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~Stupid disclaimer thingy~ Ya adult content blah blah blah. If you read this and your not old enough. try not to get caught. if you aren't held back by any of those silly laws then your good too. Also... M/M Here, so... Not your bag? Then exit now. Otherwise Enjoy!

***

~(Psst. You there. Yes you...

I have a story for you, if you have time.

All I ask is that you sit back and picture your vision start to blur as infamous relaxing

music plays.

Yep. We're goin' on a flashback.

It all started the way any mistake starts.

With sex.)~

Adrian "Magic-Paw" Wolfchester was an average Aussie Shepard, stout, tall, and

strong. He worked as a locksmith down on Piccadilly Street where everyone came with

their lock and key problems. He always sighed, gave a smile, and fixed them in record

time, thus earning him his nickname of "Magic-Paws".

Life was always fruitful down at the locksmith's place, what with the fire he kept

stoked 24/7, the full-fridge he always stocked, and the black and white picture TV he

had up in his loft on the second floor. To him, life was a sweet as it got, until that

faithful day, March 10th, 1995, when Margaret Dnindis, an Irish Setter, stepped paw into

his shop.

"I simply must get a new lock for my front door," She spoke with words of silk. "You

see, my husband has just left me and he's taken his key with him..."

"Fear not, ma'am," Adrian replied with casual manor. "Old "Magic-Paws", at your

immediate service." He then took a bow, offered the female some of his sandwich he

had just made for himself, which she declined with a giggle, and then told her to return

tomorrow.

Throughout the whole night, the Shepard's work was stifled by the thought of the most

beautiful woman he ever did see. He wanted to impress her, but how?

The following morning, she returned, just as she said she would, to notice the

locksmith out cold on his desk. He went to tap him on the shoulder, but stopped

midway, noticing the newly fabricated lock in one of his paws, and a couple red roses in

the other.

Delighted, she woke him up, kissed him on the cheek, and set a plan for a date,

choosing to go out for an old fashioned dinner and a movie.

Three years later, after going on too many dates to count, Adrian popped the

question, handing the love of his life a ring that took him three years to save up for. She

then replied yes, embraced him in her arms and got married to him four months later,

happily together forever.

~(Here's where the fairytale ends.)~

On their honeymoon, they figured that, because they were married now, they didn't

have to bother with protection anymore. That basically, they were together forever,

which earned them some godly insurance that covered them for never having to worry

about accidentally conceiving a pup again.

After a week of paradise that seemed almost too good to be true, they made it home

again, back to the locksmith's shop on Piccadilly Street.

Margaret had moved in by now and went about cleaning, dusting, and rearranging

everything in the shop, which Adrian found nice at the beginning, but as time went by he

got increasingly embittered about it.

As time passed on, things started to change. Margaret was becoming increasingly

bitchy, and morning sickness ensued everyday. All the while, Adrian somehow kept up

his shop, which flowed in a little more then a trickle to get them by.

Then the agonizing day of September 19th, 1998 floated along, normal as usual.

Arian was servicing a bike lock from one of his regular customers, when his wife came

rushing in with her pants down to her ankles. In her paw she held a stick with that

unholy plus symbol etched into the screen, which caused the Shepard to close up shop

early that day.

"How could this happen!?" He shouted in the loft living room. A brand new color TV

was playing another episode of "Friends" as Margaret lay down on the couch, feeling her

stomach.

"It must have been on our honeymoon," She sighed, sweat slipping down from her

headfur. "What are going to do?!"

"What can we do?" Adrian shouted, pacing back and forth now. "We have to have it..."

~(Nine months later, they end up with me, a bouncing baby mutt, by the name of Wyler

Wolfchester-Dnindis. I can't really tell you much about my childhood, seeing as I don't

remember most of it, but I guess I could start with...)~

***

It was a clear autumn night of August 13th, 2006. A young pup, no older then six, lay

under his sheets, staring intently at his babysitter, James, who was in the heat of telling

his favorite story.

James, a stork, made a living as a children's storybook writer and was a very good

friend of the family's. Partly because of his helpful kindness, and partly due to many

visits on account of lock troubles.

"...and that's how the beggar boy made his way to become king." James concluded,

tucking the sheets under the child. He tickled him on the way, making the pup squirm

and giggle. "The End."

"I like your stories, James." The pup yawned.

"They teach you the most important lesson, child" James said, sitting on a small stool

beside the pup's bed. He ruffled the boy's headfur. "Anyone can change the stars..."

"Stars...?" And before the pup could finish, he was out cold, cuddling his favorite teddy

bear.

James quietly left the bedside, tiptoed out of the room with his long spindly legs, and

shut the door behind him, only to catch the boy's parents slowly creeping through the

front door. The stork held a finger-feather up to his beak and quietly made his way over

to the couple.

"He's out for the night," The stork smiled, waving goodbye to them as he grabbed this

coat by the door.

"Thanks again," The two parents said, slipping the bird a ten dollar bill. He gladly took

it and closed the door behind him, walking down the steps that led him into the shop.

Opening the front door, James looked back into the fire that was kept up in the corner.

He smiled and left, as the crisp autumn air greeted him.

The couple years that followed worked in this way. Wyler's parents would go out on

Wednesday nights, leaving the kid in James' care, which was like a vacation in itself.

"What made you wanna become a writer?" A nine year old Wyler asked on one of

these Wednesday nights. He sat at the dinner table that stood beside the kitchen as he

ate his microwaved Chef Boyardee.

"Well..." The stork said in thought as he sat next to him. "I guess it's because I always

loved words. In English class I always wrote little stories that came to my head, and one

day it just hit me."

"What did?"

"That I want to entertain pups like you with my books."

The stork then frowned. "Wyler, what are you doing?"

The pup then looked at James with an awkward giggle. Beside his bowl lay a mountain

of meatballs slopped in tomato sauce.

"I like to save the meatballs for last..." He smiled.

"Well you're making a mess!" The stork chuckled as the grabbed the mass of meat and

slopped it back in his bowl. "Now give me your paws so I can clean them."

"Okay," Wyler said as he stuck out his red stained paws, which James attacked with a

rag. The pup then looked at the meat in his bowl, licked his chops and threw his face in,

sending more meat off the rim then into his muzzle.

"Ugh..." James sighed as he wiped Wyler's face, once again cleaning the table. "You're

an interesting kid, you know that?"

"I am?"

"Yeah? How many other kids do you know that would do that?"

~(That was the last night I talked with James, though. I remember it like it was clear as

day. It was one of those rare nights that he decided to drive, which makes him an idiot,

seeing as one of the worst rainstorms I've ever seen welled up during that day.

My parents told me he moved to Paris and became a famous writer, but I knew darn

well he lost control and ended up in a ditch just five blocks away from our loft on

Piccadilly.

Weird enough, I'm pretty sure I felt him die somewhere near my heart that night. It

wasn't one of those things you notice in the heat of the moment, but now that I look

back on it, it was as clear as a gunshot.

I'll spare you all the details of it all, but rest assured... It was probably the worst

times of my life, which, oddly enough, brings us to the starting point of my story, which

fast forwards almost eight years later.

Don't worry, you didn't miss much, except my father, Adrian, picked up a slight

drinking habit that my mother could barely handle, which set the whole household on

even more of an edge. Other then that you're pretty much up to speed. Except the part I

forgot to mention about yours truly.

You would think life would be hard enough in the boy's locker room, what with me

having to hide my mutt fur, but one unlucky day came when I caught a glimpse at the

other boys, which sent wild, unclear thoughts through my head.

A couple self-hating months later, I finally accepted myself as whom I was. A gay

mutt. Societies worst nightmare.

Now, having said that... I think a Once Upon a Time is in order.)~

Once Upon a Time...

~(No... That doesn't really fit does it? Crap... and I already used "It all started..." How

about this for a starting...)~

***

Sunday night, September 1st, 2017, there came a knock at the front shop door. Adrian

and Margaret were busy reading completely different materials beside the fire when they

perked their ears at the noise.

In unison they looked at each other before grunting as they helped each other up, and

then headed for the front door, where another knock rang out.

They opened to see their seventeen year old son with his eyes glued to the doormat.

Behind him stood a bulldog dressed in a police officer with his hat already in his paw.

"Evening Mr. and Mrs. W.D." He said as the rain tipped on his balding, canine head.

"How are we this evening?"

"Wyler!?" His mother said as she grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Is everything alright officer?" Adrian said as he glared at his son, who didn't dare

return it.

"Well..." He said as he looked around. "Umm... No... I'm afraid. Wyler, here has been

causing trouble out in the retail district..."

"What has he been doing?" His mother asked, now putting her own glare on him.

"He's been riding his gas... foot thing again..." The officer said as he pointed back into

his cruiser.

~(It's the year 2017. Gas had been considered "Too dangerous to use" by this time, and

was made extremely illegal by the Government and the World Care Organization.

That didn't mean you couldn't get it, though. It came cheaper then the ionic gel crap

that everyone went to. I thought it was quite interesting how it could explode so readily,

and by the time my father taught me basic mechanics, I fiddled around and invented my

own way of getting around.

That "gas foot thing" was a mountain-board hooked up with a small engine. Nothing

special, but it was still mine...)~

"We've impounded his vehicle," The officer said, taking out his notepad. "And as you

know this comes as a direct violation to his probation. He SOULD be on his way to juvie

right about now..."

"Say no more, Officer," Adrian replied, ripping his son away. "We'll take care of him..."

"Be sure that you do," The bulldog tipped his hat again and turned around, saluting a

swift goodbye as he did so.

"Wyler Pullen Wolfchester-Dnindis..." His mother sighed after she closed the door. He

knew she was pissed, seeing as she said his full name. That always means trouble,

especially when you have a name as retarded as "Wyler Pullen Wolfchester-Dnindis"...

"What are we going to do with you, boy," His father said as he rubbed his temples.

"Honestly, this is the third time in two months you've been escorted home because of

that death contraption you ride around on. We even hid it from you?!"

"Yeah," Wyler scoffed as he headed for the stairs. "Who'd of thought I would find it in

the shed... And besides, it's just gas... It's not as harmful as you think, you know..."

"Be that as it may..." Were the last couple words he heard before he shut the door to

the loft behind him. The atmosphere changed immediately from gloomy shop to cozy loft

as fire's shadow from the fireplace on the second floor danced on the walls. It was

stoked higher then usual as the teenage canine dragged his foot-paws past it with his

gaze set to the floor.

Opening the side window, he pushed his torso out and grabbed on the pipeline that

clung to the side of the building. He then grabbed shingles with his claws, pulling

himself up to the slanted roof, where the view of the rest of London was spectacular.

This was his happy place were he would lay and stare at the stars, but on rainy nights

like tonight he would have to settle for the feeling of droplets soaking into his fur as a

water painting of lights from the city acted like night sky on earth.

He gave a sigh as he slopped down, his pants and shirt already dripping from the trek

up. Gazing towards the sky, he could see lightning spark through the black, rolling

clouds, followed by the rumble of thunder that seemed to shake every droplet that

freefell onto him.

He gave a sigh as he started to shiver from the sudden chill of the rain, thoughts

combing through his mind as he sat up, putting his chin to his arms as they rested on

his knees.

"What's a mutt to do..." He thought as he stared into the city light, which sprinkled

around darkness like hundreds of tiny candles, ready to be blown out at any second.

"When he's so bored of an average life..."

The child side of him waited for an answer. An answer from a guardian angel or an

imaginary friend. But, as usual, there was nothing but the pitter-patter of rain, accented

by rolling thunder.

He gave another sigh before sliding down slowly, placing his foot-paws on the pipe,

one at a time. He always checked to make sure it was still stable, remembering the first

time he discovered this fortress of solitude. He tried getting down, putting too much

pressure on the pipe, which caused it to break. Needless to say he was stuck up there

until his parents opened the window, only to hear him crying his heart out.

He made his way back into the window, only to find his parents both staring at him,

his mother looking terrified and his father looking murderous.

"Gad damnit Wyler," His father growled as he crossed his huge forearms. "Do we have

to start beating you again? Will that get the point across for you to listen to us?"

Wyler just scoffed as he walked, soaking wet, to his bedroom, where he slammed his

door and locked it just in time. One second later and his father would have grabbed him

by the collar, pulling him back out into the den, where the use of a belt might have been

implemented.

The boy just laughed as his father knocked on his door shouting "Wyler open up this

DAMNED door RIGHT NOW!"

"I can sound scary by SHOUTING TOO!" Wyler replied as he stood, inches away from

the door.

"NO SON OF MINE WILL ACT LIKE THIS!" He heard his father shout, backing down.

Then nothing but silence, which cued the ending of yet another squabble in the

Wolfchester-Dnindis household.

"No son of yours, huh...?" Wyler said, stripping down his waterlogged clothes. They

came off with a bit of a wrestle, removing with a satisfying slurp, and after his clothes

were gone he was left naked in the darkness.

He flipped his light switch and looked into the mirror that mounted into his door.

His fur was quite unique, and was something only he seemed to appreciate, and that

was only when he was alone. His face had white fur on his muzzle that accented his

orange cheeks, which melded into his black headfur. Down his neck and chest were the

same color white, but further down it faded into a reddish brown, which covered his

belly, crotch, and legs. On his back were splotches of black and brown that seemed

painted into his silver gray fur that cascaded its way from his neck to the very tip of his

tail.

He admired it within himself when he stood in the mirror, but hated the fact that when

he walked into public he knew all eyes were on him. After all, mutts were considered the

lowest of the low, seeing as crossbreeding was almost a social abomination by this

time.

Because of this, he found himself thin on friendship, which was fine, seeing as it left

him with more time in the world to write, just like his childhood Hero, James.

"Hey," He heard the delicate voice of his mother whisper from the other side of his

door. "Can we talk to you, Wyler...? We're worried about you, that's all..."

The canine just stood in room, staring at his naked reflection. He figured he could

either go two ways. Go out there, fall into the trap, and be punished, or he could go to

his bed, take his CD player and listen to music.

"The second sounds nicer," He thought with a grin as he took in a breath to shout back

his answer. "We can talk later! Night!"

He then jumped backwards, grabbing his CD played from his dresser in midair, and

landed back first on his bed. Pressing "play", he stuffed the ear buds into his ears, giving

a large sigh as he closed his eyes.

***

The next morning, Wyler woke just as his old alarm clock, dented from all the

mornings he smashed on the snooze button, changed from 7:59 to 8:00 A.M.

He debated on rolling over and letting this just be another Monday morning where he

dragged his tail into school at lunch time. He always missed his first and second period

in this way, seeing as math and science bored him to no end. He might as well get his

sleep from his bed, rather then feeling embarrassed about drooling all over his desk.

That's when he heard the sound of a broken bottle smash on the ground, followed by a

gasp from his mother. He floated out of bed, silent as a ghost, until he had his ear

firmly planted against his door.

"Adrian!" He heard his mother's voice, which sounded more worried then he had ever

heard. Then the collapse of something, which thudded slightly on the tiled floor, muffled

by the sound of what he guessed as his mother catching him. "Here," He heard her say.

"I'll get you something to eat, just lay on the couch..."

Wyler thought about stepping out with a towel, heading groggily and unaware to the

shower. "She would buy that wouldn't she?" He thought, slipping on some of his boxers

that hung off his dresser.

"Wyler!" He heard his mother calling from the kitchen, which made him jump

backwards. "Wyler!? Can you hear me?!"

He looked around as he debated on answering her. Finally he took a deep breath,

slunk his ears to his head and replied with a faint. "...yeah...?"

"Could you come out here, please?" She called over the faint fizzle of something,

probably bacon. "And get ready, I'll give you a ride to school today!"

"Damnit..." He sighed. "There goes this Monday's sleeping in plan..."

He put on his PJ pants and opened his bedroom door. There, on the living room couch,

lay his father with the stupidest expression on his face.

"Wyler," He said with a drunken smile, holding out his paw. "Come 'ere and give yer ol'

dads a hug, ya?"

Wyler just rolled his eyes and walked right past him, avoiding his depth-perceptionless

grasp at his pants. He then walked into the kitchen, the smell of hamburger filling the

air as his mother looked at him with her bloodshot eyes.

"Whoa..." He said as he sat down at the table. "You look like you've had a rough

night..."

"Ya think?" She snapped as she threw a cooked patty in his direction. Wyler caught it

with his plate and proceeded to pull out some buns that were on the table. "You sent

your father out to the bars last night, Wyler. I was up all night worrying about him..."

"I slept great," The mutt scoffed as he kept his eyes on his burger. He then heard his

mother growl as she wielded a spatula in his direction.

"What are you doing, Wyler?" She said, tears almost forming in her eyes. "What

happened to the kid me and that drunken buffoon raised, huh? What happened to the

Wyler that got straight A's in school and acted like he cared for his parents?!"

"He died," The seventeen year old replied, monotone and uncaring. He then thought

about firing back a reason as silence sputtered with the patties on the stove. "He died in

a car crash when I was nine..."

Wyler kept his gaze on the table, examining the bite he has just bitten out of his

food. He waited for his mother to answer before he looked back up to her.

"I didn't know..." She spoke softly and stuttered as she kept some her attention to the

food on the stove. "I didn't know you knew..."

"I wasn't stupid, mom," He said as he got up, scratching his bare chest. "Whatever,

kay? I'm heading to school."

"I'll give you a ride," She sighed as she went to look for her keys. Wyler just grabbed

her by the arm and put the spatula back into her paw.

"Don't worry about it," He sighed, looking over to his father, who had passed out by

now. "See you when I get home."

"When will that be?" Was the last thing he heard before he went into his bedroom to

get dressed. All he could think of in his mind was how much he didn't want to answer

that question. How much he would rather just find a bunch of money, hire some

architects to build him a tree house somewhere, complete it was electricity and internet,

and just live there till the clock stopped.

~(23 years have passed since that morning when my father stumbled in wasted. That

was probably the morning where everything started to change. When I first started to

crave escape from everything. When the gears in my head started to churn out new ways

of everything.

When I look back on what all came of it, I would have stopped myself right then and

there, told myself to go to school like every other normal kid and clean up my act.

Sadly, it didn't happen this way, which is better for you, seeing as it gives me a story

to write, and even as I blather on, you're probably debating on skipping ahead to where

the real story resumes, so I will not keep you a moment further.)~

***

(8)For the first time in a long time, I can say "That I want to try"

I feel helpless for the most part, But I'm learning to open my eyes

And the sad truth of the matter is, I'll never get over it

But I'm gonna try, To get better and overcome each moment

In my own way.(8)

"Even if it kills me."

-Motion City Soundtrack.

***

Behold... OPTIC BLAST! Ha... Marvel vs. Capcom 2 . Anyways this is the intro to me new series "Caught up in the moment, but not in the right way". I hope you guys enjoyed it, seeing as it stems from a lack of inspiration. I also hope you guys noticed that i haven't set a limit to how long it will be, so maybe this will be another double digit series.

Anyways have fun everyone! *huggles!*

=Pup