FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The desert rolled by on either side of Thomas' father's sedan, the landscape desolate and lonely as the face of the full moon that loomed above them in the star-studded night sky. In the distance, a haze of lights signaled civilization, or what passed for it in these parts, a dim hope of something more interesting, more vibrant than the dull cacti and Joshua trees that clung to life along the dusty two-lane road. Somewhere behind them, their family's home had long since grown distant beyond sight, though Thomas could all the same feel its presence like a chain around his neck.

It was where the wolf had lived all his life, and worked, such as he was able, since he was fifteen. With a body as withered as his was, the lupine could hardly expect to have a job away from home. He rarely left, except for special events, like the one they were headed towards now.

His suit was uncomfortable, and Thomas picked at it with his left paw, inasmuch as the thing was able. That kind of effort made dystrophic muscles in his arm flutter and twitch; if he hadn't been on muscle relaxant medications, they would have cramped quite painfully.

Finally, though, that distant hopeful light on the horizon was resolving itself into a familiar bastion of civilization, a savior from the long and disquieted silence in the car.

Thomas' father let the car roll smoothly to a stop in front of the hotel's blue-tiled rotunda, letting the engine idle as he sat there, paws flexing measuredly on the wheel as the two wolves struggled with the uncomfortable silence that hung between them. They'd spent most of the hour-long drive without speaking, awkwardly angry with one another and themselves as well.

"You don't have to do this to impress me, you know," the older wolf finally grumbled, sounding defeated as he looked fully away from his boy and out the window, waving off a marmot who'd walked up in a valet's uniform.

Thomas grunted, and glowered down at the door lock. It was just like his dad to trap him into a conversation by keeping the door locked, even when Thomas wanted out. His right paw was curled up like usual in a vaguely claw-like pose, useless for that kind of fine manipulation, since it involved pulling upward. He'd felt trapped for his whole life, by his body, by this tiny town, by his parents' unwillingness to let him take risks.

"Dad," he said, words slow and measured to help with the slurring, "Unlock the door. Also, I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this because I'm tired of being...Being...Ugh." His jaw was starting to hurt, but his dad knew what he meant.

It made the older, graying-at-the-temples wolf grimace with some combination of well-meant but misguided sympathy and trepidation about their family's 'reputation.'

"I just...I just don't want you to get hurt. Telling your classmates you're a queer..."

"Gay, dad," the younger wolf enunciated, carefully, making sure to emphasize the word. "And I don't...I won't be hurt. I barely know these people any more."

Another valet walked by, holding a sign that read 'Joshua Tree High 10 Year Reunion' on it. Thomas followed the well-dressed weasel with his eyes for a moment, until the blurriness in his vision made them start to ache when the male got to the corner of his vision. His father let out a hard sigh and shook his head.

"What if they...What if your old friends reject you? You know how badly you dealt with Missy Clark finding out..."

"That was because her brother beat me up for 'tricking her' into prom. And that was ten years ago, dad. For all I know, he told everyone years ago, and this whole affair is moot. Fucking Charlie..."

"I swear to God, if that punk piece of shit messes with you..."

"If he does something, dad, I'll call the cops. Besides, Ronny will be here. He's got my back."

"Yeah, Reliable Ronny. The guy who ditched you at a football game because some chick asked him out? You had to crawl to a payphone and call me to come get you?"

Thomas flicked his ears back, and growled low under his breath. The noise sounded slurred, as if he were drunk. His dad liked to bring up one of the more embarrassing incidents of his youth every time he tried to be just a little bit independent.

"For fuck's sake, we were fifteen! That was thirteen years ago. In the five years he's worked for you, has he ever screwed up? Ever? Just unlock the door."

The locks clunked. Thomas' father looked over at him with big, soulful, worried eyes.

"You need help getting up the stairs?"

"No, dad. Therapist's been saying I need to do things for myself since I was what...Thirteen? Just help me get the crutches on."

The small wolf turned his body with laborious effort, carefully instructing each of his malfunctioning muscles to move him in the order they needed to do so. Once he had his legs out the door, planted firmly on the ground, he grabbed the door frame and slowly levered himself up and out of the vehicle. It was a titanic effort, but the crippled wolf felt ever so slightly accomplished for having managed.

One glance up the tiled front steps into that fine hotel told him it was going to be a long night. Luckily, a tall, handsome Doberman who still fit in his Football Letterman jacket from a decade ago was striding down the stairs towards him while waving. He wore an enthusiastic grin that turned his face from something out of a magazine ad into someone so approachable people couldn't help but like him.

Thomas couldn't help the grin that lit up his own face, and the jerky wag of his tail. While his dad was getting his forearm crutches from the trunk, Thomas was being wrapped up in a muscular but gentle hug. He was jealous of the big dog, always had been, for his easy physicality and happy personality. Still, he loved the big lug for never having judged him, and for being the one constant friend who'd never just up and left. Well, not permanently anyway.

He was in just about every way a wonderful safety blanket, Thomas' refuge from lonesomeness.

"Hey, puppy," the dog rumbled in his sprightly baritone, as Thomas relaxed his twitching muscles against the canine's rock-hard chest and slowly-growing gut. "I thought you weren't gonna make it for a minute there!"

"Wouldn't miss this...For the world," Thomas replied with a smile. "Gotta see the looks on furs' faces, heh."

"Hah, yeah true. I bet you five bucks Mindy Stephenson half craps herself when you come out."

This whole thing had been Ronny's idea, after all. He was happy to have his big buddy's support. Thomas would have loved to have a whole lot more of the dog, besides, but the damn dobie was straight as an engineering ruler. Not that it mattered, the wolf figured. Who would want a guy who could barely move? Who couldn't really work a real job, even? He would have been the stereotypical jobless hack living in his parents' basement, except that he lived on the top floor instead of underground.

Muscular Dystrophy had ruined his life before he'd even had a chance at it, Thomas thought to himself, and the world took such great pleasure in reminding him of that fact with every staircase, narrow doorway, and every honestly-happy normal person he ran across. Every time someone cheerfully joked that he was 'handi-capable' was another reminder that he was a 28 year old wolf with an IQ of 170 that would likely end up living off state aid after his parents retired.

Pushing that bitter old thought aside for a moment, he held onto the cologne-scented Doberman until his father had come back around, and helped him get the arm braces atop his canes locked in. Ronny stepped back at that point, and looked him up and down, giving Thomas' father a grin and a thumbs-up.

"Awesome. We've got our bionic wolf all ready to go. Don't worry, Mr. Williams. I'll take good care of him."

The Joshua Tree Inn was a fairly classy establishment, one of those little desert oasis type hotel-resorts that seemed a bit out of place for its dusty small-town surroundings. Really it was a stop-over for people who were on their way to Vegas, or visiting the National Forest, not its own destination. For the residents ofJoshuaTreeCity(population 6,000 or so), though, it was where almost every major event of social importance happened.

Not needing a tour of the place, Thomas' journey through the building hadn't taken long, and Ronny ended up helping him to a seat near a doorway that they'd discovered to be an excellent strategic staging point in their younger years. With quick access to the restroom for Thomas, a good view of the dance floor and its many gyrating furs for both of them, and only a short hall away from the biggest swimming pool in town for Ronny, they'd used that very spot for years of birthday parties, wedding receptions for their relatives, and high school dances, back when they were younger.

They were a little early, so it was just them and the event staff as of yet. Which would have given Thomas enough time to start questioning what he was trying to do, if Ronny hadn't read his mind as usual and broached the subject out loud. Leaning over from next to the small, crippled wolf, the big Doberman was as forward as always, putting his well-muscled arm around Thomas' shoulder without needing or asking permission. He smelled of Blue Jean Man, the same cologne he wore whenever he wasn't working.

"So tell me again why you're doing this? I mean I support it, just not really sure what exactly you're up to."

Thomas sucked in a slow breath, a little shaky like he always got when he was nervous, and blew it halfway out before speaking. It gave him more time to enjoy how nice it felt to be touched. Too many furs were afraid of hurting the withered-looking wolf. Ronny knew he was more resilient than he looked.

"Because I'm lonely and...No, um, I better explain...It's very lonely, when almost nobody knows who you really are."

Ronny's face did something Thomas wasn't used to seeing then. His forehead creased, and his eyes darted away. Guilt. Thomas' stomach clenched, with a gut-dropping feeling. He'd known Ronnie had felt guilty for some time now, and had his theories as to why The two of them were the only members of their graduating class who hadn't moved away from their dinky little nowhere of a home-town. He felt vaguely nauseous again, like he did every time he realized his best friend seemed to be considering moving away from their dead-end of a town.

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense," Ronny said, in that slow way he did when there was more going on upstairs. "So how do you plan to do it?"

Thomas swallowed his trepidation, hoping that he was wrong. Ronny worked for Thomas' father, running the front end of his family's auto garage, even driving the tow truck when some poor lost traveler blew his radiator in the middle of the desert. For now, he had to worry about just what the Doberman had asked.

"I...Don't know. Maybe they'll ask for people to say a few words or something, and I can...Uh..."

He'd been thinking about just that for weeks, ever since he'd gotten the invitation from his school's alumni association.

"You remember your valedictory address back at graduation?"

Thomas' ears pinned back, and he lowered his head with a grumble. Public speaking wasn't really his forte. Images of the graduating class stifling laughter at his sudden stuttering inability to talk came unbidden into his head. To make matters worse, his muscles had seized up, and he'd ended up needing help to get off the stage so graduation could go on. Ronny broke his painful reverie by continuing.

"I know," Ronny brightened, with a grin. "There's gotta be at least one other guy from our year who's gay. Dance floor's right in the middle..."

Thomas glowered up at the Doberman. For all that they'd known each other since they were five, Ronny sometimes forgot that his little wolf buddy had Muscular Dystrophy, could barely walk nevermind dance. Or maybe he forgot on purpose, in some misguided attempt to downplay the disability to more or less ruled Thomas' life.

"Sorry, sorry," Ronny placated, raising both paws in surrender. "So okay, we gotta come up with a plan. You're good at those, so plan and tell me my part?"

Ronny tried to lower his face into his paws. His neck spasmed, and his tiny, withered paws shook, and he suddenly felt the hot wash of tightened muscles in his chest and clenching in his throat that meant tears were close. It was too frustrating, and the wolf was starting to wonder if maybe his father was right. This sort of thing always happened when he tried to make a change in his life, or take a risk; his mostly-useless body got in the way.

"J-just..." he swallowed against the mortifying urge to let out a gusty sob. Thomas just refused to let that happen. He wasn't going to break down tonight, or so he'd promised himself. Ronnie's arm tightened around him, and the wolf's cheek ended up resting against the steady sturdiness of his buddy's muscular, athletic chest. Ronnie understood, and wasn't going to push. So Thomas took his time, letting his breath calm down.

"Just go and dance, okay? I'll figure something out later on."

"I'll be nearby, okay?" the dobie murmured against the top of his little buddy's head. "You need anything, just call me over."

"Yeah." He wanted to tell the big dog to go have his own fun for once, and bitterly added to himself that the dog shouldn't have to lose out on his own fun for one crippled, useless wolf.

Gently strobing lights and thumping late-90's pop music wove a hypnotic pattern that seeped through the background of silhouetted dancers. Nobody knew the moves, and unlike at their Senior Prom, nobody bothered to be an elitist shit and point that out. Of the thirty or so graduates they'd had, almost all of them had shown up, and brought with them spouses and friends.

Thomas had watched them all come in, surprising himself with how different many of them looked and acted. Marianne Stuart, once a frumpy antisocial goth chick who'd been nearly expelled for beating the crap out of a freshman for looking at her wrong, had slimmed up to a killer figure and was smiling and laughing while shaking paws with other furs. She was also heavily pregnant, and dressed in a shiny blue outfit, hanging on the arm of her handsome husband. Geeky Josh Frasier had, conversely, gained a hundred pounds and facial tattoos, and had explained to someone nearby Thomas that he'd just been elected head of his chapter of some biker club or another. Also that his parole officer had been a real pain in the ass about letting him come to the event.

Half the football lineup looked like they'd been living in trailer parks, with their beer guts and ill-fitting shirts. Still, they pretended just as hard as anyone else to be having a great time, and lied as much as anyone about their career accomplishments. The other half seemed almost bashful of how much they'd accomplished, and let their nice suits and confident airs speak of achievements they were too modest to parade in other furs' faces.

A few of the former cool kids had even come over to hang out with 'Tarded Tommy,' though none had been brave enough to actually apologize for all the mostly-verbal abuse, and none stayed longer than a minute or two necessary to be polite out of guilt. The wolf had forced himself to let it go for the night, though he desperately wanted not to, smiling forcefully and holding conversation with furs who'd once tormented or just flat ignored him out of personal discomfort. It wouldn't do to be an ass, not if he was going to reveal himself as he intended, and maybe even forge some new friendships from the ashes of bitter old memories.

More disappointing was the fact that Lisa Meiers hadn't shown up. The last member of their trifecta, she, Thomas, and Ronnie had been inseparable up until the last few weeks of summer a decade ago. She'd been accepted at Cornell with a full ride scholarship, something the diminutive German shepherd had taken both of their advice on, and gone to with gusto, leaving little old Joshua Tree City in her past.

Unfortunately, as her life there had gotten more and more involved, she'd talked to Thomas and Ronnie less and less. It still hurt, but they were happy for her, even if they never heard from their tiny canine friend any more.

Ronnie'd had to protect her, too, Thomas remembered. Lisa was born two months premature, and hadn't grown very tall. He looked down at their graduation photo, the three of them standing together arm-in-arm as much as they were able. Thomas had needed to sit down in a wheelchair for that part of the ceremony, because he couldn't stand still well enough for the camera. Ronnie stood like a great shining mountain next to and slightly behind him.

Lisa looked like a large doll, perched between them on top of a staging block. She was about 80 lbs, Thomas remembered, and about four foot six or so. He noticed the asthma inhaler in her left paw, half-hidden behind the graduation gown, and chuckled stutteringly to himself at the memory of how enthusiastically they'd once called themselves the 'Gimp Squad.' Before someone pointed out what 'Gimp' meant in context of the BDSM community. Lisa had blushed like a fire hydrant.

Word around the reunion was that she was terminally ill, or that she was pregnant, or even that she had moved toBelarusto marry some rich prince. Thomas had e-stalked her just enough to know she was actually just busy teaching, having ended up as a professor of economic theory for theCalStateuniversity system.

What surprised him a bit more than all that, though, was that he failed to spot Missy or Charlie Clark. He'd been the Homecoming King, and she'd been in charge of their high school yearbook, both of them voted as 'most likely to succeed' for their respective genders. Charlie had been the star quarterback for their school's football team, though he'd gotten in a lot of trouble for the beating he gave Thomas over that whole mess of Prom. Thomas had felt bad at the time, like he was holding back someone with so much more potential.

Then again, Thomas had ended up in the hospital with a broken rib, so he figured Charlie deserved what he got on that score. The little wolf had just felt guilty because Missy was upset, and he had honestly liked her, though not been attracted to her in the least. He'd later realized his only 'attraction' to her was that she didn't look down on him for being crippled and disfigured. Her agreeing to take him to prom was an act of kindness he hadn't been expecting.

After waving Ronnie off for about the hundredth time, Thomas settled back in his chair, wriggling to get his rump to start having some circulation again, and was about to start doing paw exercises to pass the time when a shadow fell across him from behind. It loomed, ominously, on the white tablecloth he sat in front of, shadow dancing among the dinner plates and abandoned drink cups.

"Uh...H-hey," a deep, vaguely familiar voice muttered, bashfully. "I...Can I sit?"

"That depends," Thomas responded slowly, trying ineffectively to crane his uncooperative neck to get a look at this newcomer. "On who you are."

"You're sweating," the voice behind him rumbled, and Thomas felt movement in the way his fur shifted in the breeze of a paw almost touching them. "Can I...I know this is going to sound weird, but will it hurt if I touch you?"

Thomas' hackles immediately rose in a wave of nerves. Nobody ever wanted to touch him, except Ronnie with his ubiquitous hugs, and the physical therapist who got paid to do it. Even his own father was reluctant to do so, soldiering through it the way the old wolf did with everything unpleasant but necessary. Now this person, who's voice he recognized but couldn't put a face to, wanted to touch the sweat on his neck?

The wolf tried to stammer an answer, but as often happened with his MD-crippled body, nervousness made his muscle control poor. His words came out as a mismatched slur, and a spike of embarrassment that rolled up his spine like a cold shot of water. Misunderstanding, evidently, the fur behind him laid a paw gently against the wolf's neck, wiping the sweat away with gentleness that surprised Thomas, enough so that when the paw drifted down to his shoulder, he didn't angrily shake it away or demand testily to know what this fur thought he was doing.

"Listen," the voice said, low-toned and quiet, as if somehow afraid, "I just want to talk to you okay? M-maybe...Somewhere more private if that's okay with you?"

Thomas realized the male behind him was afraid, then, by the slight tremor in an otherwise confident-seeming voice. The paw against the back of his neck was dead still, too, as if afraid it would shatter his bones or startle him away. He gained a moment of confidence from the annoyed realization that this fur was probably assuming his frame was as fragile as it looked. Then he reminded himself not to be angry at that; someone who'd had no exposure to living around people with Muscular Dystrophy would logically have no idea what to expect; the guy was just trying to be nice.

Or maybe was offering pity. The thought made him consider refusing, telling the fur to get lost. Something, though, in that beseeching voice, made him think there was more to what was being asked, and he was just curious enough to indulge the mystery fur.

"Alright. Private...Um."

"C'mon," the other male said, and without further ado reached down around Thomas' side, looped a strong arm around his waist, and lifted him up as if the wolf weighed no more than a small bag of sugar. Suddenly, his world was whirling, as this unknown fur lifted him up bodily, never giving him the chance to protest or grab at his forearm crutches. His last view of the dance hall before being turned away from it was of his two long, black standing aids, left forlorn and alone at the table, calling out to him with the sight of them.

The wolf sucked in a breath and tried to protest, afraid to be away from the very things that let him walk upright. He was helpless now, at the mercy of this strange fur, who was carrying him straight down the hallway towards the pool area. Thomas struggled to tell his muscles what to do, visualized the simple action of moving his arm up and waving to get this other fur's attention, thought about moving his lips to say the words 'put me down' or 'take me back,' but no movement came, beyond useless jerks of crippled muscles. The pool loomed ahead of them, as the hall seemed to get shorter and shorter.

The last time he'd been near one without Ronnie nearby, one of his asshole classmates had shoved him in 'as a joke.' Thomas had spent three days in the hospital with pneumonia, after having inhaled water nearly drowning before someone had pulled him out. Water deeper than his waist had scared him shitless ever since. As the pool loomed to his front, the hall seemed to darken, and Thomas could already feel the water on his fur, in his snout, unable to control his body enough to keep it out as he sank...

Just as he was growing certain this fur was about to throw him in on a lark, the big male turned to the left, walking precariously close to the looming depthless darkness of the unlit pool. The scent of chlorine, metallic and harsh to his oversensitized snout, warred with the vaguest hint of fear bile, as his captor carefully folded himself down onto one of the poolside benches.

The big, muscular, warm arms stayed wrapped around Thomas' body, gently moving him until he was sitting in the other fur's lap, flushed from the situation and his fear both. He still couldn't see this mysterious male.

"Who," he managed, swallowing before continuing with deliberate determination, "are you?"

For a few seconds, the male was quiet, before he spoke again. It gave Thomas time to realize he was facing the pool, and to stare into its inky darkness. Without lights ignited, under the desert sky, it looked like a carpet of slightly roiling stars barely covering a darkness as black as death.

"I'll give you a hint. I'm a wolf, like you are."

"That," Thomas replied crossly, while trying to marshal his breath back under control, "doesn't narrow things that much."

"We graduated together?" the wolf offered helpfully.

"Well no shit. Though I guess that means you're not a plus-one."

"Hah...No, I don't know anybody who'd invite me to this kind of thing. Guess I'm not real...Uh...Good at making friends."

Thomas snorted and rolled his eyes, again trying to crane his neck. The paws around him kept the little wolf well-seated though, not allowing him to get a view of the stranger.

"Why are you hiding from me?"

"Because if you saw me, you'd never let me say what I came all the way from San Fran to say."

Thomas chewed that over in his head for a short while, as the other seemed to be dredging up courage for whatever he had to say. There were too many furs who fit in the 'might have uncomfortable things to say to me' category, but none who seemed the type to sit a helpless wolf down in their lap without so much as a by-your-leave. Well, Ronnie might have, as a tease, but this clearly wasn't him.

"So say what you need to say, since you came so far to say it," Thomas grumbled, annoyed that his otherwise quick mind was having such trouble figuring out so simple a mystery.

The fur underneath him shifted slightly, and Thomas couldn't help but notice its firm, muscular build and thick if somewhat scratchy pelt. In some other circumstance, this could be a situation he'd dream about, settled in to some handsome male's lap under the bright moon. Sadly every dream like that ended the same way; waking up, and realizing nobody could want such a thing, at least not for carnal reasons.

"Well...I wanted to apologize."

Thomas' ears perked even as his brows dropped. Apologize? They were, in his experience, either the result of someone trying to make themselves feel better about mistreatment of others that wasn't going to change, or acts of pity. He had no interest in either.

"I don't want your apologies. Now take me back inside." His tail tried to lash in annoyance, but the muscles weren't cooperating, so it just twitched a bit against the larger fur.

"Whoah, hey...Chill, Tommy. Look, I uh...When we were in school, I treated you like shit. Do you want to know why?"

More curiosity was all that kept him from trying to get free. Falling on the ground and crawling back to the party would be better than dealing with the morbid embarrassed anger he knew would come if this turned into some kind of narcissistic pity-giving. He was about half sure this strange fur wouldn't follow him if he tried it.

"Okay, I'm game. Why?"

"It wasn't because you're handicapped. It's because...Oh man, how to explain?"

Thomas growled, and managed to sit forward enough to clench his abs and stay upright. His torso had been mostly spared by the disorder that had wrecked his arms and legs, and that let him sit up and away from this other male, enough for his pride to feel a bit assuaged anyway. As if he weren't utterly reliant on an oddly-behaved stranger.

A stranger who was shifting slightly, just as nervous as Thomas.

"In freshman year, remember how you got a perfect score on the PSAT?"

Thomas grimaced slightly. He'd never felt very good about that supposedly difficult test. The school had given him almost twice the amount of time as other students had available, to complete it. He hadn't felt it was a fair result.

"Yeah, I guess."

"You guess? Dude. I scored a 1350. When I found out you'd gotten a perfect 1600, I nearly died of jealousy. In elementary school, I'd been the big brain in the class, and then...Well, you blew me out of the water."

Thomas' ears flicked, and twisted back to get a better angle at what he was hearing. It didn't make sense - None of the so-called 'nerdy' kids had really given him any trouble. Most were too busy trying not to get pushed around by the school's limited-in-number but very fat-headed jocks.

"So you...What...You're not the guy who threw me in the pool. I'd recognize that voice anywhere."

He heard the grimace, and felt air moving from the other wolf shaking his head.

"No, I'm not that piece of shit. Um...So anyway, I tried to learn to study the way you did. Tried to catch up, you know? I figured if I could beat you at academics, I wouldn't have to...Uh. No pleasant way to put this. At the time, I was afraid of being jealous of a cripple."

Thomas scowled. The only reason someone wouldn't want to be 'jealous of a cripple' was because they saw those crippled furs as somehow lesser.

"So you what...Spat at me on the quad? Or were you the one that unloaded a whole can of Old Spice in my locker every day for a month? Because that had to have gotten expensive. Or maybe you're John Sims, who kept pushing Lisa around trying to pick a fight with me."

The mystery wolf shifted slightly under Thomas' behind, made uncomfortable by the angry, accusatory questions. He'd hit a nerve even Thomas hadn't realized was still sore, and was catching the vitriol that spewed from it.

"No. I avoided you," the bigger wolf said into the post-anger silence. "Tried to pretend you didn't exist. Right up until I saw you flying that little rainbow flag, after prom."

Thomas blinked, and grabbed a paw onto this mystery-wolf's thigh, before leaning hard to one side and twisting to get a view of his would-be captor.

Even in the poolside darkness, which wobbled with wavy glitters of reflected starlight, he could tell this other wolf had a strong face with a thick jaw and tall proud ears. Though the color of his eyes was a mystery in that night-bleached lighting, Thomas could tell the other wolf's fur was a russet-brown color, well-groomed and supple. Surprise turned quickly to befuddlement, then to rapid-fire words that spilled past his lips in a slurred stream.

"Rainbow...Flag? I never carried a rainbow...You beat my ass for going to prom with your sister because of a FLAG?!"

Charlie Clark tilted his head, an intense look crossing his handsome face as the big wolf made the effort to parse and separate those words. Then his eyebrows rose until they touched.

"Wait...So you weren't...Someone must've slipped it onto your chair. It was like taped to the back of your wheelchair seat for most of the day."

Thomas glared at him, anger and confusion battling inconclusively in a storm through his chest and gut. Somehow, the fact that he'd been beaten up because of some asinine prank he hadn't even noticed made it all the worse. For a decade, he thought Charlie Clark had beaten him up because he somehow 'realized' Thomas was gay...Though in retrospect, he suddenly realized, there really was no way that could have happened.

Charlie's jaw stretched in a grimace, and he looked down, ears flopping backward in embarrassment. His eyes seemed locked on where Thomas' rump sat in his lap, and the flush that rose into his ears was so strong they both knew about it.

"Ah...So you're not...?"

"Well, yes I am gay, in fact," Thomas blurted, remembering the whole reason he'd come to the event that night.

"Oh...S-so you...Ah...Well, I..."

"Now's the part where you throw me in the pool to drown?" Thomas bit out, words dripping with angry acidity.

Charlie's ears shot up again, and he looked more startled now than embarrassed or afraid.

"N-no! No, no fuck no. I'm apologizing because I was a shit-heel and you didn't deserve what happened!"

"And what brought you to that conclusion?" Thomas asked, now confused, feeling as if he was losing the thread of just what in the hell was going on.

Charlie's ears went back again, and he looked away with a cough. For a few seconds, he shuffled in silence, while re-settling his arms to keep Thomas from sliding off his lap to the concrete. When he finally started talking again, he couldn't seem to make eye contact.

"I...After I beat you up, I got sent away to juvie for a couple of months. Just long enough to miss all my exams, which blew any chance I had at scholarships...Barely graduated."

Thomas just waited and watched, encouraging him to go on without saying a word. This soulful, soft-spoken beginning seemed so counter to what he remembered of Charlie Clark. There was none of the arrogance of a football star, a loudmouthed leader and bully.

"It wasn't...We didn't have money for college, and I didn't have the grades for scholarships. I didn't manage to do so well, not at first. Fell flat on my face. Couldn't get a job for a while, then got work with this factory...Uh...Anyway, broke both of my legs on the third day when I got hit by a piece of machinery. Never felt so fucking useless before. Couldn't take care of myself, for the first time in my life.

"Anyway, it got me to thinking about how I'd treated you. You were smarter than me, and I hated you for it...And it just wasn't fucking fair, after everything you went through. I saw what everyone else did to you, how...How fucking unfair it is that your body is this way...Fucked me up pretty good."

Thomas forced himself to stay quiet, merely nodding, though his gut was roiling with a strange sensation he couldn't quite place. It was nervousness, he thought, as if his body were anticipating something shatteringly dangerous.

"Then I...Well, I started coming to terms with the fact that I was jealous about other things too. Nobody seemed to care that you had that rainbow flag, and...Well, I was so deep in the closet I could see Narnia."

Thomas felt something building in his chest, a strange sort of hot pressure, and he kept twisting around in the other wolf's arms until he was sitting across his lap, almost snout to snout with Charlie.

"And now...I find out you didn't even mean to show that flag off, and I..." the wolf was choking up, and Thomas along with him. Being beaten half to death by Charlie Clark had been one of the crowning miseries of his rather difficult highschool years, a capstone to the suffering. On the one paw, half the town had wanted to kill Charlie for beating up poor crippled Thomas. On the other paw, Thomas had felt almost vindicated in his sense of helplessness, a strange sort of affirmation that he really couldn't accomplish much thanks to his disability.

It had been strangely comforting to know that he lived on the tolerance of others; that it was okay for him to be behind others in terms of accomplishments, because he was crippled and unable to achieve the things others took for granted.

Now, here Charlie was, apologizing for doing that to him. Stating that it should never have happened. Complimenting Thomas for his intelligence and perseverance. The little wolf felt suddenly deeply ashamed for his own self-pity, guilty about his failures. Deeply aware that he was about to start sobbing in front of a wolf who likely wouldn't understand all the subtext that came with three decades of being profoundly disabled.

All he could think to do was turn on the bigger lupine's lap until they were face to face, then lay up against him and wrap his weak, shaking arms around Charlie's back. The atrophied muscles of his arms tried to resist him, but he forced them, despite the damn things' unwillingness to respond the same way to his will twice.

Thomas could feel Charlie's shivers, the shaking of his lungs as they both tried not to let tears fall. If there had been any doubt to his words' sincerity, Thomas couldn't bring himself to hold onto it. Those kinds of shakes couldn't be faked.

Now he had to take a risk, something he never liked to do. Thomas felt it was the right time, though, and as the moon drifted with careless grace through the bleak starry sky, he decided to follow its silvery example.

"I came here tonight to come out. I wanted to make a statement of who I am, as being more than just some crippled guy. Would you help me?"

Charlie nodded his head, and snuffled back some wetness in his snout. His eyes looked wet, but curious, if a bit wide and perhaps frightened. His arms around Thomas' back tightened, and rubbed at the tense muscles there.

"You're braver than I ever was. How can I help?"

"Lets...Lets go dance."

Charlie grinned, and turned his head towards the hotel's ballroom. There, in the distance, light spilled from the half-closed door, and music called to them. They were seeing it from afar, as if locked out in the cold on a winter's night. But all it would take to go in there and join the party was the courage to get up.

Charlie couldn't very well let his old high school rival be more brave than he was. Be damned the consequences of coming out, he thought, as he wrapped his arms once more beneath Thomas' legs and back, and stood up.

When he looked down, Thomas' wet eyes met his. Their lips touched before he really realized what he was doing. It felt right.

Thomas had insisted, years ago, on taking the upstairs bedroom despite his parents' fear that he'd fall down the stairs. It had been a statement of independence, one of the few he'd ever managed to get away with. It also gave him privacy, since his parents never went up there farther than the landing halfway up those stairs, to call him down for dinner.

From his attic bedroom's two windows, he could see views out all over the desolate desert valley Joshua Tree City sat in. Since he was a puppy, the attic's window seats had been his favorite place. He could sit on them, back braced up against the wall, and watch as life went on around him, unfettered by the prison that was his own body. He could imagine living through the townsfolk, pretending he was any one of them, imagining what they were doing with their day.

Thomas could watch the hawks and desert animals going about their business, living, breeding, eating, dying, without a care in the world.

Thanks to the privacy, he could even use the vibrator he'd gotten Ronnie's help buying, without his parents ever being the wiser. Figuring out how to set it so that his clumsy limbs wouldn't be an impediment to masturbating had been quite the challenge.

As he managed the last step up and pushed the door to his bedroom open, Thomas noticed he'd left the thing suction-cupped to the window seat. A slight grimace wriggled across his muzzle, as the taller wolf behind him snorted in soft laughter, blowing warm breath across Thomas' shoulder.

"I like the décor," Charlie quipped dryly, even as his paws played under Thomas' shirt and along his belly fur. Those big, gentle paws hadn't seemed to have left Thomas' sides since they'd walked onto that shell-shocked dance floor. They made him shiver with trepidation and lust, as one paw slipped down and started undoing Thomas' belt.

Thomas fell back on his old go-to defense against embarrassment. Sardonic humor.

"Well, cock pumps are too expensive, and if I tried to suck myself off I'd probably get stuck."

Charlie snorted again, and pressed his muzzle to the back of Thomas' neck, nibbling into the fur until his teeth met goose-fleshed skin. Suddenly helpless with a shot of shivery lust, the small wolf sagged back against the larger one, losing his grip on the forearm crutches. Luckily, Charlie was there to catch him, and held Thomas up as if he weighed no more than a feather.

Then he was being lifted up again, which would have annoyed the normally ascerbic wolf if it wasn't for how very much he wanted to get in bed as quickly as possible. Charlie deposited him on it with gentle paws, then grinned up at the diminutive wolf while kneeling down in front of him, muzzle at Thomas' chest level.

"This is your first time, huh?" he asked, in a voice bereft of judgment. Thomas just nodded, not trusting his voice for more, and flopped his withered arms down on either side of his torso. Charlie reached past him and grabbed a few pillows, putting them behind Thomas' back before gently using a paw on the smaller wolf's chest to push his shoulders up against the wall just behind his twin bed.

When Charlie took Thomas' tail in paw, and gently tugged it to one side, the smaller wolf let out a whimper that would have mortified him with embarrassment if he hadn't been half-hypnotized by what was actually happening. There was someone crouched down between his skinny little legs, murring and slowly wagging his long, bushy wolf tail, looking pleased as punch that he was about to do something naughty. The whole thing was just baffling, alien, something he'd never thought would ever happen to him. The realization he was gay came almost exclusively from knowing what sort of porn he liked to download illicitly, and who he fantasized about.

Still, he couldn't deny how amazing it felt, indescribably delicious, when Charlie unsnapped his pants, reached in, and wrapped a paw around Thomas' throbbing, leaking red rocket. Thomas felt a surge of strange, awkward, embarrassed pride when his prick was pulled free of his pants, and Charlie's eyes stared at it, widened.

"Holy shit," he mumbled, looking up at Thomas past the massive eight inch tool that partly blocked his handsome face from sight.

Thomas gave a sheepish grin and mumbled out an explanation he figured Charlie was asking for.

"People with Muscular Dystrophy have atrophied muscles and are usually small-bodied, but our genitals are usually totally normal or uh...Bigger and more developed than..."

"Nice, you've got a beautiful dick," Charlie interrupted with a grin, as his paw wrapped around the big tool's base, where Thomas' knot was already swollen and throbbing. Then the big wolf, knelt down between Thomas' knees, leaned in and wrapped his lips over that leaky, shiny tip, and swirled his tongue down its angry-red veiny surface.

"Uh...Uh!" Thomas choked out, trying to give some kind of warning. His balls pulled up, and his knot throbbed, and when Charlie gave it a nice gentle squeeze, Thomas felt himself explode right past the line of no return.

Hot, wet pressure slurped down on his cock, and Thomas let loose with the first creamy shot just as his throbbing tip was jammed against the ribbed flesh of Charlie's soft palette. In hard, long bursts he jetted cum as lights danced in his eyes from the intensity of the pleasure that radiated up from his balls and down into his curling toes, causing him to gasp raggedly and struggle not to slide sideways off his nest of pillows. The wolf sucking his jerking, jetting cock let out a little grunt, then a choking sound, and came up coughing whiteness even as more of it blasted out to splatter across his chin and lips.

Wrapped up in the almost painful pleasure of the best orgasm of his life, Thomas watched in bleary-eyed silence as his cock's shots started to tail off, and gasped again as the other wolf engulfed it, seeming so unconcerned with his own cum-plastered jaw. The big wolf seemed quite content, pleased even, to drink him dry as his orgasm trailed off, then sat there with his muzzle wrapped around a slowly-softening shaft, loving on it with gentle strokes of his tongue.

Thomas gave an out-of-breath grin, and managed to force his right arm up and forward, to trail blockily along Charlie's cheek, no longer caring whether his own fur got mussed by the mess there.

"Mm," Charlie commented, while pulling free with a soft, lewd pop, to lick his lips and nuzzle into the paw touching his cheek. "A little fast, but that's okay. Tasted great, and we can practice all you want."

Thomas already felt flushed, overheated, but was pretty sure his ears were turning red now too, as he started to laugh softly. Charlie's paw wrapped its fingers into his, as the wolf rose, sliding chest to chest with the sated one, seeming to very much enjoy the feel of fur on fur.

"So," Charlie said, between gentle kisses, "I'm starting my own business soon, back in San Fran. Three-dimensional printing services. I really need someone who can do coding oversight and supervise stuff...Don't suppose you'd be interested?"

Thomas managed another laugh, and raised his eyebrows, curious that he wasn't feeling a terrible storm of fear and indecision at the thought of leaving home. So much of his life was deliberate, planned out to the last step, because of his disabilities and the fear of falling victim to happenstances that would never concern a regular fur.

But Charlie, chin still slick with slowly drying spunk, seemed to bring with him a sense of enthusiastic impulsiveness. Thomas laughed one more time, into the growing quiet, before nuzzling against the bigger wolf's cheek.

"I...Don't know if I'm qualified, but I'd love to at least try."

"Oh good. All the sex you want as a signing bonus!"

Ronnie heaved the last box, labeled 'DVD's', into the bed of his beaten-up old pickup truck, and gave a thumbs-up to Thomas, who sat primly upright in its front passenger seat. The poor guy was starting to show signs of nerves, like he always did before a long drive. Using roadside restrooms every couple hours wasn't much fun for a guy who couldn't really maneuver in tight spaces on his own. Nevermind the fact that he was a bit freaked out about all the possible problems that could come with moving a whole state away into the unknown.

Ronnie had reassured him that he wasn't afraid to help out, and reminded him it wasn't the first time he'd held Thomas up at a urinal to help the disabled wolf pee. Hell, it wouldn't be the first time he held the wolf's sheath for him while he did it, just to make sure there wasn't any splattering on Thomas' shoes.

He was just about to go up and get moving when he noticed a tear in one of the boxes, and reached out to try pushing it shut. A bit of glossy black metal inside perked his curiosity, and he leaned in to peer at it.

Then he grabbed the box off his truck's bed, dug the object out with a growl, and stormed around to Thomas' side.

"Dude, what the fuck," Ronnie spat, holding out the .38 pistol, side-on, as he flipped the cylinder out and dumped the single bullet into his off paw. The cartridge was held up between his two fingers, with an accusing glare.

Thomas' return look was calm, collected, level as he spoke.

"Please get in the truck, before my parents see that. I'll explain as we drive."

Ronnie growled, but assented, stuffing the bullet into one pocket and the revolver into the other, before trotting around the front of his truck and hopping nimbly up into the driver's seat. A few moments later, they were rumbling off on a dusty desert road under the rising morning sun.

Thomas smiled at it, because it was beautiful, rising slowly with a ruddy light in their rear-view mirror.

West, he thought, West is the direction of new beginnings.

_ _

Ronnie cleared his throat, and flicked an ear towards Thomas as he pulled onto the highway.

"So talk. Why do you have a gun with one bullet in it?"

Watching the desert roll by wasn't nearly so bleak, Thomas noticed, as he leaned his head against the window. The tumbleweeds seemed to have a direction they wanted to go, now, though intellectually he realized that was just his own mind putting character to things that had none.

"I wanted to end on a high note. At the ten year reunion, I was going to come out, have a good time, then go home and...Well...I'm not likely to live to old age anyway, you know? I didn't think there was anything left for me."

Ronnie was angry, Thomas knew. The dog never was very good at hiding his emotions, and his knuckles were clenched white on the steering wheel. Still, Ron was nothing if not patient with his best friend. The dog cleared his throat, and spoke with a hoarseness that surprised Thomas, wrenched at his gut.

"Was this because I was moving away?"

An uncomfortable silence settled over them for a few seconds, before Thomas responded, with careful honesty.

"When I started to suspect you were planning to leave, it made me realize how empty my life is. I'd known for a long time that I was losing the will to keep going, being a drain on everyone. So...Yes and no. Sorry, Ron. I know I was being stupid."

"A drain? Are you really that blind?" Ron asked, turning his head just enough to briefly meet eyes, before looking back to the road as mile signs started to drift by. Joshua Tree City was shrinking slowly in the mirror, and seemed to fade away as desert dust kicked up to obscure it.

Thomas just gave an embarrassed half-smile and shrugged one shoulder.

"I love you too, Ronnie. I'm sorry. Keep the gun. Pretty sure I won't need it any more."

"Fucking right you won't, Thomas. You tell this new boyfriend of yours that I'm taking that third bedroom you mentioned. Not letting your ass out of my sight again."

Thomas blushed and looked down at the floorboards, where his skinny, withered feet sat at the odd angle they settled into when he sat in Ronnie's truck.

"Well, I'm pretty sure Chuck's new company needs at least one more employee...And please, just call me Tom. Thomas sounds so...Stilted. I'm going to try not to be him any more."

Ron reached over and touched the little wolf's shoulder with his right paw, a gentle squeeze of affection. Then he shook Tom slightly, with a growl that bordered on playful.

"Scare me like this again and I'll drop kick your tiny ass to the moon."

Tom laughed and turned his head, sticking his tongue out at the vastly bigger dog.

"You'll try, that's for sure."