Stand Up And Fight!
#24 of Hockey Hunk Season 6
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Hello, dearies,
and welcome to the Hockey Hunk, my ongoing furry soap opera of drama and hijinks, comingto you in Furry Definition - am I out of jokes today? *chuckles* Not sure, but not out of story, though, and with pleasure I present to you another chapter of my magnum opus now. I look forward to your comments, votes and faves, and I hope that you enjoyed your time in Kirk City once again. *smiles*
Have a good read!
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My tooth brushing was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Yo, are you ready soon?"
_ _
I glared at myself on the mirror, foam dripping over my chin, and cussed softly.
"Just about!" I replied. "You in a hurry!"
"Relatively!"
_ _
"Sure, sure!" I mumbled as I picked up the mug and filled my muzzle with water before a brief gargle and a spit and wiping my maw clean on the back of my paw. "Come on..."
The bathroom lock was broken, anyway, but we still tried to respect each other's privacy, even though a few times we had had to share the facilities. This was not one of them, however, so I just turned stiffly and stomped to the door. Marker stood out there, clad in a loose T-shirt and some long pajama pants that seemed to be in the danger of falling off his slim hips. That's what you got when you shopped at the Salvation Army, I thought, as I made room for him to enter.
"Here you go."
Marker gave me a little smile while I walked slowly out of the bathroom and out into the living area. The wolf disappeared into the bathroom to begin the clumsy process of taking your dick out for a wee with plastic fingers. The next step landed somewhat awkwardly and put pressure on a sore spot in my leg, making me grimace, briefly.
"Shit."
I walked over to the couch and sat on the armrest, stable enough so that I could tug up my shorts to get onto the stump liner. I felt up around the rim where the thick silicone pads met skin and fur and the hard shell of the prosthetic terminated, my fingers rubbing as I felt for anything out of place there. The liner seemed smooth and the prosthetic felt like it was fitting well. Taking it all off would take time and effort, too, and being late on the first day was not going to make too much of a good impression on anyone. Having puss drip off my leg was not going to do that either, though, so with some wrangling, I released the pin and pulled my leg off.
It never stopped being strange, but you got used to it, like I suppose you got used to things like hideous bodily injuries. Unrolling the sock-like thing off my stump was a balancing act on my less than optimal seat, but I knew from experience that sitting on a high ground like that made getting up and about easier when you weren't entirely sure on your footpaws.
I winced a little at the sight of the pale, puckered skin covering the stump. I understood that it had been taken from what was left of what was below where they'd chopped it, to make sure there was enough skin left over to cover the severed end. It looked exactly as unnatural it was, and felt so, too, smooth and slightly prickly where the fur used to be, as I ran my fingers slowly over the surface of the stump, below my knee.
A sloshing noise that was the toilet flushing told me that Marker would probably soon come out of the bathroom, but that did not stop me, or made me hurry. Once you'd lost all of your privacy for weeks at intensive care you tended to become extremely protective of it when you finally got it back, but living like we did, concessions had been made. Besides, having someone else check you up could make all the difference in keeping healthy and safe.
My fingers were still rubbing along the oddly wrinkled surface of my stump when he stepped out, looking a bit tired still, his artificial paw pressed over his belly like it often was when he walked, as if protecting himself, or maybe his paw, or possibly, at this point, trying to keep his pants from falling.
"Got troubles?" he asked.
"I'm making sure I don't," I replied. "Thought it rubbed me the wrong way..."
"Could've just been phantom pain, too," I shrugged.
"Shit, I didn't take my Neurontin yet," Marker complained, heading for the kitchen on his two perfectly good legs.
"It's still next to my Elavil," I replied.
He rummaged in the kitchen and I continued groping myself, making sure that the skin on my stump as alright. I found a somewhat sensitive spot on the backside of my knee, near the old suture line, but it didn't seem too irritated, nor felt warm to touch, or clammy. They always told us to beware of clammy, when telling us to lead our lives as cripples.
"You haven't made any breakfast, have you?" Marker asked.
"I'm not really hungry," I said.
I didn't have to tell him that being in a stressful situation like today was bound to make me need to run for the toilet, and I didn't want to risk that happening now. Of course he understood, but...no point in spoiling poor Marker's appetite.
"Well I need to eat something," he said, "since I'm already up, I might as well."
"Did I wake you?" I asked, though knew very well that in such a small apartment, it had probably been inevitable.
"I didn't sleep too well," he said.
At least he hadn't screamed, or yelled, or cried, this time around.
"Sorry to hear that."
I decided that the stupid stump was good enough to go, and began to roll the silicone condom over my leg. I pulled it especially taut and adjusted any little wrinkles and creases that appeared over its surface, and made sure that sat well. I knew I still had time to go, but spending too much time messing about here might put me off my schedule.
"It happens," he said. "Maybe I'll take a nap later on."
"Got lots of school today?"
He frowned a little in thought.
"I've got a math class, and English, then I've got activity therapy at the hospital."
Damn...that meant two unaccompanied bus trips through the city for a guy who barely dared to look himself in the mirror, let alone show it off to anyone else. I almost wished I could've gone with him, but I also knew that coddling him was not going to make a difference for the better.
"Busy day," I said.
"Not really. Nothing like yours."
I snorted.
"I'm just going to see the furs we're doing the web page rehaul with, talk them through what they want to do with it, tell them what we can do with it, and that's about it for now," I said.
"So you're kind of a salesman now?" Marker suggested.
I chuckled roughly.
"Not really. They've negotiated with my boss at the work placement, so they're now just sending me the rookie to the front line to do the dirty work."
"Dayamn."
I picked up my leg and snapped it into place as casually as that was possible, felt around the rim to make sure it sat there properly, and carefully stood up to put my weight on my paws again. The previous painful sting was not to be felt, not even after a couple of experimental steps.
"All better now," I said, "must've been a fluke and nothing more."
"Let's hope it stays like that then," he nodded.
"Yeah, let's, "I replied after a few further slightly lopsided steps, considering my prosthetic already had a sneaker on it, while my other paw was bare. I'd just been too lazy to take it off last night, and it's not like it did it any harm. Walking around too much with such a lopsided gait could, so I'd better get my clothes on soon enough. I again wondered whether I should risk some breakfast. Marker too had only consumed a palmful of epilepsy tablets (we looked them up online) and was now scratching his muzzle with his good fingers.
"Thanks for looking after me," I added, hoping to cheer him up a little.
"Sure," Marker replied.
He's been worried about me recently. I've been trying to keep everything from him, but sometimes...perhaps sometimes I slip. It's hard to be moody when you live in such close quarters, and with both of us having our ups and downs...
Maybe, I thought, perhaps he thought I was having trouble with my leg or my stomach. I'd complained about them enough, and he'd listened, and helped, and I'd done the same to him. It felt to me that he was paying extra attention nowadays, always up to help with my stump or anything related to that. Maybe he thought I was worried my stump was going to rot off, or I was having particularly bad episodes of phantom pain, or that my stomach was exploding in secret, or...whatever he could think of. We both had long medical files, and he had a long memory.
I watched him keep up his manly act of scratching, and knew that my pain had to be kept a secret.
He couldn't hear that most of my misery came from the fact I was a bawling faggot and a sissy who couldn't keep his paws away from where they didn't belong. Marker didn't deserve to know that the man he by all accounts trusted like a soldier must trust his fellow man in fellow battle had made such a terrible fool of himself and was known to attack straight men with his tongue.
So fucking stupid of me.
At least I used to make sure that they were asking for it before doing anything like that. There usually never was any doubt, not in the places where I used to go to find the things that I wasn't supposed to have, not a good Christian man should. At least I wasn't worried about the Almighty, because the existence of a benevolent God really would require the kind of blind faith that disappeared as soon as you saw a suicide bomber to be stand up and get so many bullets on his chest that his lungs dribbled down the wall like some kind of a perverse slushie. There was that old saying that there were no atheists in foxholes (and as a soldier fox, you heard that one a lot), but maybe I just didn't feel it.
Damn Cobb. Still enough to mix my head up after a decade, with the help of an overactive imagination and some modern technology. His attempts at cheering me up with a faggot party where he swished around like a goddamn drag queen around those old queers were just about as successful as my attempt to get into his pants, and his brother, too...obviously too much into that lion of his to care much about anything else. I hadn't heard from him besides the odd Facebook message, while Cobb had tried to call me a few times and offer his good advice on how to meet nice non-heterosexual men here with the help of his lovely friends "Rory and Peter and - "
That cougar who'd only talked about himself and then made accusations -
"Is it difficult to get to the mall?" Marker asked.
At least that was a worry that was easier to handle.
"I'll take number 16 to the central bus station and then take number 7 which takes me right to the mall," I said, "I looked it up online."
"Well, that's good," he said.
I suppose it was. Having my own car was just a dream at this point, even though I'd been told that I would be more than able to drive one. Affording one was a wholly different thing, when you were already living on food stamps and good will.
"Nothing to stress about," I said.
"Are you stressed?"
He didn't know half of it, but that was my choice.
"Well, yeah," I rubbed my muzzle and yawned, feeling comforted by the little bit of grooming that allowed me to do. "I'm flying solo on this, I'm supposed to make a good impression."
"Why wouldn't you? You know your stuff, don't you?"
"I'm just learning this shit," I huffed. "I might know how to write the code for most part, but doing actual design...putting it all into shape and make it pretty for them to like what it looks like..."
"But you've gotten really good grades on all your exams and work, and you've helped me out, too..." Marker said. "You helped me read that first book, for example."
Poor kid...back then I'd wondered whether he actually knew how to read, considering how long it took him to get through that tiny little thing. At least he'd gotten more comfortable since. This whole "let's raise my high school grades" thing was definitely not going for waste with poor Marker. He was a smart kid, but he'd never just had the chance.
Maybe we had that in common, him and me.
Never at the right place.
Never had the chance.
I just hoped I wasn't going to blow my chance right here by a less than impressive performance at my in work training program.
"Well I don't know," I muttered.
He was looking at me again, and despite the weary expression and the horrible gashes, he managed to look just about his age. Damn young. Too young to have his life thrown into a shithole like this.
"I'm sure it'll be fine, though," he said.
"Well, at least I'm not in a hurry," I said. "We'll just be talking today, anyway."
"Well that's good then, isn't it?"
"I'll be working with them for several weeks, I better make sure they get a good impression," I said.
"Why not?" he said. "You're not a bad guy."
He really didn't know.
"Thanks," I smiled a little. "I better start putting my clothes on now."
"I'll make some breakfast, then," he said, "you sure you don't want anything?"
"I'll be fine."
"Uh, okay."
I went quietly into my room and looked up the clothes I'd picked for today. There was a pair of perfectly serviceable pants and a blue collared shirt, both of which I considered to be neat enough for the purpose of presenting myself as a professional computer programming specialist. I probably ended up looking shabby, but since when were computer guys supposed to appear in a well-pressed three piece sui with a flower poking out of their buttonhole, probably something like that princess friend of Victor's boyfriend would wear. At least the pants didn't have any snags on them that could slip into the joints of my leg or the like. Flying on my face because my leg fell off would probably be a fantastic way to make a first impression at my employers.
I didn't have a mirror in my room, so there was really only one chance...or two, perhaps, as I walked out to the living area.
"How does it look like?"
Marker was making a sandwich, holding a jar of peanut butter in his claws while he did the more delicate work of spreading t with his proper paw. His ears jumped when I entered, a kind of a reflex he got that usually had him hunch away whenever someone approached. He couldn't really keep it perfectly in check even when it was just me around, either.
"Well I know nothing about it but I'd say that you look...smart," he replied.
I took that as a sign that I didn't look like a flaming tail chaser, and that was fine enough for me.
"Thanks. As long as the clothes don't look like they're about to fall apart," I muttered.
"No, they don't," he said.
"I guess I'm ready then," I replied. "I better get going."
"Do you want me to go shopping today?"
That offer surprised me. He didn't like venturing out on his own, knowing how he caught everyone's eye.
"Since you're going to be out there for a while and all...and I'm not that busy."
"If you like to, why not?" I replied.
"Okay."
Fuck, we sounded like we'd been neutered, or something.
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Thank you for reading my story! I hope you had a splendid time, and I look forward to your feedback! Also remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!
See you on Friday!
Cheerio!