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#8 of Timothy Whiskers Finds a Home
In the voice of Jerry Seder
I slipped into my domestic lifestyle so easily that I actually felt a little bad about it. All my life, I'd felt such intense pressure to be a bread winner, to get a "real" job, to support myself. But now... now I had all of the time and reason in the world just to keep the household going. Working at the sandwich shop had instilled all of the necessary instincts in me -- the super power to find things that needed to be cleaned. But now, without the constant pressure and distraction of random customers, I could take things at my own pace and get them done. It was liberating in a strange sort of way, but it hardly took up my entire day. It made me a little... restless.
So I decided to start honing my cooking skills. Thanksgiving was a real ego boost for me. I finally had a chance to apply my love for prep work to a real culinary challenge. I cooked the first turkey of my entire life from start to finish -- thawed it, cleaned it, seasoned it, stuffed it, baked it, basted it, carved it, and deboned it. I took a picture of it with the intention of framing it -- it came out a beautiful reddish-brown, better than any prop turkey you may have seen on TV. And of course, with the turkey came any number of smaller, but no less significant victories, most notably my homemade bread rolls. I pulled all of the recipes off of the internet -- emboldened by these successes, I began to probe deeper into the world of culinary possibility. Ratatouille. Beef Stroganoff. Chicken Kiev. California Roll Sushi. Compact as it was, Keith's kitchen seemed to be equipped for anything, and I found inspiration for a number of my experiments simply by finding a new gadget tucked away in his cupboard and looking into what it was used for.
Being a pet turned out to be a lot of fun too. I went on all fours around the apartment whenever I could, and it didn't take very long to start building my arms up to support my weight. I began to develop a fondness for taking naps after lunch, sprawled out on my back in a sunny spot on the living room. There's something deliciously soothing about feeling the slow progress of a sunbeam crawling across your body inch by inch while you're half-asleep, warming different bits until it finally slides away, and the chill of its absense slowly brings you back awake. At night, I would soothe Keith's nerves by fetching his slippers and sharing the couch with him. He'd scratch my head idly and chat with Tim, and we'd all half watch whatever was on TV. There was definately a marked difference in his demeanor compared to how he was for the first week of the shopping season last year. Of course, I sort of hoped that it had something to do with having us around.
December 1st was a Saturday, and the first day that Keith had taken off since Thanksgiving. It was a gorgeous day to sleep in -- there had been a snowstorm in the middle of the night that left two full feet of snow on the ground, and since it was the weekend, the plows weren't in as much of a hurry to get it cleared up. The sky, however, had turned sunny and cheerful. All in all, it was just the sort of day that makes you feel wonderful all over if you can spend the morning in bed, drapes wide open, and snuggled up naked under a huge pile of blankets. We stayed like that until nine o'clock, like a couple of snoozy, half-awake puppies. He was curled up completely under the covers, right up against my belly with his little nose buried in my chest, murring softly whenever I stroked him. By and by, Tim came in to check and see if we were still alive, and ended up in a tiny ball buried between our bellies.
But after a bit, Keith came up for a breath of fresh air and a stretchy yawn. "Well then," he stated with a drowsy smile, "I do believe that we've run out of excuses for delaying the decorations. I declare today a festival of Christmas preparation."
And so it was that we ventured down to the ominous storage basement, buried deep beneath the apartment building. Keith had a little bit of storage space for himself there, and he kept a modest supply of Christmas decorations in large plastic bins. It took two trips to bring everything up, and then there was all of the fun of popping them all open and seeing what was hiding inside. There were strings of lights, boxes of bulbs, any number of cute little ceramic hanging figures...
Whoa.
Inside one bin was this gorgeous little model of a skating pond sitting next to a small village and a ferris wheel. There were tiny little ice skating figures with magnets on their bases, and a long chord with an on/off dial seemed to hint at some sort of delightful effect that could be achieved by plugging it in.
"Let Timothy set that one up," Keith suggested, popping open another box. "You can take care of the tree."
I was a little reluctant to abandon the charming model village, but the challenge of assembling an artificial tree seemed almost as appealing. I guess I'm not really a purist when it comes to Christmas trees; between the wastefulness of cutting down an entire live tree just to decorate your home for a month and the annoyance of cleaning up dried pine needles all month, I was just as happy to have a fake tree and a pine scented air freshener. Which seemed to be Keith's strategy, as a matter of fact; no sooner had I thought it than I noticed him changing out the scented oil in the warmers. Soon, the apartment began to fill with a comfortable woodsy smell.
The tree was assembled with little difficulty; the wire pieces were mostly straight, and they fit together in a vaguely treeish sort of shape with very little reluctance. As I stepped back to admire my handiwork, I noticed Keith bringing in the litter box from the other room. He slid it under the tree stand, then turned to look at me.
"All right," he said patiently. "Go ahead and get it over with."
I smirked. I don't know if he really expected me to do it or not, but I figured I'd get a laugh out of Tim at the very least. Got down on all fours, lifted my leg in its general direction, and took a piss on the Christmas tree. Took a little care to make sure I hit the box, but not a lot.
Clearly, being a pet wolf was making me a little bolder.
With that out of my system, I set to work tangling the lights around the tree while Keith busied himself by decorating the fireplace.
"Hey guys!"
We both turned. When Tim saw that he had our attention, he flipped the switch. The tiny village popped to life. The little skaters slid across the surface of the mirror that simulated a frozen lake, pulled along by the magnets on their feet. The little homes lit up. The ferris wheel started turning. And a music box rendition of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" started playing. Then came "Little Drummer Boy". Then "Joy to the World".
"That's awesome," I grinned.
"Isn't it just?" Keith mused. "Set it up on the coffee table, then help me with these bulbs."
It wasn't a lot of decoration in the end, but it all went a long way toward making the place look and feel a little more homey. And then I realized that this was the first year in a long, long time that I was putting up decorations in my home. I hadn't even bothered to get any decorations in the years that I spent living alone simply because it seemed like too much expense and hassle, and besides, who did I have to impress, anyway? I hadn't even bothered last year after I met Keith. In fact...
"We didn't do this last year, did we?" I asked.
Keith shook his head. "Christmas decorations are a family activity," he explained. "And we weren't quite a family back then."
Hmmmm. Good answer.
"Speaking of family activity," he declared, clapping his paws together and rubbing them, "Who wants to go sledding?"
We had a quick brunch, then braved the roads to make the trip to the local park. It had two hills that were perfect for sledding on -- one short and steep, and the other long and sloping. There were dozens of kids crawling up and down the snowy rises, and the tracks of their sleds had already turned both hills into smooth, well packed surfaces. Tim mostly stayed in Keith's pocket. I was bundled up -- it was cold out there -- but I went mostly on all fours, and Keith kept me on a leash, mostly in accordance with the park's leash laws. I got a big kick out of acting the part -- didn't say a single word the entire time we were there. The kids were great. Some of them were curious, a lot of them were a little nervous, but when they saw I was friendly, they were usually eager to give me a little scratch behind the ears. Not that I could resist the occasional urge to give them a little bark or a growl and send them into a fit of giggly screams.
The actual sledding was pretty good, but it was clear that I was suffering from a severe lack of thrill rides in my life, judging by the clutching panic I felt on my first trip down. I was going way too fast, way way too fast. At the foot of the hill, I skidded out, tumbled out of control, and landed in a heap. As I spent a moment panting and aching, I started to wonder how in the hell I'd done this as a puppy. I turned and watched the kids fearlessly racing across the snow -- thrilled, perhaps, exhilerated, certainly, but no real fear in their hearts. What happened when I became an adult? Had I accidentally lost my capacity to enjoy stupid, insane things?
"There you are." I looked up. Keith and Tim were looking down at me, grinning their amusement. "Do we need to call for two ambulances, or are you still in one piece?"
I gave him an annoyed gruff and hauled myself back on my feet.
If I'd been alone, I probably would have given up after that first terrifying tumble. But with my pack there, I persevered. It really didn't take me very long to get the hang of it again; it was even kind of fun. We kept going up and down for what seemed like hours, until I was aching everywhere and the snow had soaked through my sweater and fur all the way to my skin. Freezing and exhausted and terribly, terribly satisfied, we all made our way home again just as the sun was starting to dip behind the hills.
A hot communal bath seemed like an excellent priority when we got home again, and then we fell in a heap on the couch, watching the model ice skaters and listening to jingly music box Christmas music.
"It's one of the cruelest tricks they've ever played on me," he lamented, leaning against my chest, half asleep. "Making me forget just how much I love this time of year."
I scratched behind his ears. "Well, you work too hard."
"Too hard?" he asked. "Or exactly enough?"
The question hung in the air for just a moment, and then he nodded. "Think about it. The point is, it's time to play Make Foxie Happy. Fetch my massager and start warming the stones, my body's killing me right now."
Oooooo. I liked this game. I was good at it too. I hopped off to the bedroom to get the stuff I needed to prepare. Keith was already sprawled out on the couch when I came back, tummy down, nose tipped to one side, eyes closed, tail waving limply.
I flicked the massager on and ran it across his back in large circles, from his shoulders all the way down to his butt. I gave him a good kneading, like bread dough, and it wasn't very long before he started melting. And then I stirred him like soup, taking special care to give his ass the softening it needed. Then the backs of his thighs, and then his calves.
When he was as limp as a wet noodle, I brought out the little dish of hot water that the massage stones were steeping in, pulled them out, and wrapped them in a dry towel. I sat on one end of the couch and Keith lay sprawled across the other, his cute little paws propped up on my lap. I started with the right one, holding it by the heel with one paw and giving the squishy black pads a good hard kneading with the thumb of the other. Took a little bit of satisfaction as his fur started fluffing up, and his eyes closed with a murry little sigh. Big dopey smile on his face.
Took the stones wrapped in the towel and ground them against the soles of his paw. Watched as he started shivering. Big, firm circles, that was the way to do it, down the inside, three times around the heel, up the outside, three times around the ball. When I'd gotten him up to a comfortable pant, I switched over to the left paw and gave it the same treatment. A few moments of barepawed squeezing, followed by a long, firm tracing around his pads with the rocks.
We'd never gotten dressed after the bath, of course, and I couldn't help sneaking a peek at his growing erection. Fox always did love his pawrubs. It occurred to me that it had been a while since I'd gotten a good hard fucking from him. His eyes had fluttered open while I was running the rocks along the inside of his paw. The way he looked down at me, I got the feeling that he was starting to think the same thing.
So I decided to throw a little gas on the fire.
Grabbed him by the ankle, stuffed his whole paw in my mouth. NOM. Sucked hard and pulled it out like a popsicle. The effects were immediate and very encouraging -- a soft little whine and a nervous struggling. Stuck it back in and chewed gently, little squishy toes between molars, scraping my front teeth down the whole length of his paw. He yipped and yapped for mercy as I munched it back in and gave it a good hard grind.
"All right, all right," he gasped at last, tugging hard. "I get the hint. Release."
I let him go, and he took advantage of my lowered defenses by leaping up and pouncing me into the couch. We devolved into a giggling, growling heap as he pushed himself on me and nipped at my ears, humping playfully into my stomach. It ended with two paws pinning my head firmly to the cushions as I tried to snap at his nose.
"So, you want to play rough, eh?" He turned his head. "Timothy! Be a dear and fetch me my amulet."
"Sure thing!"
Oh no. Now they were ganging up on me. I writhed to try and get out from underneath him, but a hundred and twenty pounds of fox can give you a pretty persuasive pin when it needs to. He leaned over to scoop up the pendant from Tim, and waved it around in a circle just above my nose. "Stay right here," he commanded. I sighed and gave in to his hypnotic command, waiting patiently for him to return from the bedroom.
When he came back, he was carrying a rather interesting device made of straps and cuffs. He padded around behind the couch with it. "All right, sit up straight," he commanded. "Paws up over the back of your head, and open your mouth."
I did as I was told, and I was rewarded with a ball gag stuffed in my mouth. The tethers that held it in place actually had the cuffs on the ends of them. Keith pulled them back, crossed my wrists for me, slipped the cuffs around them, and then pulled the whole device tight.
"There," he said. "How's that feel?"
My first reaction was to try and pull my arms back around to the front, but the straps were so tight that I wouldn't be able to bring them back around unless I removed my upper jaw.
"Lovely," he said with smug satisfaction, padding around to the front of me again. "Now then."
He pushed me over on my side, and I ended up in a kneeling position with my face buried in a couch cushion. And then I got a sharp kick in the butt.
"Tail up, fatass," he sang.
I whined a little and lifted my tail for him. He gave me a gooey rub on the anus -- lots 'n lots of lube. It was barely an effort to take him -- he slid in, warm and comfortable and familiar. He held my tail up with both paws, stood between my legs and giving me a nice soft pumping.
"That's my soft little doggy butt," he crooned affectionately.
I closed my eyes and sighed. I couldn't help thinking how different it was from Nash. Certainly less exciting in a tactile sense, but with so much more... feeling in it. As nice as it is to get a deep anal probing in any context, there's something exquisite about receiving the penis of the fox you love in particular. There's a lot of trust in making a connection like that, both expressed and implied, and I don't think the effect should be underestimated.
I whined and clenched to wind him up, and I was rewarded with an ever more vigorous humping. And just when I thought he was finished, he pulled out. For a long moment, nothing happened except a vague sort of rummaging sound. I turned my head to try and figure out what was going on, but I couldn't see anything around my own armpit.
But I heard a squeak. And I felt something soft and solid pop straight through the ring of my anus. It was moving around in there just sort of... tickling everything.
I had a sinking feeling that I knew what was going on.
"Well this should be interesting," Keith mused. He laid into me again, and I felt myself blushing up like I never had before. It was too much. Of course it was Tim sitting in my colon, putting a delicious pressure on my prostate as Keith finished up. All at once, I felt myself clenching up, eyes screwed shut, squeezing back tears. I gave one helpless yelp...
And came down the front of Keith's couch.
I was gasping for breath before Keith was even finished, and he did me the courteousy of releasing my bindings so I wouldn't choke on the ball gag. I was only just recovering when I felt Tim's little nose peeking out my backside, gasping and spluttering. I hissed a bit as Keith spread me with his paws and a little mouse crawled straight out of my butt.
"Status check," Keith announced. "Is everybody all right?"
"Wow," Tim said, sounding a little dizzy. "Now that was a rush."
"You know," I confessed, "I never saw that coming."
Keith settled in next to me and rubbed my back. "Then our first three-way was a success."
Mmmmmmm. It hadn't escaped my attention that the two of them together had put me over the edge in a way that neither of them alone had been able to. Maybe there was something to this three-way relationship thing that I hadn't considered before.
"Hmmmm," Keith mused. "And it's only six thirty. The night is still young. What does everyone feel like for dinner?"
"I dunno," Tim said.
"You guys never got around to using that gift card I gave you, did you?" Keith mused. "We could go out for pizza tonight."
I blinked. Of course, I loved Papa Richard's, but... "Would they actually let us in?" I asked. "I mean... Tim and I are pets, legally speaking."
Keith smirked and held up his hypnosis medallion. "Oh, I'm sure we could come to... an understanding."
It didn't come to that in the end, thank goodness. We asked when we arrived, and the maitre d' consulted with the manager. As long as we weren't disruptive, he said, we were welcome.
We got the same table we'd had when I first met Tim, but luckily, nobody got squashed this time. I got a fancy barbeque chicken pizza, Keith got the spinach fresca, and Tim shared off of our plates. After dinner, we took some time to explore the video game arcade they had in the back. Keith got us a generous collection of tokens, and it was quite an undertaking to get through them all. Tim gravitated to some of the games that he recognized from Keith's Atari collection, but he was in for quite a shock when he saw how different they all were. Keith mostly stuck to the Karaoke Revolution machine in the corner. I didn't keep very close track of his win loss record, but he seemed to have pretty even luck against the competition. And me, I just wandered, sticking a coin into anything that looked interesting.
We got home relatively early, but we were all ready for bed. It had been a nice, full day, and we were all very, very tired. That day seemed to mark the moment that Keith started to turn around and come back to life again. It was nice to have him back.
December breezed past in a flurry of hustle and bustle and animated television specials. Tim became ever more involved in his little world of game programming, and I did my best to seem enthusiastic as he made breakthroughs that resulted in ever more dots being drawn on the screen simultaneously. Keith managed to keep his candy shop going, not to mention his own sanity. And me, well, I didn't burn the apartment down yet. Life was settling down nicely, I thought.
I was somewhat surprised to wake up on Christmas morning to find that there was one large box wrapped in red and green paper sat next to the tree, and several smaller ones under it. I padded up to them and gave them a good sniff.
"I'm guessing they're from Keith." I glanced over my shoulder. Tim was standing next to the leg of the couch, looking up at me. "I didn't hear him come through here last night though."
I frowned. "And I didn't notice him leaving the bed."
"Is he up yet?"
"No, I figured I'd let him sleep."
As curious as I was about the wrapped boxes, I figured it would be best to hold off until we were all together. So instead, I spent the morning brewing some coffee and whipping up some fresh cinnamon rolls. I can only assume that my ploy worked, because a rather sleepy looking fox came stumbling out of the bedroom ten minutes after the smell started to circulate.
"Well, Merry Christmas!" he announced. "No one's opened their presents yet. How very restrained of you."
"We were waiting for you," Tim called out from in front of the TV.
"Oh nonsense," Keith said. "You didn't have to wait for me. Today's about having fun and enjoying ourselves, go ahead and dig in. Wait, get me one of those cinnamon rolls first. Hey! Hey, no!"
"What?" Tim said, looking up from the biggest box, blinking. "It says this one's for the whole family."
"You don't open the biggest box first," Keith admonished. "Goodness, no wonder you needed to wait for me. Here, give me a second and I'll get us organized here."
So we had a quick breakfast -- coffee and cinnamon rolls and a box of chocolates that Keith had brought home from work. Gorgeous things, interesting centers -- I got a peanut butter, a nougat, and a raspberry cream. And once everyone had the icing washed out of their fur, we huddled around in the living room and Keith passed out the presents.
"I went for the practical toys this year," Keith explained. "Hope some of it helps."
I opened mine first. It was a book -- a beautiful ringbound volume with a cozy checkered cover -- titled "Anyone Can Cook". I looked up to Keith quizzically.
"I know the internet's been very good to you," Keith explained, "But it's always nice to have a hard copy on hand in case of total global meltdown."
I snickered and leafed through the pages. It was certainly an enticing collection of recipes... Salads, entrees, soups, stews, roasts, pastas, breads, desserts... "Wow. This is really nice."
Keith nodded. "Well, you're showing such an interest. I thought I'd help it along a bit. Speaking of which, Timothy?"
Tim blinked up at us and dug his claws into the rectangular box he'd been given. He'd barely made a slit in it before his ears stood up and his tail shot straight out.
"No way... NO WAY!"
The paper flew in an unwrapping frenzy, and he lay panting on top of the box, arms reached out like he wanted to hug it. "No... WAY!"
I turned my head, trying to make out what was written on the box. "What is it?"
"It's the Krokodile Kartridge," Keith grinned.
"Where did you get this?" Whatever it was, Tim was literally vibrating over it.
"eBay," Keith shrugged. "They aren't made anymore."
"Some sort of game?" I guessed.
"BETTER!" Tim cried out, leaping to his feet again. "It's a go-between from the computer to the Atari! You load your game on it, and you can play it on the real system!"
"If you're going to be a serious game developer, you're going to need that," Keith explained. "Emulators are fine, but you're never going to get anything published if you can't test it on a real machine."
Tim went very quiet very suddenly, a bashful smile on his face. "What, you think I'm going to be a serious game developer?"
Keith shrugged. "You have the passion for it, you're developing the know-how, and now you've got the hardware. Why not? And now, ladies and gentlemen, we can open the big box." He stepped over to it and started to peel away the tape himself. "I discovered a new sex toy that I rather liked. I think this is something the whole family will be able to enjoy."
I raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Tim, wondering what kind of sex toy needed a box almost as long as the couch. And then the paper came away, revealing the picture on the front.
"A treadmill!" I said.
"Yep," Keith beamed, padding back to sit next to me on the couch. "I checked with the fitness club already; they have zero tolerance for pets. I thought you might miss it, so I brought a little bit of the experience home for us." He gave my belly a pat. "Much as I love my big soft wolf, I don't want to see you getting too sedentary in the off season. You can use it two-legged or four-legged, your choice. All we have to do is get it set up."
Huh! Truth told, I was pretty excited about the thought of it. I did love the treadmills at the club, after all. "So how does that qualify as a sex toy?" I asked.
Keith grinned. "You walk on it, Timothy and I get the front row seat at your backside."
Tim laughed. I felt myself blushing up.
"Excuse me, guys," Tim said at last, pulling the electronic guts out of the cardboard box he'd received, "I've got to see how well this works." And then he scurried off to find Keith's laptop.
I took another glance through my book, then looked up to Keith. "So how about you?"
He flicked an ear. "How about me what?"
I nudged him. "How about you? What did you want this year?"
"Ahhh." He leaned against me and put his arms as far around my belly as he could. "Well, it's my own fault, I unwrapped my present early this year. My wolfie and my mousie."
I snickered and shook my head. He was so corny sometimes. But I gave him a pat on the back anyway.
"You know, I feel like these past three months have been the best time of my life," he murmured. "I'm just sorry things had to turn out the way they did for you."
"Eh," I grinned. "I'm just glad that I figured out that I just wasn't the civilized type. And that there was something to do about it."
"I've always wanted a family, Jerry," Keith said softly. "It's the thing I've always been missing."
"You're sure there's nothing else you want?" I asked. "Nothing else I can do for you?"
Keith turned to look up to me. He had a strange sort of far away smile on his face. "There'll be time for that," he assured me.
We sat and watched the fireplace for a long time.
"So you really think this'll last?" I asked. "The three of us will remain passionate lovers forever and always?"
I felt tiny claws digging into my butt. "I don't hold any illusions. I'm sure, with time, we'll start to get tired of elaborate sexual roleplaying. And that may lead to some tension, depending on who wants what out of our relationship. But there's no question in my mind that we're going to spend our lives together. I love you too much to let something like a lack of passion get between us."
I took a deep breath and sighed. It was actually one of my biggest fears since I'd agreed to start this with him. But it was a good answer. And I felt like most of it was true.
As I glanced over to look at the treadmill one more time, I noticed another box sitting under the tree. "Hey," I pointed. "Who's that one for?"
"I don't know."
I blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Keith grinned. "You never told me his name."
It was a beautiful night to go moon-gazing. The moon was full, the sky was clear, and the air was frigid. There was a soft, thick snow on the ground. Good tracking weather. Keith had parked his car right at the edge of the forest, the same place I'd been three months ago. We laid across the hood of his car, looking up into the sky and watching the stars come out, one by one.
"So when is this going to start, anyway?" Tim chattered from inside Keith's pocket.
I gave him a poke. "Shhh."
It was several minutes later when I heard the sound drifting through the air, low and soft. Wooooooooo. Another voice chimed in. And then another.
I tipped my head back. "Woooooooooooooooo..."
Keith joined in a moment later. "Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap!"
Tim peeked his nose out, screaming in an effort to keep from being drowned out. "SQUEEEEEAK! SQUEEEEEEAK!"
We kept it up for half an hour. It was a nice feeling, really. To just go out howling with my pack. But by and by, the cold slowly started to overtake us.
"He's not coming," I said at last, softly.
Keith gave me a pat on the shoulder. "It doesn't mean he's gone."
I nodded. Somehow, I knew from the beginning that I wouldn't find him here. Maybe I'd never see him again. The truth was, I didn't really need to. Not for myself anyway. I guess I'd just wanted to thank him.
"Go on," Keith urged. "If it was meant to be, he'll find it. I'm going to start the car and warm Timothy up. Take as long as you need to."
I popped the trunk open and took the last present from under our tree. According to Keith, it contained some lovely winter clothing -- coat, snowpants, hat, boots, gloves, scarf. Probably not very useful for a wolf while he's hunting, but certainly a comfort if he had to hunker down and weather a snowstorm. I walked out into the woods until I lost sight of the car and set the box down. And then I took a second to piss on it so he'd know who it was from.
I followed my tracks back to the car, and we pulled away.