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Today, Harvey wanted nothing to do with the cat sitting in front of him.

"It's an uncommon condition, usually found inherent amongst other relatives, though it has been known to be caused by mutation." Doctor's offices were interesting. One would rarely see them for an average person, so long as your health was good and nothing out of the ordinary happened. In fact, you spend up to decades seldom visiting these curious places of medical disarray and distractions. Harvey looked about him and glanced across the poster-splattered walls, reading from one that displayed the body's anatomy to another which called for sun protection during the summer holidays, making it roughly a few months out of date. "Do you know of any relatives in your family who are afflicted by the condition...?"

Harvey roused himself, bringing his attention back to the patient and somewhat morose Ragdoll doctor who was going over his test results.

"Uh... My grandma, I think."

"Right, well, it's safe to assume that this is where it's come from, and not a mutation." She smiled. Harvey didn't like that. He wasn't in the mood for smiling, though he knew why she was. No more tests. This was probably the first positive answer to the question that had been plaguing him for months, so it was probably nice to her to finally wash her hands clean of him, "Not to worry though, there are treatments available, but sadly no cure due to its nature."

That's what stung the most. There is no cure. Four petty words that could screw you over so badly that you'd be feeling it for the rest of your life. There is no cure. Not enough to kill you, but not mild enough to be taken easily. There is no cure. Stuck then, by any bet, with this new constant and forced to endure. Harvey didn't pay much heed. He was more interested with the distractions than to fully take into account this information. She had leaflets on her desk, the doctor - some booklets on dermatology or something like that. Skin and fur related stuff. He really hoped she wouldn't give him any. He didn't want to feel like some customer who now had just paid in to his new timeshare of fucked up health.

"Would it be anything different to what I'm on now?"

"Not really, we're just going to try some stronger steroids and other topical creams. We'll gradually work out what's best for you and change it as and when necessary." Harvey wasn't impressed; not only did it mean more never-ending months of trial and error, but it also meant return trips, perhaps on a regular basis. What better way to make him feel normal than to mandate he make visits to the hospital rather than let him just try and get on with things. He sighed, inwardly of course - he couldn't show weakness to a stranger regardless of her profession - and he nodded. He made all the right noises that she wanted to hear, because that's what adults did, isn't it? They just agree with what the expert says and carry on as best they can. Harvey didn't believe for one second that he was getting the best opinion out there, but frankly he was tired of all the prodding and poking, and the routine trips and dipping out of university made his life a living hell. He just wanted it all to stop.

The dog was handed a slip of green paper with scrawled handwriting scribbled across it. A prescription, for something or other, turning it over within his paws to deem its worth; he thanked her for them and she went to open the door for him,

"Let's hope we can get this under control, alright?" She seemed optimistic, but then again that might just be the bedside manner talking. Harvey had been to see her so many times now within the past year that he might as well have known her first name, the name of her kids, and how her aerobic classes are going and if she's lost the baby weight.

He nodded once more, just politely finishing the conversation as he left the office, walking out onto the grim factory floor that the nurses watched over. Not many furs occupied the waiting room, perhaps just the odd elderly lion and what looked to be his wife in the corner, but empty everywhere else. Still, the Golden Retriever put back on his cap, smoothing out the head fur so that it covered the scabbing patches. People or no people, he couldn't let them see.

He knew his mother was waiting to take him home, just outside in the corridor as he had refused to let her in. Harvey did love his mum, but there were points about her where she grew intolerable; unceasing to the extent where he'd actively take measures to avoid any confrontation with her. His health, and anything surrounding that topic of conversation, had become just such an issue. In his mind, he knew she meant well, and it was rational of her to try and help her son, but in many ways she would just get in the way, aggravate him with menial questions or unhelpful suggestions. Harvey had always stood firm by the belief that he knew his own body better than anybody else, therefore it made him the resident physician with what worked and what didn't. She however believed she somehow had a say in it, as though giving birth to him invoked some unwritten rule of motherhood.

Exiting out into the hallway, he found her there, leant against the way with a coat folded over cross arms. She stood up properly when he came out, and immediately he recognised the expression on her face: eager-pity. An odd combination, but it was best way he could describe it to himself. Eagerly there, ready to dish out a spoonful of pity. She was very much identical to Harvey in appearance. Both had stout figures, with a reasonable proportion between torso and legs, making out to be a very average shape. They had, at one point, boasted the same shiny coat of rich, glossy fur. It was a breed perk for Golden Retrievers, whom were vainly proud of their coats. It made them excellent models for cosmetic companies, something which Harvey's mum had told him at some point in his life. That with a glorious coat like hers, he could always do some modelling on the side to make ends meet were it necessary. Apparently he was quite a pleasant looking lad, but he never saw it. He certainly would never see it now.

"Well?" She said with her face lit up in readied disappointment, "What did the doctor say?"

"She says it's something called 'turpisis', and it's some genetic mutation," Harvey explained, his eyes trailing across the gloomy corridor of the hospital's dermatology wing, "She said it's also incurable."

"Harve... I'm sorry."

"Save it, I already know." She seemed affronted by the coldness in his voice, but he was in no mood for it today - especially not today. He lifted up and wafted the green slip, making some excuse, "We need to go fill this out."

She said nothing more, but the dog knew in his mind that there was plenty she wanted to say. He knew she believed she was right, as she did about most things, and on most things he'd agree and concede that she knew better. But not this time around. Harvey looked out of the window as they walked off, glancing out into the murky streaks of rain as it pattered against foggy glass. He fixed his cap, shifting uncomfortably before catching up to his mum who had already begun to stride off.

He knew better.

~ ~ ~

Today Harvey had decided it was time.

He'd been putting it off long enough, but with a grip of fear he'd woken up in the morning set with steely determination. He'd spent the night lying awake for the most part, well into the early morning stricken with the debilitating conflict of the internal struggle within him. It had such a complex argument, to either say or to keep quiet.

To keep quiet seemed to most obviously beneficial solution. It provided the only certain answers in the debate, and left Harvey feeling saddened but sure of himself that nothing bad could happen. To keep quiet meant to carry on in peace, or at least the vestige of peace he could maintain. Silence wouldn't provoke anyone, nor would it antagonise some secretly smothered feelings of resentment. Sure, he'd tested the waters with his friends, gauged their reactions, but he knew deep down that regardless of the precautions he took it could still blow back up in his face.

It led him onto the cause for speaking out. To make the announcement, whilst pretentious in his head, would alleviate so much of the lies he'd been living. All the instances of insulted refusal, the adamant rejection of offensive claims or quips, would be just wiped clean and he could finally be who he wanted to be. But speaking out brought out provocation, an unfriendly reaction that might spike with his friends or those even closer to him, and he did truthfully fear it. Those beyond his social group were fine; if they wished to hate him, then they could do so. But his friends and family were all that he had. To lose them would not just be a tragedy, but it would crush him. It was possibly going to be the biggest risk he'd ever taken in his life, but if he didn't take it now, then when? Sooner or later, the gamble would be inevitable. He couldn't just lead a lie for the rest of his life to evade that core element to his being.

This was why he'd set himself the task of today, to speak out finally after years. His resolution was to do it today, or not to do it at all as he'd never work up the courage again.

Harvey got up and out of bed, stretching his limbs with a satisfying pop and crack as bones snapped themselves into place, letting him feel that gentle ache of morning's grasp slowly let go of him as he roused himself. Idly, he scratched the top of his head, his claws finding the indents and balding patches quickly with practised precision. He knew where the majority were now, the scabs healing over from where he'd scraped incessantly to the point of drawing blood. Then he'd been forced to stop as he was no longer getting rid of an itch but digging into his scalp. Even then, with the pain, it was hard to resist the urge. He glanced down at his pillow and noted the speckled red dribbles that dotted its surface coated with a fair number of clumped dog hair, the crimson having dried up into an odd shade of grungy orange around the edges. The signs of dried blood; he sighed and wondered which spots were new from last night amongst those already there from nights previous.

The dog lifted himself up, heaving upon his arms until he rose and stood upright. His room was cluttered. Well, that's how he would have put it, and an 'organised chaos' was maybe a stretch too far even for him to agree. But it wasn't tidy; all assortments of junk, books, sheets of strewn paper, empty cardboard, crap that wasn't even his, all of it filled the room until near bursting. There was the main corridor which had been cleared for ease of access, going from door, to bed, to computer, but aside from that you couldn't turn this way or that without being faced with some mess. Harvey told himself he'd someday get round to doing it, but he knew his resolve was weak. The paper bag, still sealed up tightly, that sat on his desk declaring some saintly name was proof enough of that.

He headed for the bathroom, making sure to check the coast was clear before he walked the short distance from his door. He wasn't so much a prude, more that he didn't want people to see him. The ebbing of self-consciousness had begun to creep upon his mind, and whilst he did his best to ignore the irrational side of his emotions, he still played victim to its bouts.

Making sure to lock the door behind him, he stole a few precious seconds to glance at himself in the mirror. Without his cap, one could properly see the extent to the damage that his genes had done to his head. Though faint through covered up fur, when Harvey parted to reveal the glistening scabs or red and black beneath it made him queasy. Tentatively, he pushed a digit lightly upon the wetness, testing the pain and being rewarded with an uneasy ache that shot across his scalp. For most people, when their body turns against them it's usually in the form of some operable tumour, a cancerous lump that can be cut out if they're lucky. Rarely did it affect the aesthetics. But Harvey sighed, knowing that comparing what he had to cancer was wildly inappropriate. He drew his paw away, looking to his tips to check for the smudges of blood, and in his palm were strands of fur. Normally this was of no concern to him. Animals malted from time to time, but typically in seasons, so he wasn't by any means startled he was losing fur, but it was the timing... Malting season, at least for his family, wasn't for another few months, yet here he was shedding it at a regular rate. He knew why, but he refused to accept it. It wasn't turpisis, it was just some bad infection. It'd clear up.

There was no point dallying about on minor issues today, though. Harvey had set his sights and if he didn't stick to them then he doubted he ever would. The plan had been laid out, plotted to the degree of how he best thought to deal with the situation he now faced. He freshened himself up, sorting out his head fur properly to disguise the balding spots of grotesque wounds, and found himself some clothes from his room.

Gingerly, he picked up the cap that was slung off the post of his bed, and he examined it carefully between his paws. It wasn't anything special, by any means; it was just some generic Yankee cap that he'd been given long ago and never sought to wear it since, at least not until recently. He looked about its inside seams and noticed the tiniest of smudges, vague and faded redness that was almost indiscernible. It wasn't fair, by any means, but the cap at least provided him with some comfort of normality. So long as he wore it, he could pretend he was still just like everybody else. There was nothing wrong with him.

He put it on, fixing it to look right in the mirror and covered his head to every angle, then smoothed out his clothes. He looked over to his desk, ignoring the paper bag and focusing instead on the sealed envelope that sat upon his keyboard. This letter, addressed to his mother, explained it all. From his feelings, to his confessions, all the way to his apologies and miseries; he had tried to be as concise as he could, but he had still ended up writing a great deal. It had been hard, impossibly so, to even finish it. Plainly, he would have admitted to pouring his life and soul into it and meant it. He stood there just staring at it, silent and unmoving. In his head he was still arguing, still procrastinating, and still delaying, all trying to push it off. But that tiny part of him was determined, even if it was only small it still had its merit of logic. He could do this now, or he could do it later when he's put himself into so much doubt already. There was no other way, but still he held on in case a surge of cowardice came over him. Nothing came.

Dejectedly, he snatched up the letter and headed out, downstairs and towards the front door, ignoring the presence of his mum in the kitchen. This was part of the plan, and now all he had to do was to make sure things ran like clockwork. He prepared himself, grabbing his coat, putting on his shoes, checking he had everything from keys to his phone, checking them all off in his head. He stood there even longer still; desperately wishing so divine intervention would smite the paper from his hands and have him leave it until another day. But nothing happened, not that he was surprised. He bit his lip and held back a whimper.

"Mum, there's a letter here for you!" He called out aloud, finally biting the bullet as he tossed the envelope onto the side and zipping out the door as fast as he could. He didn't even wait around for a response; he didn't think that far ahead. The main goal now was to run. To run as fast as he could to the café in town, and to wait it out there for what could be the worst storm he's ever had to face with his mum. His heart was pounding, hammering against his chest as though it itself was petrified and wanted out. He couldn't blame it. Harvey was wracked with nerves, so much so that when he finally ran out of breath and had to slow to a stagger, his knees shook and his legs trembled. He couldn't contain the panic. His shortness of breath and rising bile made him hack and wheeze hungrily for air as he felt like the world might just melt around him. Things were, for the most part, out of his paws. There was nothing he could do now but wait for the impending response to the letter. In his head, he could imagine it so vividly. Her, opening the letter with perplexed eyes, taking out this neatly folded up paper... She would read it, her eyes flitting across the page, perhaps she might cry, shriek maybe, panic, grow angry, depressed, saddened, disappointed... cold even... She could turn into some monstrosity from the woman Harvey had grown up knowing as his sole source of guidance. His father had always been an aloof figure in his life, even vague and invisible in most senses, so he wasn't so much fearful of his reaction as he was of his mum's.

Religion played an important part to. Harvey couldn't help but mull over the contentions he held now with her faith. As he walked, his mind cast back to all those Sundays he spent stuck in a stuffy church, surrounded by people who didn't know yet they seemed to know him. He recalled all the times he'd been forced to sing, not just with the congregation but ushered into the choir despite loathing the pastime and being frankly terrible at it. Bitterly, he recounted how he felt badgered into believing, claiming to trust and serve this deity. To him, back then, it felt like he had no choice. He was given it, certainly, he was offered the opportunity to turn away or to carry on, and with circumstances in mind he carried on, for the good of his family. Harvey hated himself for that. To this day, he regretted that decision, because now he was hinged upon this sanctity of the holy word, that he could never speak against it as though it was above even the law to him. Now he would go day to day dodging this unmentionable question of whether or not he was allowed to leave his faith. He had tried to, but each time she had fallen belligerent. Her own faith and worship shaped many of her morals, including that of her perspectives. Hence why Harvey feared her reaction most of all because it could be the most radical one amongst them, and if it went badly, too badly to salvage, then he was certain his life might as well be shattered into a thousand tiny pieces beyond repair.

The café was within sights, and so were the group of friends that had gathered there for him at his request. This was the second part of the overall scheme at work. Now came the slightly harder part, if only in the short term. The gathering noticed him as he approached, and riled up by rumours and hints as to what was going on, they pestered the Retriever for reasons as to the sudden meeting. It was very unusual even for more than half a dozen friends to meet up outside university, for such a large mass it was above even that of questionable normality.

He sucked in a breath of regretted determination and walked towards them.

Harvey wasn't aware of how long it took him to finally say the words. He wasn't sure how many words it took. With the letter, he knew the phrasing by heart, each comma and full stop, every paragraph etched into his mind. But for his friends he went at it with a hacksaw, going straight for the kill and then leaving them to have him fill in the gaps. It was a sobering experience, one that Harvey knew he wouldn't forget easily. He'd lived a comfortable life - part of him even acknowledged it had been somewhat sheltered - so to be faced with such an instance had terrified him. Dealing with its consequences however was a new mode he'd not predicted.

That being said, he was made known to their reactions. Some took it surprisingly neutrally. They were neither bothered nor cared, which if anything the Retriever was happy for. It meant things could carry on as normal, though it did bother him to realise he'd worked himself up into a state only for it all to become pointless. His steely fear would have all been for nothing, had it not been for the select few. They were far lesser than the general crowd, just isolated to the one or two individuals, but it was their reactions that had rattled Harvey most. One of them in particular, Gerald, had been his friend from childhood, and he'd expected the lion to at least understand and accept it. But, just as he had predicted, the cat was more disturbed than he'd imagined. All sorts of huffed curses and mutterings of swears were made, not directly at Harvey himself, but he knew by their colour that they were due to him. It saddened him deeply, to know that even with the simplest of facts he could hurt his friend so much. A second friend, someone who hadn't been as long a friend as Gerald, took a different turn. He was more shocked that they'd been living with this secret buried in the closet for so long without him even knowing. He was more than just perturbed, but wholly mortified. His excuse was that he had known him for so long, yet apparently hadn't known a darn thing about him at all, as it transpired. A third friend, not so much of one than an acquaintance, spoke out, saying it was great that Harvey could now be who he was rather than what they all assumed him to be. He added a smile, nodding towards the dog. It was Edgar, a goat, who was wiry but otherwise a reasonable guy. They all agreed in the round, each saying how they were happy if he was happy. The Golden Retriever felt like he was him for a change, rather than living out a charade.

The fact of the matter was that Harvey liked men. He was gay.

Thankfully, as the broad surprise of it all died down, the dog turned his thoughts once more back to his parents. How would they react? Would they be fine with it or horrified? As they sat about the coffee shop, chatting and talking amongst themselves, Harvey couldn't help but let a shiver of anxiety run down his spine, the only physical hint towards his discomfort. On the inside, in his head, he was in turmoil, his thoughts scrambled and frayed like electrical wiring that sparked and burnt with such intensity that they made themselves worse. Each time he came to one conclusion, his imagination took over, making it a whole magnitude worse. One scenario would develop into the next, causing a chain reaction of panicking dominoes that clinked each other as they went along; over and over, until he had gone from maybe some mild disappointment to being thrown out onto the streets and left to survive amongst the muddy puddles and shady alleys.

For as long as he could, he postponed learning the truth. As much as he wanted to know the reaction, part of him wished to hold onto this insecure but firmly safe enough state. He had no idea of the unknown that would be awaiting him if he went home, but for now, in this cluttered and bustling café, he was himself. There were no looming parents nagging his upon his every move, no foul-smelling creams or lotions he had to rub into his fur - drying it out and having it smell like burnt wood, no sickly tablets to take which made him nauseous. He was just him.

But he was naïve to think that he could delay the inevitable, as he did not have to go home to learn the truth. The truth came to him, in the basic of forms, via text message. When he felt his pocket vibrate as his phone rang out in its digitised tune, he felt his confidence drain away into nothing. His very essence bled out to be replaced by a frightened, blank husk. He could leave it for a while longer... Nothing declared to him that he had to read the message that very instant. He could leave it an hour - perhaps two or maybe even three. Maybe he never had to read it. He could just go home and hope everything returned to normal as though he'd never spoken out in the first place.

Alas... He couldn't. The temptation to know was just too strong, as it clawed and howled within him like a demon possessed. A few friends noticed the change in demeanour, but they left him to it, giving him the privacy to face the revelation alone, on hand to support him if he needed it. Harvey went into his pocket, fumbling around for his mobile until his fingers lit upon it. He drew it out, turning it within his paws and unlocking the screen. There, framed perfectly, was a text from his mother. His finger hovered over the 'Open' button, and he found himself rigid with fear. What if she rejected him? What if this next text ruined the entirety of his life? Could he ever live with that, knowing his own mother, flesh and blood, hated his guts for the reason of whom he wished to sleep and fall in love with?

He pressed the button and opened the message, eyes flicking across the words as they scorched him a path he could never undo.

~ ~ ~

Today had been a very trying day for Harvey.

His classes had, despite his usual interest, dragged on to the point where even he had begun to drift in and out of reality. His mind wandered easily when not intrigued or roused. Poor lessons made for poor days where the Golden Retriever spent the hours mulling over the circumstance as to where he was. Now attending prestigious university, demanding before he had already even set his bags down that he attained only the highest grades or else he'd be kicked out. He'd nevertheless made himself comfortable, settling in for the long haul as though he were a marathon trainer. It was by no means any simple walk in the park; each day was gruelling, though whilst he may be stuck behind a desk for a good portion of his classes, outside of the lecture halls he was expected to slave away at books and essays, refining the knowledge he must have somehow slogged away from the lessons and developed into reasoned thought. Little time was his. All of it was poured and churned into a few more ounces of grey matter, stored as memories and ready to await the next exam.

But when lessons bored him on like they had done today, Harvey loved nothing more than just going home and relaxing. He could flop onto his bed, turn up the music, and finally just ease himself away for a blissful while until the call of homework would become too great a stress. Still, it was something nice to look forward to.

Today though was going to be different.

His parents were away on a couple's retreat holiday into the country, and so the Retriever had the home to himself for the weekend. This was a rare instance, as normally he'd never have the house all to himself for any longer than an hour at most; his parents, either of them, were always in at some point. It made any private time difficult. There was no lock on his door, and his parents had a tactile inelegance when it came to disrupting his affairs from within his bedroom. Even simple gatherings of friends could be often interrupted by a barging mother who wanted to check if everyone was alright, or a father who'd suddenly decided that he wanted to clean there and then with the vacuum cleaner.

Not only did he have an empty house, but the dog had an unusual offer.

It had come from the day he'd come out officially to everyone he knew. His parents, whilst unaccustomed to the idea, had attempted to accept it to the best of their ability, though they knew somewhere down the lines hurdles would be raised. They'd concluded that they would tackle those as they got to them. His friends, whilst unanimously supportive ultimately, had produced something interesting though. One friend in particular stood out, who had come to Harvey later once many had drifted off back home after the calamity died down and the novelty having left hours before.

Edgar had remained behind, clearly lingering but without voicing his reasons why. It was only until the two of them remained. Sitting with cold dregs of coffee in abandoned cups, they had carried on in silence until Edgar reiterated his statement about him being cool that Harvey was gay. Harvey had remembered thanking him, though warily as it seemed such an odd thing to do at the time. Did he really need to thank someone for being okay with him as a person? Surely that should have been a given mood regardless of his sexuality. But, in any case, he was happy to know that at least some people were going to lengths to make him feel accepted.

But the goat had, at the time, different things on his mind. Harvey remembered in his mind Edgar stifling a sigh as he blurted out that he might be bisexual. This, to the dog, had not come quite so much as a shock. He'd known the goat, since attending the university, to be somewhat of a misogynist. He was always making some crude comment about women, slandering them down or delivering a poorly conceived joke about them and the kitchen. To be honest, Harvey hadn't found any harm in him. He was just a pitiful sort of guy who was desperate to feel the approving attention of the crowd, and he'd fallen rather obtusely into the niche of derogatory insults. Harvey had frankly assumed that the goat was an awkward sort of metrosexual. Of course he liked women, but his attitude towards them had always been so rudimentary and old fashioned, to the point where the dog believed he would never find himself a girl. But this revelation that he was bisexual - or at the very least curious - made greater sense of the situation. If he was bisexual, or at least had the hidden tendencies towards liking guys, then overcompensation by degrading women became logical. He was attempting to establish himself as a firm male, not just a liberal one who accepted both sides, but as a misogynist. Of course, by doing this he also heightened the chances of anyone easily interpreting it as him having an aversion towards women, thus suggesting he too might be gay, but that was all circumstantial. I think, for him, being bisexual was enough of a challenge to face given he, unlike myself, had had no preparation leading up to this moment.

It was what followed that startled Harvey the most. Edgar, blushing brighter now and refusing to look up at the dog, asked if he maybe wanted to see what sex between two men was like.

Harvey had never been prudish. He had taken a very serious stance to what his moral code was and how he defined it. He took the principles of respect and consideration quite adamantly, but when it came to the concept of a 'first time', he didn't truly acknowledge its merit. Of course, he paid some attention to it being a momentous occasion that sealed the descent from mere adolescence into true manhood and that it should be of some commemorative worth, but he felt that celebration for it was overrated. To save virginity, for him, was a ridiculous notion that stemmed from a culture that obsessed too much upon the purity and sanctity of one's body. Since Harvey had never been religious, he therefore rejected the concept of innocence within adults. It was not circumstance that corrupted the mind, but easy time. Sexual instinct was natural within all creatures.

It was why he had agreed. Awkwardly, granted, but agreed all the same and so the two had set the date for this weekend, for when Harvey's parents would be away and unable to stop them. He was nervous, by all means; he'd read stories online from blogs and forums of how the first time burnt and stung as though fire ruptured through his bowels. Oddly enough, Harvey assumed he was going to be the one receiving. Though Edgar had never said, he had offered to bring condoms, and so unspoken the dog had read that as the goat deciding he'd be the one to make the lay and not him. In fact, the Golden Retriever hadn't even thought about himself topping. The idea seemed so irregular and bizarre to him that he'd dismissed it without much thought. Though, in retrospect, he did consider the possibility that Edgar wouldn't have the gall to take the pain of initial entry. It would only therefore work out if one of them took the plunge, something which Harvey was quite willing to do.

So now he stood, half-naked before his bathroom mirror as he looked upon his form and wondered why on Earth Edgar had chosen him of all people to be his first. Commemoration was overrated to its degrees, but even he, a diseased dog, was no match for a first choice. He looked in the mirror and saw the gaunt figure that was supposed to be him, with weight in all the wrong places that bulged in no attractive manner. His fur was withered, staunched and dry, looking as though he were a common stray having come in off the streets. His eyes were a pallid grey now, made unwell by the soaps he used to maintain some definition to his fur and flesh beneath. The nose too that twitched at the end of his muzzle was just as dry as his fur, callous and rough to the touch. He smelt no better that much he knew, for the shampoos he was forced to endure in order to retain some semblance of being stunk to high heavens of rotting wood and burning ash. But even beneath that lingered a heady scent of body odour, something which he hadn't been afflicted by since his youth. The deodorants he might have normally used were too harsh now for such fragile skin, and to shower nowadays was to coax on a whole Hell of agony. His being was an assault to the senses, both to sight, to smell, to touch, and soon to be to taste... He had no idea how Edgar would react to him in this state, but he knew it would not be well. He'd posted pictures online, rather stupidly he knew, but he had to have some context before he faced the goat like this. The results had not been pretty, figuratively and literally. Many online users had cut him off, calling for the cheap horror make up to be taken away and for the site to be taken seriously, others had told him a downright 'no' in answer to the question of whether he looked attractive or not. He had the results scrunched up in the bin beside his desk, but still the words were now etched across his mind. Ugly. Unattractive. Hideous. Disgusting.

But... Edgar was here, sounded out by three polite knocks. However he looked, Harvey knew he'd just have to face this head on and hope that acceptance extended too to the superficialities. He pulled on a long sleeved jumper, making sure the cuffs were pulled well across his paws so as to obscure the entirety of his arm from sight. He hated seeing his fur now. Even if it meant he baked to death beneath a sweater and jeans, then so be it, all to protect his dignity.

He answered the door without trying to show too much nervousness. In his mind, he was frantic, unable to actually comprehend that this was happening.

The door swung wide to reveal the goat standing with his paws thrust into his pockets, his shoulders hunched up as he shuffled about upon the cold porch. He was dressed as he usually did, with bland colours and clothes that appeared a size too big for his frame, creating this drawn out figure. He appeared taller than he actually was, but Harvey knew he came as average as any, perhaps a little taller than himself, but one of the tallest in their small group of friends. He had a sort of soured scowl across his face, as though he'd rather not be here on Harvey's doorstep. But the Retriever stood aside and let the goat in, smiling politely in a vain attempt to warm Edgar's mood.

"Where're we doing this then?" He huffed, somewhat bluntly as he stood there, paws shoved within pockets and hunched over. Clearly this wasn't going to be like any other social visit. The dog sighed, knowing full well what he should have expected.

"Uh.... Upstairs; my room's on the left..."

The goat simply nodded, striding up the flight of stairs as though he were moving about his own home. Harvey just followed distantly, his mind still not fixed on the ordeal. The footsteps were nothing but dulled thuds in his ears as he wandered behind Edgar, the male's rear bouncing in his face as they ascended upwards. Oddly, he wondered in a few short minutes he might only see the real thing bared, but he'd get to touch it. He'd have the right to smell it, feel it caressed beneath his paws, even to taste maybe... Not only that, but anything around the other side. He'd be allowed to touch Edgar, to feel along another male's length - his first male's length - and to stroke it, just like he'd seen plenty others on internet videos do. He could even taste it... What would it taste like? Like he expected? He had no idea, it could be like anything.

What if he ended up hating it? What if he loathed sex with another male once this was through? Could that even happen? As he followed behind Edgar into his relatively tidied room, he swallowed to drown what fears clawed their way through his gut. Behind them lay a trap of knotted anxiety, woven so tightly it became an impossible snag. His stomach did somersaults as the goat sat upon the edge of his bed where a towel had been rolled up and placed at the foot, alongside a bottle of the secret lube he'd bought online. If nothing was obvious now, then there was no denying what was going on. They were here to lose their virginity to one another. Nobody had yet backed down.

Edgar looked about and surveyed the place, as though finding a reason to deem it worthy to be the first room he ever stripped down for another in. His attention was clearly flitting about, but he didn't say anything so much as to draw Harvey into conversation. He was silent, leaving the dog to stand there scratching his forearm. The motive was clear, they both knew that, so he very much wanted to either get this underway or to break the awkward tension that hung between them. Of course, it was their first encounter, what was he to expect except nerves and failures to take the leading foot. It was like a dance between people who lacked the concept of timing, rhythm, or elegance. Maybe the sex would follow suit.

The goat made Harvey start suddenly when he leant back, lying down fully onto the bed and staring at the ceiling. He still refused to say anything; no invitation to join him, no idle chit chat even, just cumbersome silence that filled the gap between them. Harvey huffed quietly to himself, fidgeting upon one paw as he picked at his fur, pretending to be occupied with something. Truth be told, he was finding this frustrating. It was such an indecisive moment. Within him he had even begun to internal debate to just take charge himself. Of course he couldn't in reality, he didn't possess the confidence to do so, nor did he want to risk of jumbling up the signals and overstepping himself. He didn't want to stand on Edgar's hooves.

Harvey was about to say something, anything, to break the quiet, until he noticed that Edgar's paw had snuck down and begun to rub his crotch. It was slight at first, almost unnoticeable were the dog not looking for it specifically, but he was definitely groping his groin. That was a sign, right? If Harvey wasn't sure, then Edgar was about to prove it so,

"Are you coming over or not?"

Harvey didn't need any other word. That was as good as their dirty talk was going to get, and he supposed to himself that he should take it.

The Golden Retriever walked to the edge of the bed and knelt down. Since Edgar took up most of the space, there was no room for him. Instead he awkwardly squatted down; he himself still dressed, and placed a tentative paw over the goat's crotch. It felt soft, almost uncanny to the touch. Still it didn't deter him. It was just the cover, and much like any book, what lay behind mattered the most. His paw reached up for permission to venture further, looking up at the goat's face but finding himself to be greeted with only the rough chin of the male. Harvey would have to act upon intuition and improvisation alone, it seemed. Not that he was bothered. The first hurdle had been crossed at the very least - they'd begun their waltz.

Finding the cool metal button that marked the top of the goat's jeans, Harvey pulled it open. Next he found the jutting tag of the fly, pulling that down too so that the two folds of denim splayed apart like curtains, making the grand entrance of Edgar's bulge. The dog had never seen an actual cock before. Sure, he'd glimpse sightings of other guys' bulges from the changing rooms throughout his adolescent years, but that was as far as he'd gotten. Online pictures and videos were nothing compared to the real thing, he knew that much. The boxers the goat was wearing were a plain green, from the 'Butch' line of underwear. The writing was so boldly printed out along the waistband that Harvey had to laugh at the irony. For such a scrawny, indiscriminate and blunt guy, did Edgar really have the title to wear such briefs? Regardless, the dog hooked a finger over the band and slid them down, combing through coarser pubic fur until he began to reveal the treasure he had yet to handle.

The soft member that jumped free had not been what Harvey was expecting. It was shockingly so much more... unusual than the impression he had in his mind. By no means, he wasn't disappointed - he was in fact pleased he now had the definite article in his sights - but it just seemed so strange. He pulled the waistband down and brought out the goat's sack, that too itself a surprising discovery. He hooked the band beneath Edgar's balls and leant his head back to see all of the glory.

Harvey knew the measurements as he looked now. Part of Edgar's little advance had been to boast about his size. The dog had never thought about whether his first time would be with somebody who was hung, but according to the goat he measured up to be about eight or nine inches, something which, whilst unbelievable, certainly checked out to be impressive. Now that Harvey could see for himself, he knew Edgar hadn't been lying. It was unfair really, as compared to himself, he wielded a monster, despite Edgar having faults and flaws that were too prominent for Harvey to get past and forge a friendship. But, the dog could take some petty amusement in the fact that for all that Edgar made up in his boisterous size, he lacked such volume with his balls. They were small, far smaller than Harvey had actually expected, and so the contrast between lengthy dick and shrunken sack was an unusual sight.

His member was a deep peach colour, throbbing in a sloping arch that Harvey would have assumed to be halfway between full-mast and flaccid. Pre dribbled from the tip but not in vast amounts - certainly nothing compared to what Harvey knew of his own body. It was odd to think he was now only working from two models, himself and Edgar. It came down though to the more important test. As he reached out, moving his paw away from the underwear, Harvey shivered as he marked this as the final moment he was to be declared a virgin. He took a hold of the cock, stroking it gingerly in one paw and giving it an experimental squeeze. It felt fleshier than he imagined, more so in fact. Whilst his could be as rigid as a board, Edgar's was soft and mushy, perhaps because he wasn't fully aroused. It was a novel sensation to the dog, and he carefully rolled his pads along the shaft. Edgar hissed, either out of arousal or discomfort Harvey wouldn't know as he remained relatively silent. He just basked in the feeling of another male holding his junk whilst the dog explored the secret part normally hidden away.

He pulled Edgar's jeans away a little further, to allow him better access. Obligingly, the goat shuffled on his butt to let them slip a little lower, a positive sign that things were going well enough for him to want to carry on. Harvey used his other paw to cup Edgar's balls, cautiously fondling them as he had read about, feeling each individual nut's size in one palm. They were nothing to marvel at, but then again Harvey wasn't sure what he was to find most enjoyable. Preferences, kinks, fetishes... They had all yet to be laid out, but he was at least making the first baby steps into a stumbling waltz.

But nothing could put off what he was to do next. Sure, he might have sufficed the meeting there, leaving them at 'touching' only, and Edgar could have left happily with a hand job, but Harvey had set his sights high. If they were to do this, they'd do it all in one fell swoop or else they'd never do it at all. A chance of being home alone with such prolonged privacy was rarer than rare. He steeled himself, licking his lips to moisten them as that monster's eye stared back up at him, dribbling a tear of milky pre. Harvey leant down to lick that drop up, sampling the taste. It was by no means anything he'd expected - more earthy and sour than salty as people had described. It was watery too, with barely anything to it other than a sticky sensation that cloyed at his throat. Then followed the first attempt to suck another male's cock... It didn't go down well first for Harvey; he foolishly tried his best to take Edgar all in one, right down to the pubes, but his gag reflex kicked in and held him back after the first few inches. He could easily take half of his length without so much of a hitch, but anything further proved a challenge that invoked retching until he pulled back. He settled for those few inches as they were a triumph nonetheless. Bobbing up and down over these few seemed to be enough for the goat as well, as finally his strained pants and soft moans began to filter through his icy shield of a personality.

It was pliable in Harvey's mouth, as though he hadn't so much placed somebody's living appendage into his muzzle, but rather some warm oddly shaped piece of meat. He could now see why they often commented on 'meat' and 'penis' as one and the same; he closed his eyes and continued to savour the taste and touch. It filled his muzzle entirely, leaving little room for the dog to work with his tongue. It was a hard task, as his mind kept flitting between the need to keep his teeth held back to avoid grazing Edgar's sensitive flesh and running his tongue over every inch there was. Often he settled into the routine of maybe swallowing as much of the length he could, taking a little more each time, and then pulling out to slide his lips up and down and along the girth of the shaft. Edgar was making a consistent groan each time now, looking down finally to watch the dog at his work, his eyes following the dog's lips as they suckled and wrapped about his cock. For him, it was his first time receiving a blowjob, and Harvey could only wonder what he felt still with his mouth full of his manhood.

Slowly, though how Harvey did it he would never know, he managed to build himself up to the point where he could take an ample length of Edgar into his maw. His face was wet with tears of straining himself, fending off the reflex to heave the cock back out of him, but he was proud that he'd achieved so much for his first attempt. He could feel Edgar gyrate his hips ever so slightly, an idle paw now snaking and curling through the fur on his head. Harvey flinched when it felt the fingertips passing over the bald patches... Edgar made no comment, but he could feel each digit tap and trace the bald spots with delicacy, as though testing their threat to him. Turpisis wasn't contagious, but it wasn't pleasant. It certainly wasn't attractive, that's what Harvey knew for sure. Nothing was said at that moment, but the dog feared the point where he himself would have to strip down.

Harvey stroked the few inches that remained which he couldn't take, sucking in tandem as Edgar began a pained moan, his body seizing up as though possessed; Harvey wasn't prepared for the sudden spurts of cum. He was, however, underwhelmed by the volume. Edgar's orgasm had been as brief, spontaneous, and lesser than what he'd seen other males go through. He hadn't even so much as given him a warning. All the dog could do was to pull off the quickly softening cock as he licked his lips clean of sticky, thin goat cum. It tasted tangy too; no traces of salt, just a soured tang that managed to pervade his mouth. Edgar seemed unaffected, much to Harvey's irritation, as he folded his arms behind his head to form a pillow. They were still both clothed, relatively speaking, with Harvey sporting himself a sizeable bulge at his crotch and with the goat having his member flopped across his abdomen, staining a faint damp spot of saliva against his shirt.

Reaching yet another barrier of awkward silence, the dog settled back onto his haunches, gazing at the firm but flopped dick that lay across a somewhat partially bare abdomen. Edgar seemed quiet, with his eyes closed as though he were asleep whilst recuperating from his first orgasm. Harvey just subtly touched himself down below, finding nothing else to do but to wait for whatever the goat asked for next. His pants were tented out obscenely to the point where it would be impossible to excuse any bulge; his erection jutted directly out now, causing his pants to strain against the crotch. He shifted uncomfortably as this pressure built and refused to rescind itself, leaving Harvey with a dulling ache that was moving towards a sharp annoyance. He stifled a grunt as his fingers indelicately strayed across where his drooling tip remained buried beneath fabric, a jolt of toe-curling sensations stabbing into his gut. How long do they have to go on like this? It wasn't conventional sex, not even for the first time, but why couldn't they be like everyone else and strip?

Edgar rose up from his lying position, propped up on elbows as he looked down at the dog with blank eyes. He watched Harvey run his fingertips over an obvious pitch, saying nothing nor doing anything. The dog felt a little unnerved as he was so coldly observed for a moment, unsure what the goat wanted but not wanting himself to speak up. He'd read about such elements gay men might exhibit during sex. Some were dominant, forceful and commanding, who took control of the situation and delivered their payload of ferocity, command, and authority before leaving the final deposits of cum. Others, Harvey had found, were submissive, leading them to kneel quite willingly to these greater men and allow them to be used. Whilst reading, he had often envisioned himself at that point of servitude, with some towering male standing above him, leash in hand and cock draped across his nose. However, in contrast to this, he'd also learnt about men who were active and passive respectively. Active men were just that: active. They would initiate, improvise, engage and all round put their whole effort into sex, whilst a passive gentleman would lie back and let whoever do whatever they wanted. Harvey began to think now that maybe Edgar, who showed signs of passiveness, was not the best guy to lose his virginity to. But... Harvey's lust overruled his rationality. Hormones won out over logic. The dog was determined for sex, desperate even to his core that he feared he might outwardly show his need.

This, however, meant Harvey might have to take the lead, as much as he didn't want to.

"Do you want to maybe get naked?" The question came with a heavy pause, something that seemed almost ludicrous to the goat as the kneeling male posed it. It was as though he'd made quite possibly the most absurd and nauseating request given the look Edgar had directed towards the dog. Could it be the condition? Was Edgar so repulsed by the thought of seeing the true him that they'd avoided it this far? These moments were running like tar; thick and sickly, something which Harvey had never imagined happening like this.

But the goat shrugged, nonchalant as though the problem had never existed or crossed his mind. Inwardly Harvey cringed, flinching within himself and wanting to recoil to a foetal ball. There was no doubt about it, the definite signs of second thoughts and disgust. Nothing to get the mood going like the pitying and withering looks of a soon-to-be 'lover' scouring you with judgement.

Harvey watched for a moment, looking to the slightly chubby build of the male as he pulled up his top. There was little development of muscle, but the torso seemed neatly trimmed to give the impression that he was of an average weight. He probably was, knowing the goat's diet and unfairly high metabolism. Harvey whimpered to himself, since he on the other hand boasted no such luck. He knew beneath the fluff of his exterior, what little remained that is, he was bordering the worse kind of weight, where it was no longer cute and teetered threateningly into the dissuasive. Edgar had already thrown aside his boringly branded tee shirt when he'd caught the dog gawping, daydreaming in his own mind.

"Well... what about you?" He asked, perhaps a little tersely for Harvey's opinion, but he was right to say so. The Retriever roused himself from the stupor and rose, shrugging off the hooded jacket he donned and moved to pull off his second jumper. He wore so many layers now it was surprising he even felt the temperature anymore. Come cold or hot, he bundled himself so tightly within long-sleeve clothing that covered him from head to toe. The two jumpers were put aside, hung across the back of his desk chair before the dog moved to take off his own shirt. By now Edgar had stooped down to whip off his boxers and jeans, presenting Harvey with a good full image of him in his entirety.

Whilst he might never have been attracted to the male himself, for their personalities had always clashed, Edgar did hold some remarkable qualities. Forgetting for a moment the endowment he'd been blessed with, Harvey realised the goat hid away a lot more than he let on. His legs were solid, belying not a sense of shapeless fat but rather of someone who was, to some degree, fit. His torso melded well to the rest of his body, so what the dog had taken initially to be weight looked now more to be ordinary and medial. His fur was a delightful shade of cream and beige that complimented each other nicely. All in all, Harvey could have sworn he might have been the kind of guy he'd be happy to settle for, had his charm been more alluring than Edgar's grating and shrewd attitude.

As he straightened up, Harvey shook himself and finished off his own stripping. He wondered, oddly, whether this was their foreplay. A swift, courteous blowjob followed by the worst strip tease - if he could even call it that - ever to have happened. He pulled down his own sweatpants and kicked them off, leaving them both simply standing there in their socks, naked everywhere else. The Golden Retriever finally felt the nip of cool air against his itched skin and through the sparse and scraggy fur. He knew he was a messy sight to behold; it was the reason why he had no full length mirror in his room, or mirror at all for that fact. He dreaded to see the sight of himself. Whatever Edgar must have been thinking as he took in the scene before him, Harvey would never truly know, but his eyes did reveal something. Too much, arguably, but the Retriever was perceptive. It was a look mixed between regret and pity. Two of the worst things Harvey could have seen, but regardless he knew what the goat thought. At the very least there needn't be any lies from now on.

Harvey took a step forward, cautious in all concerns, as he reached across the short gap to kiss the goat. They'd talked extensively about this, discussing what they could and couldn't do. Naturally a lot of the obscene and shudder-worthy kinks had been ruled out, from scat to gore, all across to bondage and pain. Though Harvey would have loved to explore himself and all his darker corners of his lust, he knew that he must settle for vanilla the first time around. There was no point diving in at the deep end when he didn't even understand how to swim. Edgar responded slowly at first, showing wariness himself, but when they'd figured out who was to venture first, they worked in tandem at each other's mouths. Harvey took first call, moving his tongue inside Edgar's and attempting what he thought to be French kissing - whether or not it was the right thing to do, he tried nonetheless, with some success. The goat worked back just as well, pressing his tongue against Harvey's. It was a quaint feeling, having a muscular, wet and lukewarm appendage wiggling and squirming against his. Even as he mulled over it now, it seemed so freakishly clinical and outlandish, yet that was the only way he could acquaint the sensation. Still, he tried his best to enjoy the moment, kissing back as much as Edgar was willing to give. His breath was not pleasant, but it was an easy compromise given his own physical state.

Letting his paws fall gently onto Edgar's hips, Harvey let himself blend into a natural embrace. It seemed fitting to hold the goat like this, but what bothered him the most was Edgar's lack of touch. The other male's paws seemed to be rooted firmly to stroking their cocks together, placing them alongside the other as though they were linked sausages. His paws wrapped about the twinned girth, moving furiously backwards and forwards to simulate jacking off. Harvey didn't feel much except the occasional strike of pleasure as the goat did something right, but he quickly learnt that due to his inexperience, Edgar was only working from his own perspective. He hadn't taken into account that he'd have to go from base to tip so as to cover both their cock heads. But he let the frotting carry on, sighing as he tried to coax a little more confidence from him, even if it did only come it similar dribbles to his own pre. However, it presented a good opportunity for them to compare lengths. What Harvey lacked in his size besides Edgar's he managed to regain for an overall appeal. His stream of pre was far heavier, thicker and more abundant, just as his balls were compared to the goat's own; whilst Edgar seemed to have a tiny sack, the Retriever's nuts were large and delectable. Edgar, it seemed, couldn't keep his hands off them, as though mesmerised by the sheer difference between the pairs. He rolled them about and squeezed gently, testing their firmness. What Edgar also failed to have that Harvey did was the infamous canine knot. It was, for the time being, a mere bulb of sensitive flesh that didn't sport much size, flowing easily into the shaft so as to appear to be a uniform thickness.

Harvey shuffled them about so that he could lower himself onto the bed. He sat on the lip, levelling his head with Edgar's cock again. He took the head between his lips and began a soft suckling, letting the goat's monster rise again to a stronger hardness. Whilst he distracted him with his ministrations on his crotch, he reached behind him, feeling blindly for the rolled up towel and bottle. When his paws fell upon them he grabbed them and haphazardly did his best to lay them out, readying his bedding for him to lie upon for what they were both here for. He grasped Edgar's cock and let it pop free from his mouth, earning him a soft moan of displeasure from the goat above him as he was denied satisfaction once more. Harvey got to work on his balls instead, doing his best to lick and suck them into his muzzle, ignoring the fuzzy fur that dragged across his tongue as he did so. With a free paw he popped the cap to the lube, aiming it precariously at the thickened dick before letting a cool dribble trickle across the length. He snapped the cap shut and began to stroke with slick ease the greasy lube across Edgar's shaft, rubbing it up until the light shone across every inch and until beads of fluid would occasionally splatter down in viscous drops.

"Where do you keep the condoms?"

Harvey broke off from sucking at Edgar's crotch for just a moment to reply, huffing in an exerted voice,

"Nightstand, first draw, beneath my tissues."

He heard the soft slide of wood against wood, a rummage of junk, and then the sound of the familiar crackle of foil. He listened carefully, flicking a drooped ear, as he heard Edgar rip the packet open. He needed no guidance for further instruction as he pinched one end of the rubbery sheath before placing it at his head, rolling it down inexpertly, up until the condom ran out of length and covered the majority of his member. The Retriever pulled off from drooling across the goat's groin, pouring a generous dollop of lube into his palm and then rubbing another layer onto Edgar's manhood. He followed the instructions that had been laid out online - first the lube, then the condom, then more lube to finish off. Finally, he was, in part, ready. Now it was Harvey's turn.

The dog lay back across his badly lain towel, propping his behind up as best he could on a pillow as he leant his legs back. He presented Edgar with his exposed rump, pulling his cheeks apart and revealing his winking hole. His nervous were running riot through him, but he ignored them all gurgling about in his gut as he applied a coating a lube to his rim, pushing inwards with a finger until he was all the way in to the knuckle. He'd practised this, plenty of times within the privacy he could manage to sneak, but it had never gone so well as to achieve a comfortable penetration. Often he'd stop short, feeling that anything more would be too painful for him. The most he'd taken on his best day had been two fingers to the base. By the looks of things, Edgar's size managed to make up more than four, perhaps even five if Harvey could have faced the truth there. He slid on finger in and out, hurriedly trying to make himself looser and more relaxed as Edgar watched on, stroking his length absently so as to maintain an erection. Hastily Harvey added a second finger, biting his bottom lip as he slipped it quickly to the base, letting his muscles unclench and do their best to ease up. Still it was slow going, difficult for the virgin dog as Edgar seemed to grow increasingly impatient as seconds ticked by.

Whimpering, debated between a cry of nerves or one of lust, Harvey took a brave step and pushed in a third finger. This would have been the most he'd taken, if with some difficulty. He felt a flare of pain radiate with a burn through his ass, but he ignored it and battled on. Edgar was going to be so much bigger, but he hoped, desperately hoped, that stories and anecdotes left behind by bottoms far more skilled than he rang true. If they were anything to go by, once they fell into the swing of sex he would begin to feel pleasure just as much as the goat would with his insides gripping his dick tightly.

He attempted to scissor open his hole, stretching it on all three points awkwardly with what strength he could. Though he did not say for Edgar to come on the bed and get ready, the male knelt onto the duvet, his knees just falling on the towel as he squatted back against his calves. He held his prick upright, wanking himself slowly as he watched the dog humiliate himself with this exercise of his hole. There was a subtle lick of his lips, a grunt of pleasure as Harvey put on a show he had never intended to take so long. But it was as good as he was going to get. He was stretched as much as he could.

He pulled his fingers free and wiped them across the towel, sodden with lube. Edgar approached his ass, cupping his cheeks and lifting them up so that he could aim his rod for the opening. There was nothing gentle about his entry; it came hard and fast and with little warning. He squinted his eyes and hung open his jaw as he crammed in the first few inches. Though Harvey's hole greedily gobbled them up, he gasped out in sudden pain and panic. It felt quite literally that nothing more could fit into his behind, that with only a few inches in he was done. His paws groped behind him and scrabbled for the cock that was now lodged quite fixedly into his behind, stroking the rest of his length. Harvey's own hardness had long since waned, and now his cock lay soft across his stomach as this truncheon tried to fuck him. His mood was smothered now with dressings of fiery discomfort. But Edgar was the stronger of the two of them, even if he was passive at first. He ignored Harvey's futile pleas to pull it out and began a slow fucking motion, drawing out a few inches before sliding it back in. It might have only been a small amount, but to Harvey it felt like sandpaper was being scraped along his guts. Of course, with each push and shove, the movement became smoother and the irritation lessened, but the pleasure had yet to come. He lay back, grunting through gritted teeth as he let the goat persevere, seeing where the route would take them both if they just gave it time. After all, it was their first go, so he could hardly have expected bliss right from the first touches of that cock head against his prostate.

It wasn't only until Harvey felt the coarse and dripping pubic fur of Edgar's crotch did he realise he'd taken the full length. They stopped for a moment, panting at one another as the goat's lap was mashed against the dog's cheeks, symbolising a complete and full penetration. The Retriever was marvelled at his ability to take such a large member, laughing inside at the predicament but revelling in the accomplishment. He'd finally taken a cock, a real cock, and with success. He could feel a heady pulse resonating from Edgar's pecker throughout his abdomen, and he felt himself begin to stir in his loins again. Doggedly he let his paws stroke and grope along his cock, feeling himself up as he attempted to rouse out an erection. Edgar began to pull out, pushing in when he reached the head and repeated. He set himself a steady pace, but his haggard breathing suggested that no matter what the pace he set there was no way he could hold himself off. From penetration to fucking, he was already at his limit whilst Harvey hadn't even begun to spot his on the horizon. Looking up at the straining male's face, he watched as he saw heavenly pleasure take over. Though it was vindicating to see his body giving another so much happiness, it was a sour and hollow prospect considering he wouldn't be able to feel anything reciprocal.

Edgar pulled out a little too much, and the tightness of Harvey's hole squeezed his member out with a drawn slurp. He gasped, just as the dog yelped from the sudden empty feeling. The goat was quick to attempt to re-enter, but each time he tried his cock would slip, sliding uselessly up and below through the Retriever's cleft. There was little purchase now with the lube having soaked through and smattered their crotches.

Harvey moved over, getting onto all fours on the bed so that Edgar would have a better time accessing his hole. His cock hung limp between his legs as the goat once more lined up his tool and pushed brutally inside. The dog moaned and grasped as something deep within him was struck, making his cock twitch and seep a generous amount of pre. He shuddered again when Edgar managed to strike the same spot twice; it must have been his prostate, if the knowledge he'd learnt was true enough. He begged Edgar to fuck him harder, but it was a moot point. Without even holding onto Harvey's hips, not even so much as touching him, he bleated wildly, showing a more feral side that the dog hadn't witnessed before, followed by him ploughing in deep one last time. He crashed in, balls to balls, and humped those few inches left as he came. Harvey could feel the swell of the condom, the surge inside him and across his rim. It all lasted for a few brief seconds, but he knew that this moment, etched in his memory, seemed to last forever until he pulled out, leaving his hole agape and lewdly drooling with lube.

He sat back and glanced around, just as Harvey fell to the bed, his arms aching and blue-balled, deciding to speak up in a belligerent tone,

"Where can I clean up?"

This was supposed to be memorable and enjoyable. All Harvey could think of now was how much he regretted his decision - he had been so fleetingly careless with his innocence.

~ ~ ~

Today would be the day... the final day.

As the water shut off with a heavy clunk, Harvey stood there for a moment, shivering in the bare bulb's light as the shower came to a stop. He dripped in the bath tub, looking gormlessly ahead with a bitter and sorrowful expression as he simply stared. If he had seen his reflection, he might have described his eyes as dead, for that's how he truly felt. It wouldn't be long now until he would be curled up on the floor, clawing at his body as pain wracked him all over.

He pulled the curtain aside and stepped out onto a cold tile floor, puddles of water dripping where he placed his footpaws. He staggered for a moment until he stood before the only mirror in the house he was forced to look into, one that hung above the sink. Normally, he could tolerate taking in the sight of himself, but lately it had become repulsive. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was still him, behind it all, regardless of the turpisis, it did no good. Staring back at him was not Harvey, but a different face. It was Ugly.

Ugly was a malevolent character, who had a hideous sneer to their face that was by no means intentional. The skin and fur had fallen in such a way that bared the scarring marks of what looked to be a disgusting grimace. Saddened eyes were covered by the strands of blood that reached down in forgetful tentacles across their scalp, so any emotion normally seen was smashed to pieces by Ugly's doing. Ugly didn't stop there though. Ugly took a step back and took in the full image, paws gingerly brushing across the expanse of mottled, raw flesh where the fur had fallen out. Only patches remained now, dotted sparsely about, clumps of fur that still held on as though determined not to let go to the last vestige of Harvey. But Ugly had lost the pride of their coat. Ugly had lost pride in itself, leaving behind a venomous hole that wept sickly puss of bleeding red. If they so much as even scratched with a light claw, the skin would pierce and puncture, trailing down in welting crimson. Of course, any scratching would lead to more itches, unreachable, unquenchable, wild and ferocious that then festered and spread beneath the skin, flaring out like a disease would, turning the very core to a rotten mouldy pulp. His body was left a battleground of where the condition had run rampant. Turpisis had won. It had withered his body down and whittled it to nothing but the shaking remains that still stood. The Golden Retriever collapsed to the floor, sniffling as he tried desperately to fight back. Ugly was strong though and wasn't about to be defeated so easily. Ugly had made his fur wilt and become straggled, like dry grass, and it had left him with nothing but shreds. His skin wasn't even a natural colour anymore, reduced to the blotchy, sickly vile plum. Scabs and scars covered a great deal of his body, focused upon his back and limbs, and some across his stomach.

Ugly knew that nobody like them. Edgar had been proof of that. He had refused to touch Ugly. He had come, desperate much like Ugly had been, and he had gotten what he wanted and left without so much as sticking around, or returning the favour. Ugly hadn't been as strong back then, but Ugly had seen and Ugly knew. Ugly had pathetically sprayed their cum everywhere, crying as they did so because they were so ashamed of themselves. Ugly couldn't help it. According to the doctors it was genetic. There was nothing that could be done. It was only a matter of time before Harvey fell away, peeling off in the scabs of skin and fur to reveal Ugly, and the monstrosity that lay beneath, lying in wait. Ugly had taken hold, and Ugly had turned Harvey into nothing but a cowering afterthought. Ugly made Harvey dress the way he did, covering himself up in jumpers and jackets, jeans and sweatpants so that nobody could see the Ugly that lay hidden. He would gladly have boiled to death and suffered heat stroke so that he could spare people the sight of Ugly. Ugly would rear their heads at anybody, making them back off, call Harvey names, abuse him for his heinousness. But nothing Harvey did could get rid of Ugly. Just like the doctors said, there is no cure. Ugly was bound to him forever, no matter how hard he smothered them.

Ugly liked to say hello whenever it could, however, more so now than any other time, just as Harvey finished off showering, sometimes standing beneath the searing hot spray for up to an hour at a time just to put off meeting Ugly for a little longer. Ugly was here now though, waiting in the mirror to show Harvey how his life was in tattered ruins, much like his body was.

"Look at you," Ugly would say, his lips moving in synchronisation with Harvey's, "Look at how revolting you are... You're a corpse. No... You're worse than a corpse. At least a corpse has the dignity to die and decompose underground. You walk amongst everyone else as though you're perfectly fine."

"I am fine..." Harvey would whimper, quietly to himself as his fears got the better of him. Ugly snarled, snapping and scalding him,

"Really?! You're still sticking by your denial?" Ugly made Harvey look up, setting his reflection dead in the centre of his sight, "Look at yourself... Do you really think you're fine? What about Edgar then? Why wouldn't he hold you? Touch you whilst you had sex, why did he look at you the way he did with banger's remorse?" Harvey fought back the tears, biting his lip and speaking with indignation,

"It was our first time! A mistake... He was just inexperienced..."

"He seemed to know what he was doing, at least," Ugly retorted, reaching up with Harvey's right paw and clawing along his chest. Streaks of reddened lines spread across his torso, "You know, it's not even the genetics that are to blame. You are. You're fat, you've got a face that'll make kids, and you're about as adept at socialising as you are with losing weight." Ugly dug the claws in, making Harvey yelp and whine in agony. The fire was roaring intolerably now, jarring through his skin as the urge to scratch right down to the bone burned through him, "You're a joke; a pathetic joke. All the bullies agree, your family thinks so too. Why do you bother to bear through such pain only to come out the other end with people all laughing at you and treating you like diseased filth?"

"It doesn't have to be this way..." Harvey was crying, tears streaming down his face as Ugly no longer had to move his paws for him. They scratched and cut and itched all across his body, raking up skin with his claws and dirtying them with speckles of blood. He couldn't bear any of it, and Ugly was right. What was the point of it all? Why bother enduring if you just come out the other side of a bleak night only to be mocked, insulted, and degraded during the daylight. What sanctuary was there when the nights were filled with blood-stained sheets and unimaginable pain, only to wake the next day to a storm of humiliation, mockery and rejection?

"You know it does... There's only one solution. You know that. Ultimately, there's only one true way to stop the pain."

Harvey looked up, his voice hoarse from the screaming and howling, watery eyes unable to quite make out the bottle, but he knew well enough what it was. He reached up from where he lay scrunched up on the floor, shivering in the cold as he froze slowly, plucking the bottle from the counter. It rattled within its hollowed confines, and he ran a bloody thumb across the label.

"Do it..." Ugly hissed, leaning in his ear, shrieking in his head, "Fucking do it..."

Harvey slowly, sobbing quietly, popped the cap off and emptied several tablets onto his palm. He fingered the brightly coloured pods, rolling them about as he hung on to those final moments he'd have to endure the pain, resulting in the inevitable.

"Do it!"

Harvey lifted his paw to his mouth and shoved the pills inside.

Today was the final day of pain.

~ ~ ~

Today was a good day.

Harvey walked along with a sense of pride in himself. With his final exams over, university was finally coming to an end. The stress and anxiety was all over, and now it was out into the real world where he could finally take a shot at being himself. Nothing filled him with more happiness than that single thought of being an independent and educated adult. No longer could he be classed rather lazily as a young adult, but now he could be regarded as the genuine article with no complaints or protests.

Now began a long summer, marked perhaps by a period of celebration amongst him and his friends as they let loose the pent up steam that had accumulated during the last few trying months. He would hope to think they had something momentous planned to mark the occasion, like a holiday abroad or some boozer trip across the country. Of course, he could only wait until he was told.

It was decidedly hot today too, but rather than let himself sweat to death with his jacket on, Harvey shrugged it off and bundled it into his bag. He let the cool breeze ruffle through the fur on his arms, his paws rubbing through the luscious pelt as he revelled in the relief. The drugs had worked a treat; he thought absently, some miraculous treatment that had pulled through for him at the last minute. He was frightened to think he'd been so close to ending it, to making sure that neither he nor anybody else would have to suffer with his burden. Now he looked back with the benefit of hindsight, he could see how his actions might have been seen as selfish, but it was that stark difference between ending the pain for him and causing pain for others. Physicality outweighed any emotion in his eyes, sadly. But the fear of death, of the unknown that waited for him and the finality of it all, was what kept him from doing anything. That unnatural and instinctual desire to survive and carry on was overwhelming for Harvey. He could never have ended it all. He knew he was too much of a coward deep down. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing he had yet to decide. All he knew was that it could only be one or the other.

The drug had been by no means a cure. It was just an effective, if not destructive treatment that worked surprisingly well with turpisis-sufferers. Harvey had been offered it as a last ditch attempt to throw off such an aggressive form of the disease and to put it back into either a dormant state for the best case scenario, or to at least alleviate the symptoms for the worst case. The drugs damaged his liver though, and it inhibited his immune system. The side effects had been far from pretty, resulting in bouts of nausea and crippling pain from cramping in his guts. Whilst on the drugs he hadn't been allowed to drink, which had meant sitting by and watching many of his friends have the times of their lives whilst he sat by sipping wearily at his water.

But now he was off the drugs. The doctors had given him an all clear and he was now free to go back to being himself. Ugly was now just a forgotten ghost, haunting his reflection still but unable to speak or take control. Harvey would nod in Ugly's direction, if only to acknowledge that they could meet again someday, but other than that the entity had been doomed to stay behind, locked back into that dark corner of Harvey's mind. The Golden Retriever sighed as he neared his home, fishing out his house keys; there was nothing that could be done now. He could just get on with his life and finally establish an identity of his own, rather than hiding behind that of the group's.

Harvey let himself in, the house being empty as both his parents were away at work. He could enjoy the first few hours of true liberty in the sanctuary of his home, free from parental intervention and away from the petty eyes of his peers. He could just kick back and relax.

He dumped his bag down beside the coat rack, running his paws through his head fur as he kicked the door shut. It was a nice feeling to be back to normal. It was remarkable how his fur had grown back, and with such quality too. He had half expected that after the ordeal he'd torturously endured that he'd be left with fur equal to that of straw or that it would never grow in quite as fully again, but there it was. He could glide his paws through the silky smoothness and brush the luxurious symbol of his breed's pride with happiness. For him, it moved beyond just fur. It was a marking not even of pride, but of normality. That he didn't have to walk through the streets, bedraggled and looking as though he had some death-inducing virus, and feel normal amongst everybody else. He cast a glance in the mirror, spotting that hanging face of Ugly just in his periphery, but knowing it was nothing more than a dark time forgotten. His face was handsome again; his coat returned to its prior state and his body in better shape than it was before. Things were, he could honestly say, looking up.

When he drew his paws away, however, something caught his eye. Looking down at his paws, he noticed the odd clump of fur. His face paled, the blood draining from his head as he stared in horror at the clump. This ordinary, unassuming spattering of fur was the worst thing to happen today, simply because of one fact.

Malting season wasn't for another four months.

Desperately, frantic with fear, he looked into the mirror and prised apart his head fur, scouring it for any more loose fur. This couldn't happen... It wasn't fair. Harvey whined, tears already beginning to leak as he begged for all his might that he was just paranoid, that it was some fantastical overreaction. Malting season was early. That had to be the answer. It couldn't be back. It couldn't have come back so soon, not when everything was going back to normal. Searching for the source did not take long, as he found the spots of red already seeping through, parting the fur to reveal a patch of blotched red skin, hearing Ugly whispering back in his ear,

"There's only one solution..."