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This story is ©Stilghar/Wolf Starchaser, 2005. This story contains graphic descriptions of nonhuman males engaged in homosexual acts. If this offends you, or if you are not of legal age to view such materials, go do something constructive instead. All characters are ©Stilghar/Wolf Starchaser. This story is purely fictional and has no basis in fact. I do not hate my mother. This story also takes certain liberties with the timing of real-world events. Please direct all compliments and constructive criticism to Wolf_Starchaseryahoocom, or to Stilghar on Furnet (formerly Yiffnet) IRC. Flamers will be laughed at and have their e-mail addresses blocked and sold to spammers and script kiddies. Use protection. Star Wars and all related content is ©Lucasfilm Productions. Please don't sue me, Mr. Lucas. I liked Jar-Jar. Author's note: This chapter will be written mostly from Stephen's point of view, in the first person. I've never really written from a single perspective before; consider this something of an experiment.

• * * To this day, I've never quite figured out how we got rearranged during the night. When I fell asleep, I was tied to Mike, an immense hunk of a grizzly bear, and Lenny had spooned up behind me. When I awoke, Mike and I had separated; the bear was now facing me, and I was stretched out on my back. As for Lenny...well, my kitty had long ago discovered a way to wake me up gently, and insure that I was in a very good mood when I came fully awake, and he was performing admirably, as always, when I became aware of exactly what was going on. I, of course, had no objections whatsoever. Lenny had raised a rather substantial object, though, and he was quite skillfully nursing it, bobbing his muzzle up and down on me and massaging me with his lips and tongue, going very slowly as is typical when he starts when I'm asleep. I usually let him know I'm awake with a gentle rub of his ears, but this time I felt he was doing such a good job of it that I didn't want to break his stride, so I just lay there, engrossed in the sensations Lenny was inflicting upon me. I must've given myself away somehow, though, because shortly after I realized what was going on, he stopped. I felt his weight shifting gently on the bed, and opened my eyes completely to gaze full upon his handsome face as he grinned at me. "Good morning, love," he whispered. Gods, I love that smile. "Good morning, yourself, sexy," I whispered back, and sat up slowly to kiss him. I settled back on the pillow to let Lenny resume his interrupted performance, when I felt a subtle shifting of weight on the bed. Glancing over at Mike, I realized that his eyes weren't quite closed, and one of his paws had disappeared beneath the bedsheets. Lenny noticed the change, too, and he gave me a wonderfully naughty smile. "We have an audience, dear," I murred softly. "Then let's give him something to watch," he purred. He gave my hardon a final lick, then straddled my waist, braced himself with a paw on my chest, and guided himself onto my cock slowly. I moaned softly, burying my paws in his chest fur and watching with undisguised lust as my feline lover settled himself on my maleness and slowly rode me. Mike, at this point, apparently decided to abandon subtlety. He had thrown the covers to one side, and was slowly stroking his thick bearmeat with a silly grin on his face. "Now ain't this somethin' ta wake up to?" he rumbled. "Beats the hell out of an alarm clock," Lenny observed, as he increased his pace on my rod and gave it a firm squeeze. I grasped his hips firmly, complying with his unspoken request to kick things up a notch, and began driving myself up into him harder and faster. He moaned appreciatively, kneading my pecs as I thrust myself into him and pulled him down onto my cock, and his own erection was oozing precum onto my belly. Mike, meanwhile, had sat up on his knees and scooted closer, and was still stroking that vast dick of his. He, too, was oozing pre, and I licked my chops as drops of the clear fluid dribbled onto my chest. Yes, I will freely admit it. I'm something of a cum-junkie. I'm not as extreme about it as some guys are; I don't involve food in the process, or freeze 'samples' for later use, but in the context of the act and in the heat of the moment, I love it, and will eagerly take all of it I can get, wherever I can get it. At this point, I was very eagerly looking forward to getting quite sticky. Lenny was bouncing merrily in my lap as I drove myself upward into him, trying to drive my knot into him and lock my body into his, and he began stroking his cock in time to my thrusts. "Damn," I murred, "Spend last night and this morning surrounded by randy males...I must've done something right in a past life..." Lenny gasped with pleasure and clamped down around me as my knot finally penetrated, and my thrusts became shorter. "You're doing pretty good right now, too," he purred, grinning lustily down at me. "I'll second that," Mike rumbled, leering shamelessly at us as he stroked himself. He had one paw wrapped around his eleven-inch immensity, and the other squeezing at his heavy-looking scrotum. "Damn, but you two are hot." I lifted my head a bit to lick at the tip of Mike's cock. I got a sample of his salty-sweet pre and a deep murr from the bear, but he kept himself far enough away that I couldn't quite get my lips around his shaft. "Nuh-uh. You've got yer kitty to focus on, an' I just wanna watch for now." "Fine," I snorted in mock irritation, "be that way. See if I ever blow you again." Lenny giggled, and Mike smiled innocently. "Oh, I think I'll see it plenty, unless I close my eyes." He swatted me playfully across the muzzle with his cock, then sat back to watch, and I returned my full attention to my sweet leopard, who was tugging at my knot with his clenched tailhole and clearly enjoying himself. I relaxed and let him set the pace for our mating, and simply let the sensation of having him atop me and myself trapped within him flow over me and through me. I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold back my orgasm for much longer, and from the look on Lenny's face, he'd soon explode as well. "Come on, sweetie," I murred, "cum on me. Shoot it all over me and let me know how good I make you feel." He stroked himself frantically, writhing and moaning pleasurably, impaling himself upon me and squeezing at the base of my cock. He arched his back with a loud, blissful yell, and his dick erupted, his love-juices splattering over my belly, chest, and face in thick, ropy jets. As I've mentioned before, I love cum, and I love seeing someone cum. The sight, scent, and taste of Lenny's explosion was all it took to set me off, and I let go into his beautiful body with what felt like a two-liter squirt. The both of us lay there, moaning and writhing in mutual orgasm for what had to be several minutes. When the blissful fog had faded enough to let me notice my surroundings again, it was evident that both Lenny and I were about to get a lot stickier; Mike had been pawing himself the entire time, and had just about reached his limit. I reached out with a gentle paw and stroked the fur on his leg, and Lenny did the same with the bear's shoulder and chest. We both muttered words of bawdy encouragement, and were quite soon rewarded when our ursine buddy gave vent to something not unlike a roar and his huge cock erupted, splattering his seed over the both of us. How long we lay there, cuddled into a big, sticky mass of fur, I can't say; I'd gladly have stayed there for several days, and offered up prayers of thanks to the Gods for the rest of my life for it. Being merely mortal, however, ensures certain limits, and our blissful reverie was broken, eventually, by the rumble of someone's stomach. (Mike, we all know it was you. Admit it.) Lenny grinned at the noise, and clambered off me with a somewhat regretful purr. "I guess that's my cue to get off my fuzzy ass and get started on breakfast," he announced. "I'm going to grab a shower first. You two just relax; I'll be out in a bit, and I promise to leave plenty of hot water." "You're always the thoughtful one," I commended him, and kissed him soundly before he had the chance to get away - not that he tried all that hard - and sank back to the bed as he padded out towards the master bathroom. "I love you," I proclaimed once again as I watched him go. I know, I know. I say that a lot. Well, tough. I do love him, and I can't say it enough. If I told him with every breath I took, it still wouldn't be enough. He threw back one of his heart-melting grins, and replied, "I love you too, hon," as the bathroom door shut. Mike wrapped a huge arm around me and chuckled softly. "You two are entirely too cute." I cuddled up to the huge bear and grinned at him. "I am an extremely lucky guy." We lay there silently while Lenny finished his shower; when he opened the door, I could actually feel the humidity in the bedroom escalate. My kitty had a towel draped over his shoulders like a cape, and another over his head resembling a hood. In his perpetual, inestimably silly fashion, he strode boldly toward us, and commanded in as deep a voice as he could manage, "Commander, tear this ship apart until you've found those plans, and bring me the passengers; I want them alive!" Mike looked at him oddly for a second or three, then burst out in hysterical laughter. I glanced at the big bear, then glared half-heartedly at Lenny, and threw a pillow at him. "You are not a Jedi yet," I responded calmly, which served to faze him not at all, but sent Mike even further into hysterics. "Go get started on breakfast before Ursus Maximus here asphyxiates himself," I said, referring to poor Mike who had by now thrown a pillow over his own face in a vain attempt to control his laughter. Nonplussed, Lenny bowed deeply. "As you wish," he intoned deeply, then turned with almost military precision, except for the grin on his muzzle, and strode briskly through the door towards the kitchen. He'd managed, with whatever passed for subtlety in our little household, to leave his towels behind, so I got quite a nice view of his retreating backside as he stalked off. It took Mike a while to regain his composure. Once he finally calmed, he grinned at me with all the control he could manage, and asked breathlessly, "Does he do that often?" "No," I replied with a smile. "He only quotes Star Wars when he's feeling particularly silly. Believe it or not, it's a good sign." I rubbed a paw briefly over his muscular abdomen, then hove myself off the bed and stretched. "C'mon, let's get a shower. We both need it, and he'll get annoyed if we let breakfast get cold." We showered together to save time, but there was no ulterior motive, as both of us were so spent from the previous night and this morning that even the thought of trying to get it up again was tiring. I will admit to enjoying copping a feel here and there as we lathered each other up, but Mike had no complaints at all, and returned the favor rather enthusiastically. A few minutes under the hot spray to get the sticky residues out of our fur, another few minutes under the fur driers to keep the apartment from smelling of wet canine and bear, and we decided we were fit to present ourselves for breakfast. I found a pair of shorts, more out of habit than of any real need of clothing, and Mike hunted for the jean-shorts he'd worn over from his workplace last night, and we followed the wonderful scents of Lenny's cooking into the kitchen. "Good morning, gentlemen," my leopard lover purred. "Have a seat, have some coffee; food'll be ready in a sec." Lenny, too, had donned a pair of shorts, and a silly apron he'd had custom made, with the words "Kiss the Cook" emblazoned on the front, and an arrow pointing down to a particular region of the male anatomy. I kissed him, on the cheek this time, tickling his ribs as I did until he threatened me with the spatula. Lenny's menus can be rather extensive; I sometimes wonder how we both manage to stay so slender when we eat like we do. Sure, sex burns a lot of calories, and I get a lot of exercise helping Kyushiro-sensei run his dojo, but Lenny's metabolism must be something rather impressive. Oh, well. After I ate probably a bit more than I really needed to, I sat back, took a big sip of coffee, and sighed. "I promised you something last night, Mike, but to explain my father, I have to go into quite a bit of detail about my own youth, and not all of it happy." Mike gave me a look of surprise and concern, and Lenny stopped in the process of gathering the breakfast dishes and sat next to me, rubbing my shoulder. He knew the story, of course, but even to this day, when I tell it, he stops whatever he's doing to listen. He says he does it to make up for the fact that he couldn't have been there for me at the time. Whatever his reason, I'm grateful. Lenny, I love you. "If it's that bad, hon, you don't have to," Mike started to object, but my raised paw stopped him. "No, I want to. I'm over the worst part, it's just kinda hard for a kid growing up and knowing that your mother never wanted you." With that, I sat up, and launched into the story before the bear could object. My mother was (well, I should probably say is, as she's still alive to the best of my knowledge, but we don't speak) the sort of person you read about occasionally, generally in cases of child abuse or abandonment; she is simply constitutionally unfit for parenthood. She never wanted to have children, and she viewed me as the greatest possible inconvenience the universe - and my father - could possibly inflict upon her. She never told Dad this; even though went to the trouble and expense of having a contraceptive implant surgically embedded, she merely had managed to convince him that she was barren. I'm surprised she didn't just have her tubes tied, if she had, I probably would never have entered the picture. As it was, though, she merely grew complacent and neglected to check the expiration date on her implant. I know my father well enough to imagine how thrilled he was at the news. Mother was certainly not happy. Fortunately for me, she'd either retained enough of her Catholic upbringing that she'd never considered having an abortion, or she couldn't get out from under Dad's watchful eyes long enough to go through with it. I'm not certain which situation applies, and I'm definitely sure I don't want to know. After I was born, though, things changed for Dad. Mom became distant and bitter, even a bit vicious. Dad at first put it down to post-partum depression, or the instinctive drive of some wolf mothers to keep the fathers from eating the cubs that dates back to the days when all of Furkind were still feral. He finally realized what was going on when she just up and left one day, while he was at work, taking all her possessions from the house and leaving me lying there in the cradle, alone. As I said, I know my father well, and I don't know how Mom managed to escape the child abandonment charges he would have tried to press against her. I do know she didn't get a single thing out of the divorce, and I have a strong suspicion that many of Dad's "bonuses from work" during my youth were the results of certain settlements made by her family. This whole affair understandably soured Dad's perceptions of females. He never allowed his prejudices to affect me, but he also never dated another woman. It was during this time in his life, I think, that he realized that he was also attracted to males. By his own admission, he didn't do much about it while I was little, but as I grew older, and his work required him to travel, he began to explore that side of himself. I was all of thirteen when he came out to me, but I remember the fear in his eyes when he started to explain that some males feel "that way" about other males. He was scared to death that I'd reject him, and say I wouldn't want to be his son, or I didn't want a "fag" for a father, but he couldn't bear to hide his true nature from me anymore. I told him that it didn't matter, that he'd loved me so much that he'd taken the task of raising me alone when Mom left, and that I'd love him without reservation. It was true then, and it is true now. Even to this day, my father and I are extremely close, and his husband Richard and Lenny are very good friends. I clearly remember my father hugging me, tears streaming down his muzzle, after I accepted his preferences, and that memory gave me the strength I needed to admit to him, a few years later, that I, too, liked men. At this time, there were laws still on the books in some states that criminalized sexual acts between persons of the same gender. Despite the legal battles in progress to get them struck down, the legislatures and courts of such states fought tooth and claw to keep their institutionalized bigotry on the books. This drastically changed both my life and my father's, on his last business trip into one of these states. The guy's name was Joseph. Dad had met him at the conference, and they'd gone out for a few drinks after the day's business had concluded. The only hotel rooms that had been available were decidedly seedy, but they'd had little choice but to retreat to Dad's lodgings for the night. The manager of the little fleabag establishment knew of Joseph, however, and when he saw the red panda go into the room with my father, he watched. The owner had installed a system of little hidden cameras into every room in the building, and made a fair amount of money on the side selling "Amateur Videos" of people who had no idea they were being filmed. In this instance, though, the hotel clerk used the camera feed to ensure that his call to the police would be timed so that they would catch my father and Joseph in the act. The results were quite predictable. Dad was arrested, tried, and imprisoned for "crimes against nature" in a shockingly short space of time, and his custody of me was revoked and awarded, in a glaring burst of judicial illogic, to my deadbeat mother. Neither of us were thrilled by this news; it was the first time I'd met my Mother, and she thought that she'd been free of me for the past sixteen years. It was not an enjoyable meeting, to put it mildly. Mom's "custody" of me lasted only until she could dump me off at a Catholic boarding school, near her family's hometown, that was the closest thing to prison I'd ever seen. By this time in my life I was already a devout Wiccan, and the hostility I felt from some of the monks who ran the place was truly frightening. In all fairness, most of the Brothers were not as brutish as I tend to want to make them out to be. They were strict, of course, but most tended to be fair and even-handed in their dealings with the youths in their charge. Unfortunately, a few were far harsher than one should be with kids, and one in particular was downright brutal. Brother Samuel was a cold, vindictive, vicious rat bastard. I've met a few rats and even dated one briefly, but this guy could the entire order Rodentia a bad name. His favorite implement of "correction" was a wide paddle that had to have started life as a Cricket bat, and he was very free with it...until I destroyed it. I forget what imagined infraction he was "punishing" me for, but one of his favorite methods was to strike his weapon across the palms of his victim's paws, which caused a good deal of pain, but left few visible signs on someone whose pawpads are as dark as mine. He didn't know, however, about my proficiency in the martial arts. After a certain series of movies came out in my youth, I'd begged my father to enroll me in a Karate class, and he indulged me, expecting me to give it up after a few weeks. Much to his surprise (and, honestly, to mine), I stuck with it. At the time of Dad's arrest, I had earned my first Black Belt, and only my age prevented me from claiming the award. I'd been known to shatter lumber and cinder blocks with my bare paws; I often accompanied Kyushiro-sensei for public demonstrations. As Brother Rat-bastard swung his implement down, I braced my arm, focused myself, and turned my wrist, forming my paw into a blade. The horrified expression on his face as his favorite implement shattered into toothpicks was priceless, as was the fact that none of his superiors believed that a sixteen-year-old kid could break his war club into kindling and reprimanded him for using excessive force, relieving him of his teaching duties and giving him grunge-work that kept him away from the students most of the time. I only saw him a couple times in passing after that, but the look of trepidation in his eyes when he caught sight of me gave me an evil chuckle that I was not about to explain to my classmates. I spent most of a school year in that hellhole, and heard little to no news from the outside world. Imagine, then, my surprise when I was pulled out of what passed for a History class and called to the principal's office...to meet my father! The door opened, and I saw Dad standing there with that goofy grin plastered on his muzzle and tears of joy shining in his eyes, and the rest of the Universe could have ceased to exist as far as I was concerned. I didn't know, at the time, how Dad had gotten out of prison, and I didn't particularly care. He was free, and I was going back home where I belonged. Unbeknownst to me at the time, the U.S. Supreme court had heard the case of two men in Texas, fighting a law similar to the one used to arrest my father. The Supreme Court ruled such laws unconstitutional, essentially nullifying them in all states. The appellate judge who freed my father must have been Family-friendly, as she worded her ruling overturning his conviction in such a way that he was able to make use of it in a civil suit against both the state and the owner of the Roach Motel for harassment, wrongful imprisonment, and, on the part of the hotel owner, invasion of privacy. The site where the hotel once stood is now a rather prominent nightclub, and the former owner is now bussing tables in the greasiest truck stop I've ever seen in my life. Mike grinned at me as my tale reached its happy ending, and bodily picked me up and pulled me into a bear hug that threatened to collapse my ribcage. When I could catch my breath again, I thanked him for listening to my tale. "No, thank you for sharing it, my friend," he replied. "I'd like to meet your dad someday; he seems like a helluva guy." "I'll bring him by the bar sometime," I replied, and we all had a good laugh at that idea. Not long after, Mike took his leave of us, thanking us for a wonderful time. We told him he was welcome to stay longer, but apparently his co-worker John, the Leather Tiger from the Staircase, had pulled some strings for him the previous night to enable him to leave a bit early, and the bear needed some time to make plans to thank him properly. After helping Lenny clear the breakfast dishes and load the washer, I was struck by a mischievous whim. Glancing at the clock, I did a quick calculation, using my knowledge of my father's habit of sleeping late on the weekends, and realized what he'd be doing right about now. With a wicked grin, I picked up the phone and began to dial. *** The phone on the bedside table bleated its alarm, startling both males on the bed. The grey-muzzled wolf, being the closer of the two to it, picked it up and answered a bit abruptly. "'ello?" "Morning, Dad! Hope I didn't wake you." "No, I was already up. What's the matter, son?" "Nothing, Dad. Just wanted to say hi, see how you were doing. Tell Richard I said hi. Love you, talk to ya later." Click. David Kennet glared at the pawset for a moment, and his lover, Richard McCloud, a red fox, gave him a look of concern. "Is everything alright?" "Fine, my son's just being a pest, "the older wolf sighed, setting the phone down on the table and laying back against the pillows. "I'd like to meet him again someday," Richard murred softly. "He seemed like a sweet kid." "Oh, he is, and you will. He wants to drag us out to some bar he and his boyfriend go out to a lot. Some place called the 'Staircase'." "Sounds like fun," Richard replied, "but for now, let's get back to concentrating on you." The eager fox grinned wickedly before devoting his lips and tongue to something besides speech. "Oooh, foxxie..." *** I hung up the phone, and turned to face Lenny's halfhearted glare. "What was all that about?" he asked me in that tone he uses when he wants me to think he's annoyed at me. I kissed him squarely on the nose with a naughty little giggle. "Got 'im." ~Fin~