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Hehhey, folks!

This is the first chapter of a commission to Jon Sanders - who actually was my very first commissioner, but this story has been brewing for a while, so I must give a big paw to the friend otter for being so patient with me! And I think this is a story for many people to like and enjoy, I hope! Do leave me feedback, and remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!

*

Weeeeell...so maybe I was a bit hungover still, standing in Coach Kruger's jockstrap-scented office behind the stands of the City Smashers field and generally feeling like I was gonna throw up.

"...vandalizing Dean Oldbridge's memorial garden..."

Well not really...just passing out on it...kinda...well, Jeff threw up in one of the floral arrangements, I just kinda fell asleep in one...Micky was lucky that he didn't roll into the pond once he settled down for a nap, hah...

"...did you really think that Sergeant Halloran wouldn't call me?"

Halloran, huh? That goddamn Nazi-looking wolf boss of the campus police who liked walking around and swirling his taser gun in his pawfingers while gloomily staring at the passing cars and any unfortunate furs on foot...

"Uhhh...I dunno..."I rumbled, "don't really remember...uh...much."

So me and Micky and Jeff did go out of the Blue Bumper for a few, to look at some of the chicks and shoot some pool until we were too drunk to play and then we just hung around and got into a verbal argument with some stupid marketing students and then we really didn't feel like hanging out there anymore and ended up staggering to the middle of the campus and fall asleep on the old dean's garden...hmm...yeah...I guess I could tell why the Coach was kinda feeling bummed about it.

"For fuck's sake, Caruthers!" the German Shepherd sitting passive-aggressively behind the desk slammed his paw down, causing a mug filled with pencils to fall over and spill them all over the cluttered desk, including his computer keyboard and roll down to his lap.

I yawned and scratched my bulging belly and noticed once again that my muzzle tasted like shit and really wished that I'd be in my dorm sleeping and being summoned to the Coach's office on Friday morning when I could be sleeping and skipping my Macroeconomics lecture instead of being gazed by a very pissed-off-looking dog with some personal issues.

"Uhm...sorry, sir?"

"GO APOLOGIZE DEAN OLDBRIDGE'S GHOST MORE LIKE!" the German Shepherd barked, almost enough to make me care.

"GOT MY ENTIRE DEFENSIVE TEAM IN THE CAMPUS JAIL! CAN YOU IMAGINE WHAT THAT'LL LOOK LIKE, TWO WEEKS BEFORE OUR NEXT GAME?"

"Uhmm...I guess it looks kinda shitty," I said, and so did the memorial. At least I couldn't remember anyone pissing on it, like the lacrosse team did during my first year here...hahah.

The Coach didn't look amused, nor compassionate, as I noted my opinion on the state of things now that the three of us had been delivered to his paws by that Nazi Halloran.

"Coach Wesley will not let me live it down," the German Shepherd grumbled, naming his nemesis on the Dominators, a massively muscled cougar I knew to never miss a chance to try to crush us, and especially to make a fool out of Coach Kruger.

Murr.

"So, guess we should just play a really good game and make sure he won't even have a chance to mention it?" I mumbled, flicking my ears hopefully.

Coach Kruger wiped some pens and pencils off his computer keyboard and harrumphed, his tail smacking the back of his office chair.

"Don't you get smart, Caruthers!" he grunted. "I don't know who the hell got the idea, I'm gonna have to punish all of you now, or otherwise I'm gonna have to throw you out of the team, and that'd mean no defense and that'd mean NO GAME!"

"We all want to win," I rumbled, though I wasn't sure whether any kind of assurances would work anymore. I really only wanted to drink some Alka-Seltzer, masturbate, and sleep until sunset, or preferably until tomorrow.

"A true winner doesn't corrupt their body with alcohol ON A THURSDAY NIGHT!"

So how about his own hip flask, huh?

"I guess we were bored..."I mumbled.

"This isn't a goddamn interrogation, this is the sentencing!" the German Shepherd barked out in reply. "I know you're all to blame, you're all to be punished!"

Well, whatever he could dish out on us was probably not going to be anything worse than some extra practice...I could do that...we could have fun goofing around with the ball on the field...it wouldn't be so bad.

"Okay, sir," I rumbled.

"Don't OKAY SIR me, Caruthers!"

"Uh...sorry..."

"DON'T SORRY ME! BE A MAN FOR ONCE AND TAKE IT!"

Sorry, coach, I like to be on top...lol!

"Okay then, coach," I mumbled as I stuffed my paws into the dirty track pants that I'd been wearing since...hmm...guess since...morning yesterday? Maybe that was why the stink in the office was even worse than usual.

"I've talked to maintenance and you three will be helping them to replant the flowerbeds," the coach continued, "but that's not enough. I'm gonna have to put you to community service."

Say whuuuuuuuuut?

"Uh...isn't that what the...uh...the police ought to make us do?" I asked.

"I'M THE POLICE WHEN IT COMES TO THIS TEAM!"

Okay, message cleared.

"Yeah," I said, scratching my muzzle to cover a yawn.

"Towers and Johnson are going to be repainting the stands," Coach Kruger grunted, "And I've got something else for you."

I bet it was the toilets. I swear, it was going to be the toilets.

The coach opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a printed A4 which he then thrust up, paw extended.

"Take it!" he snorted. "Instructions!"

I waddled over just enough to snatch the corner of the piece of paper and then took it in my paw, so that I could look at the messy handout, which included, on a first glance, some text and a somewhat fuzzily printed out map on the bottom. Written over the top was: " AMERICAN RED CROSS EMERGENCY FIRST AID COURSE - BASIC LEVEL"

"What the hell's this?" I rumbled.

"Your goddamn punishment, Caruthers"!" the coach barked. "You're gonna become our new emergency responder!"

"Whut?"

The German Shepherd's ears flicked madly.

"After Jordan graduated, we haven't had a responder on the team itself," he said, "and you goddamn know how many knees and ankles we've busted over the two years you've been on the team, you know that minutes count!"

"But we always call nine one one..." I mumbled.

"Not good enough!"

"But you've always got the bag with the ice packs and tape in it with you, whenever we're practicing..."

"Well guess who's going to be responsible for the bag from now on!" the coach barked out without glee, which was kinda worrying, as was the fact that he was seriously planning to delegate the safety and health of our entire team to...me???

"Coach, can't I just, you know...uh...paint the stands, too?"

He snapped his fingers.

"You're the one who crushed most flowers, you're the one who's gonna get a bigger punishment," he said, "besides, you could really use the extra credit after you failed your Contemporary Society Studies."

Fuck...why did he have to know all about our studies, too...siiiiiiiiiigh...

"So this is uh...what?"

"An emergency first aid course held near the campus, and starting Tuesday next week, and you're going to attend it!" he said, "it's going to be paid from the funds, so you better show up there or you'll be suspended for a month...AT BEST!"

Oh maaaaan...

"AND NO MORE DRINKING BEFORE THE GAME OR YOU'RE OUT OF THE TEAM FOR GOOD!"

"Sure."

"AND YOU'RE BANNED FROM TODAY'S PRACTICE!"

I could've kissed him for that fact. I was about ready to fall down in a comatose state.

"Oh...that sucks," I lied with pouty lips.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY OFFICE, CARUTHERS!"

"Sure, coach," I said, crumpled the paper into my paw, and made a waddle for it.

*

Oh fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

What a boring weekend, what's with no drinking and no friends, since Jeff and Micky were enslaved by Coach Kruger to paint the old stands at the football field, with my roomie gone for the weekend to visit his girlfriend's parents (EWWLOL!) Yep, I didn't drink because knowing Kruger, he'd probably planted secret agents to all nearby bars or maybe bribed the owners to tell if any football team members entered during the no booze curfew he had in effect, or something, ugh. And what's the point of going to a bar if you don't get drunk, anyway?

Well maybe there's something you can do, but it felt like a hassle, so I spent the weekend pulling my pud instead of finding someone to do the pulling for me, and that cheered me up a bit, lol, but not much. The new week was all work and no play, too, with football practice and lectures and homework and what the hell...

...and I got that stupid thing to do for the coach, too, sending me over to that stupid course as a punishment for that stupid flowerbed incident. So what if I had the fattest ass out of the lot and had crushed the biggest area of flowers or something? It's not like I could help being a big bear with a big ass...but it was a nice muscle-butt, pure man-bear and nothing else! Wasn't even gonna tell you to keep your paws away from it...if you thought you could handle it!

Bah...a day full of lectures, and I barely had time to shower a bit and do only maybe 10% of all my homework for tomorrow before it was half past five and I had to run for it...well, no way I was going to run if I didn't have to, I took my car and drove to the address given to me on that crumpled piece of paper by the coach. Lol, I almost turned back and reserved the moment I turned the street corner, because the bell tower of a small church came to view...and looking at the fuzzy printout and address and the GPS, it meant that my destination was a small building next to the church, and it was some kind of a community center...oh God indeed.

I parked my car next to an old red car that looked it belonged to a 80-year-old granny and hurried through the front door before anyone I knew could see me going to such a place. I rushed into a small hall and heard choir music coming from somewhere beyond, and I smelled coffee, and there was an old granny cougar sitting on a bench next to a Jesus poster and knitting what looked like a tentacle warmer for an octopus baby or something...she was possibly the owner of the car outside, I thought, feeling so damn out of place, I'd never been to a place like this since I'd gone to Sunday school when I was a little cub and if that granny was anything of an indication, I was the youngest person here by a 90-year margin.

I walked around the hall a few times, pacing, really, wondering if I was gonna go through the floor or something, while the big clock ticked on the wall and a few other furs appeared, much older than me, except for a bunch of girls who were so young they looked like they were in high school or something. They giggled to each other and began to play around with their phones and sat into a corner looking like they were hanging out in a mall and not in a church activity building where it smelled of old granny and...sauerkraut? Weird.

I was almost ready to call it quits when a door suddenly opened and a fat squirrel marched in, wearing this really strange multi-colored vest around her torso that bulged in a lot of places while she surveyed the sorry lot in the hall.

"Good afternoon everyone!" the squirrel chattered. "I presume you are here for American Red Cross community responder course? Come on right in here, we're gonna have a roll call and see about your payments and we're going to cover some few basic things about the course!"

Everyone rushed into the small room, which had chairs piled next to the walls to make some space in the middle, and there was a projection screen with a laptop and a video projector next to it (yay, movies!) and strange boxes filled with rolls of bandages and kinky rubber gloves and a big pile of those scary plastic torsos with no fur on them you sometimes saw on TV and which were used for maw to maw resuscitation training, I knew as much, and didn't really want to French one of those weird alien dummies any time soon.

It took a damn long time, everyone piling money or checks to the squirrel, including me, who showed her a note I'd gotten from coach Kruger so that I could show it to whoever was the boss around here, and that must've been the squirrel, because when she took the paper, she smiled...a lot....

"Yes, yes, that's good! Always glad to have furs from the university take part in our courses, oh yes!"

She sounded almost too happy..dunno, maybe she was one of those cougars who liked young bear beef...sorry, didn't go for squirrels...or vaginas to begin with...tadah...ugh...

"Let's all take chairs and I'll show you a small video first, alright!" the squirrel screeched.

I wondered what we were going to watch, home movies, maybe, or an episode of ER or something, I wasn't sure, but I got my ass onto a chair designed for a much smaller fur and expected to be bored for a bit.

I wasn't, exactly. It was a shaky, grainy video, possibly filmed by the squirrel herself, showing destroyed houses, toppled trees, debris-covered streets, broken windows and furs wandering around like zombies, as if they were looking for something...anything, in the middle of this Walking Dead scenario around them.

"...thousands of homes were destroyed by hurricane Katrina, flooding most of the City of New Orleans, leaving thousands of furs homeless, without clean water or medical care..."

Well, it was missing a sad violin music soundtrack, but...it really was kinda disturbing...I mean, I'd seen a few hurricanes but they'd never made much damage around where I lived, thankfully...but looking at this...I mean, the classic images of mothers clutching their babies, of furs trying to clean up their ruined homes...couldn't really make any jokes about that, could you?

Everyone was pretty quiet when the video ended, the lights were turned on, and I could see a few of the old women wiping their eyes...awww...

"And that's where I was, eight years ago, as a Red Cross emergency responder," the squirrel told us, "and this vest was made to me by some of the local women as a thank you for the help me and my team provided for them, when almost everything had been wiped out. They made it with their own paws as a token of appreciation for the help I gave to them...and I hope that with this course, you'll learn to give something to your own communities, your own families, children...team mates..."

Damn...she was definitely talking about me, since she was smiling and looking at me, too...I almost felt self-conscious...but thankfully she went on rambling some more, then, and didn't pay more attention to me. I might've been an All-American football jock, but still, I didn't like being the poster boy or a wet dream of some random middle-aged furs.

The squirrel, whom by now was identified as Mrs. Pale, went on to tell about the gruesome injuries we were going to learn to deal with during the course. She was talking about being stabbed to the stomach when there was a knock on the door.

"COME ON IN!" she yelled in a true sitcom voice.

The door opened and first, a wolf girl appeared, probably good-looking if you knew how to look, followed by this slinky smirking otter wearing shorts and some random band T-shirt, and I realized that there had to be some seriously exotic blood there, for he sported some nasty-looking canines protruding over his grinning lips.

"Hello!" the otter yelped. "Is this the first aid course?"

"Why it sure is!" the squirrel said. "You want to join up?"

"Yes, we already signed up on the web," the otter said, his tail mixing the air behind him as he walked into the room, that wolf girl dragged behind him with his paw in her paw...eww..., "Sanders and Mikkelsen."

"Hope we're not too late!" the wolf girl chimed.

"You only missed half an hour of me talking about myself," the squirrel responded, "take a seat and listen up when we go through the rest of the course plan, and we can talk about your course enrollment after we finish, alright?"

"Fine by me!" the otter grinned. "Come on, pretty, let's grab some chairs!"

Ugh...love birds...I shook my head quietly and avoided their gaze once they walked past me sitting there on the back, out of the way. I hoped those two weren't going to start acting embarrassingly...even worse than the three young girls who were from...4H or something...facepalm...

"...right...stab wounds to the chest and the stomach area...we'll learn to make special bandages for those..." the squirrel continued without missing a beat, and flicking out a new gruesome photo onto the screen.

*

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