Loyalty Scheme
#11 of Hockey Hunk Season 6
Rory does some heavy (tail) lifting, and a question is popped.
Loyalty Scheme
*
Hello, sandwiches,
and welcome to The Hockey Hunk! I am pleased to see that you're in attendance in great numbers, and I do hope that you enjoy the chapter! It's been a long time in the making as always, and crafting these stories brings me a great deal of pleasure - I do look forward to hearing from you, since your feedback is always very much appreciated! As always, remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!
Have a fun read!
*
"Ooooooaaaaauuuuhhhhhheeeemmmuuuoooohaaaaaahhh!"
"Hmmm...I see someone didn't get their tonsils removed as a cub!"
I opened my eyes after a pleasantly long, big big lion yawn and blinked once before my vision centered on the one who had spoken, namely, the red-blouse-wearing, perky-eared, perky-boobed, perky-butted cougar observing my every move.
"Oh, no, no," I smiled, letting out a pleased rumble as I replied to her cheeky observations, "I was always a healthy boy."
"Oh I bet," Marge rumbled, "though your breath stinks of stale coffee..."
Owwww, what a way to shoot someone down. My tail dive-bombed behind me while I pouted a little and smacked my lips wryly.
"Should I get a breath mint?"
"Oh heavens no, don't you dare!" Marge yelped dramatically. "That would cover your natural musk, and we definitely need some of that around here."
"Ohh yes?" I puffed out my chest a little, stood with my shoulders a bit wider, my legs spread so that he was getting a proper full frontal lion. "Should I wander around the premises and mark my territory with my manly odor?"
Marge's purr was dangerous.
"Well that probably wouldn't be a bad idea at all..." she rumbled.
There was a clatter behind us, and turning to look at the commotion, I witnessed Mason appearing through the loading bay doors, a box of books in his arms, tail swishing about as he squeezed himself into the back room.
"Anyone help me a bit?" the wolf called out. "There's three dozen of these here today."
"The September stock is coming in," Marge said, "all our pre-orders...did you sign in the sheet?"
"Of course I did," Mason rumbled, tail moving behind him while he unhurriedly stomped across our social area and towards the storage shelves, "the truck just left."
"Well chop chop, Rory, time to put those man-muscles into use!" Marge clapped her paws together. "Don't let poor Mason do all the hauling."
I glanced at the slowly departing wandering tail before gazing back over to Marge again.
"Aye aye, ma'am," I saluted her with a decisively casual gesture.
"Don't make me get the crop out," she winked.
"You have a crop?" I asked, my brow jumping in curiosity.
Marge chuckled brightly, remarkably so even considering that the clock showed a time that still started with the number 7.
"Goggy has all sorts of interesting props for his photography," she replied innocently.
I tried not to think of Marge wearing something made of latex and welding a riding crop, and shook the idea away with a little chuckle of my own. Just what he might make me wear if I'd finally accept his offer to body-paint me and then immortalize my lovely self in one way or another.
I walked over to the storage section and watched Mason push the box up onto the shelf.
"How will I be most helpful?" I asked. "Want me to fetch or unpack?"
"Uhm..." the wolf looked me over, as if requiring a lot of thinking for that simple decision.
"I can do either," I said, "I'm pretty much back to normal with my leg and my paw..."
...which Marge had told me enough times, declaring that my dislocated ass was now prettier than ever.
Thankfully a certain Victor Holden agreed. Murr.
"So how about you fetch and I'll unpack and arrange?"
"Sure, if you like," I smiled to the wolf, "don't mind the exercise."
"Sure," he said.
I gave the mild-mannered wolf another smile before I made my first wandering trip over to the loading door, where I picked a box from the wooden pallet and then walked unhurriedly through the back room. Marge had relocated to the kitchen corner and was currently pouring herself a cup of coffee.
"How many is that now?" I asked playfully.
"Decaf," she replied, her tail moving like a whip while she followed me with a whole body tilt that caused her bosom to expand noticeably, "Mrs. I Know Everything Better Than You When It Comes to Having Babies" says that coffee is dangerous to pregnant mother and the safe amount of consume is three cups a day."
"Your mother been at it again?" I chimed.
She snorted behind me, out of my view now that I was approaching Mason again.
"Oh I almost wish, then one could at least close the phone," she yelped behind me, "no, that was me being stupid enough to go read pregnancy websites. The forums are full of paranoid backstabbing bitches."
"Why am I not surprised?" I replied, giving Mason a small smirk while he was busy putting plastic shrink-wrapped books onto the shelf.
"You wouldn't believe the flame wars!" Marge spluttered.
"Flame wars?" I questioned with a quirked brow as I hauled the box onto the shelf to wait Mason's unloading.
"That's when somewhere on the internet the supporters of two different views on something start to argue over it and it gets really dramatic and over the top," Mason spoke, quietly and with intention, so that he almost surprised me by speaking up like.
"Oh..." I made a face, "sounds awful."
"The natural birth supporters are the worst bitches," Marge yelled, "they tell everyone who wants drugs that they're traitors to the womankind. Then they start telling how they're going to use yoga and acupuncture during the opening phase...."
I glanced at Mason and chuckled.
"Please don't explain that to me," I smirked.
Mason gave me a "whut?" look and shrugged.
"And God almighty if you have a C-section or an epidural..." Marge's mutterings continued.
"You need to play the Hitler card!" Mason interjected.
"EXCUSE ME?"
The wolf appeared amused.
"It's called Godwin's Law," he said, "it means, whenever an internet discussion leads to the point where Hitler or the Nazis are mentioned, you might as well stop talking altogether because after that it's all over."
Marge appeared, flanked by shelves on each sides as she peered down the aisle at the two of us standing there, and hopefully looking all manly.
"Well I don't think the Nazis write on a forum where bored women discuss which incontinence pad is the best," she commented.
Sweet Lord Mother of Mercy.
"I could've sworn it would be the nipple protectors," I said.
Mason gawked. Marge's lips practically trembled with her purr.
"Oh I'm glad that at least someone here understands," she said, "if only that'd extend to shoulder rubs and ankle rubs..."
I winked.
"Sorry, too busy, "I said, "have lots of books to put into this shelf."
"Crap," Marge's lips pursed. "Guess we really need that extra pair of paws."
"A private masseuse for the staff?" I suggested.
"In your dreams, kinky boy," Marge murmured, taking obvious pleasure in it, "if anyone here is getting massaged, that's me. I have needs."
"Can't Goggy massage you?"
"His paws are sore after flipping burgers all day," Marge complained, "artist's paws, you know..."
I suspected this could be a good moment to make a limp wrist joke, but that'd be too mean towards the pleasantly unruly artistic cat and his lady friend, of course, and...well...that'd be like friendly fire, anyway.
"Maybe Mason could help," I chuckled.
"Sorry, busy after work," he said.
How peculiar...I wonder what he could be doing...maybe playing hide the herring with...
Tsk. I was probably sublimating my own secret afterwork plans in such thoroughly disgraceful ideas. More likely they'd just sit down to play some video games in their boxers and then paws could wander and...what if Victor had a PlayStation or something...
Murr.
"Well, WORK!" Marge yelped, suddenly," I don't see much studmuffery going on here."
"Yes, boss," I nodded gracefully while I wandered towards her, forcing her to allow me to pass while I smiled at the idea of Mason rubbing Marge's footpaws...possibly with some easy listening music playing in the background...
Or how about...
I fetched another box while thinking about Victor kissing my footpads and getting rather cheerful in my pants while such thoughts coursed my mind, and finding myself in the room again, I found out that Crystal had joined our merry band, lingering at the foot of the stairs.
"...and I told him, I can't eat liver, it's got mercury in it and it's going to make my fetus stupid..."
"Still going on about dietary restrictions, Marge?" I boomed while taking a frisky stomp towards the shelves and awaiting Mason.
"Oh you don't want Marge's baby to be born with 13 fingers do you, Rory?" Crystal said.
"I wonder how many fingers coffee-drinking causes," I replied.
Marge groaned.
"If I was to believe everything on that site, even the air that I breathe will damage my baby," she said, "considering the pollution, that probably isn't a farfetched idea at all. All the lead from the exhaust fumes..."
"I think we have a copy of The Silent Spring in the downstairs section," Mason said.
Everyone looked at the usually quiet wolf. I must've looked surprised, Crystal was...curious, and Marge...her maw was partially open. The wolf's tail swished a little as he realized that he was the center of attention, but at least he didn't shy away or anything, just gave us a bit of "okay" look and shrugged and went on unpacking the box.
Marge's face soon melted into elation as she suddenly approached the wolf, her tail flicking rapidly before she reached her young co-worker, and put an arm about his shoulder.
"Oh come here youuuuu..."
Me and Crystal stared in amazement how Marge smecked a kiss onto the wolf's cheek and ruffled the surprised lupine's head furs with her nimble little fingers.
"Awww my sweet little boy, your first obscure English department in-joke...I'm so proud of you! All grown up!" she crooned in a ridiculous voice that was surely making Mason blush.
"It's on the activism writing class I'm taking with Haakon," he replied, sounding a bit shy again, "we're covering classics from major mass movements, such as the green movement, the peace movement, nuclear disarmament, the gay rights movement, feminism, Ebonics..."
"As long as you won't become a militant anything," Marge said, "this is a neutral shop, so you coming in with a couple of white doves on your shoulder or a rainbow flag would be a bit...noticeable..."
The wolf's ears flicked back and forth. I felt myself tense a little, my tail arranging itself into an angle.
"What if it was a small rainbow pin?" he said. "We all wore the pink ribbon pins for breast cancer awareness week, how would that be in any way different?"
Oh God...was Mason...was he...standing up to his...our...kind? Was he giving such a gently worded, softly spoken plead for equality in the face of Marge and her boobs...doing exactly what I had never had had the balls to do, and he just...spoke it with a shrug?
"Of course that wouldn't be any different," Crystal stomped the ground for emphasis, "how about we do that, Marge, during the next LGBT awareness week? OR...AIDS day or something..."
I just stared, unable to quite believe what was going on.
Marge rumbled.
"Well I just happened to have enough breast cancer pins for everyone, because I'm a donor to the cancer research society," she said, "as for the rest, there's no shop police against anything like that, so if we wanted to do something like that, then we could."
"I think it'd be a good idea," I found myself saying, after a sobering swallow, "the...different solidarity things..."
"Hear, hear," Crystal nickered.
"So what do you want to support, Rory?" Marge gave me a pointed look.
*
Thank you for reading my story! I hope you had an interesting time, and I look forward to hearing from you. Do remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!
See you on Friday! Tooddleloo!