the headboard where the candles were set, lighting the room so warmly. "It's quite normal for kits to play with each other like. All this fear and doubt and shame and self-loathing, this is not normal, Lockie. Affection, love, sensuality and pleasure are normal, and contrary to what you have been taught, they cannot hurt you. You'll understand."

Taking up a match, Ruth started to light the other candles. Their glow was darker, almost an orange-purple, and immediately Lachlan could smell it. He gasped.

"Yes, Lockie..." Ruth smiled at him. "These candles have been infused with the Soulflower - the symbol of our goddess and proof of her love. The longer you breathe this smoke, the more it will affect you. Different combinations of flowers on this island have slightly different effects. I think you'll enjoy this one." She lit the final candle. Placing the matches in a pouch-like pocket in her dress, she reached for the sheets at Lachlan's neck.

Slowly, she drew them down. Lachlan was somehow unsurprised to see his chest was bare, and as his aunt slowly walked down the bed, he knew without looking that the rest of him was too. He tensed all over. "W-wait, don't!"

But Ruth simply smiled. "Don't be afraid, Lockie." With a flourish, the matronly vixen pulled away the covers entirely. Exposing her helpless nephew's naked body, chained spread-eagled to the bed.

Lachlan whimpered, closing his eyes.

Once more, Ruth sat by his side. This time, however, that comforting paw rested on his lower belly, just above his furless member. Slowly but surely, the vixen drew that paw down, until it rested just atop the fleshy, sensitive part. "I know this makes you feel nervous," she said, sadly. "I'm sorry for introducing you to the wonder of sensuality like this. Your body is a beautiful wonder of nature, and I am loathe to make you afraid of it. But, Lockie, I know this feels good." Suddenly, she rolled the member in her paw, against her palm, rubbing with her cool, delicate fingers. "It feels good, and that's nothing to be ashamed of. Quite the opposite."

Lachlan tensed, pulling on the chains ineffectually. He gaped at his aunt, his toes curling involuntarily as that gentle paw coaxed and tugged on a part of him he had never felt touched by anyone else - no matter how much he had wished it.

Despite it all, despite his fear, Lockie felt his dick twitch. Once, twice... Slowly stiffening. He gawked stupidly.

What on Earth was going on?!

"You have a beautiful little penis, Lachlan," his aunt said, smiling. "It seems you're one of those boys who gets hard nice and quick, and it doesn't go away in a hurry. Good for you."

Lachlan's face positively burned!

Releasing him, Ruth stood. "I have to leave you now," she murmured regretfully. "I would love to do more, Lockie, but doing this to you when you might not want it makes my skin crawl. I truly don't enjoy this, nobody here does. But more importantly, this is a festival for the children; and it is with other children that your destiny lies tonight." She swept regally to the top of the bed. Laying a gentle paw on her nephew's head, she bent down to kiss his nose.

Stunned, Lachlan didn't even react.

"Take a little while to calm down, dear." The vixen padded to the door and stopped, smiling back at the helpless boy on the bed. "Just enjoy the candles. You won't be alone for long. Good night, Lachlan..."

"W-wait!" the kit gasped. "Y-you have to answer o-one question for me."

Ruth raised her eyebrows. "Hm?"

"A-are you gonna l-let me go? A-after this? Are you gonna kill me?"

There was a moment of quiet, cold stillness. Ruth sighed. "Good night, Lachlan." With that, and nary a glance back, the white-clad vixen slipped through the doorway, shutting it behind her. There was a clunk as an old, heavy lock was snapped into place.

And a dreadful chill froze Lachlan's heart...

To be continued...

• Copyright 2012, Kichigai Kitsune