Meeting the Callagiers
"Isaac, look out the window! We're almost there!"
Isaac sighed before he removed his headphones and shut his laptop. He rubbed his eyes before turning to look out the window at the world going by the window. The penultimate collision of nature and artificiality, the meshing of foliage and concrete jungle was what greeted his eyes. It was absolutely like nothing back home - but not home anymore, he reminded himself. The trees were branching and deciduous and lush, rather than the thinner pines and even aspens that populated his previous home. Gone were the steep heights of the Rockies and here was the lush hills of the west coast. As they came around a bend, they came to a clearing and -
"Oh my goodness!" Isaac's mother exclaimed. The cityscape came into view, the skyscrapers jutting into the sky like metallic, motley-colored daggers above the surroundings, the number of cars on the highway in front of us suddenly dramatically increased in number, forcing Isaac's mother to begrudgingly hit the brakes. "That's one thing I'll hate about living here," she growled in slight frustration, "is the ungodly amount of traffic."
"Not to mention," Isaac mentioned, holding up a thick binder of what appeared to be notes, "the fact that we will be the only humans in a five-mile radius at the very least."
"Oh, come on, Isaac," his mother chastised, "it'll be fun. A new culture to explore and become a part of - you'll love it."
"Sure," Isaac replied, "as soon as I don't need this damn notebook." For emphasis, he tossed the notebook heavily onto the seat behind him.
"Hey, it was nice of your stepfather to compile that for us - with help, of course. If we want to blend into their culture, we have to learn and absorb it," she said in a slightly hurt tone. "Laws, eating habits, trends, dialect, activities, dress, beliefs - and sex. It's important stuff."
"Yeah," Isaac retorted grudgingly in agreement, "but I'd rather not have to read through it all. Makes it sound like they're a bunch of horny -"
"Isaac!" his mother exclaimed unhappily.
"It's true," he pointed out.
"Honey, you have to take their entire culture in, not just the parts you like," she said, lowering her voice. "And I know that you don't see eye to eye with their sexual culture, but you have to try your best."
"I know," he sighs in agreement. "But it's not easy to adjust when you can't even - "
"Isaac, you need to stop worrying about that. It can't be that bad."
"There's a reason why it's the same magnitude of an insult as calling someone a cunt if you're called one, mom," Isaac reminded his mother.
"Isaac! You don't need to use such language!" she said, rather shocked.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "But that is true."
Isaac's mother said nothing for a moment, before changing the subject. "Your stepfather found your class schedule in the mail this morning. He says you got all the classes you wanted, even though you do have to take Sex Ed. Turns out it's a graduation requirement."
"Well that's just lovely," Isaac replied rather unhappily. "I'm going to have a hell of a hard time passing that requirement."
"Actually, it turns out that there may be a solution to that," his mother remarked.
Isaac almost audibly groaned. "Let me guess - that's where we're going."
Isaac's mother didn't even nod in agreement. Her silence spoke volumes.
That solution had turned out to be going to a doctor - the equivalent of a fertility expert in human terms, but rather a routine requirement for an anthro doctor. It was one of the first of many indications of just how crucial sexuality was to the anthro population. Isaac found himself waiting in some waiting room, idly twiddling his thumbs and trying to avoid the curious stares from the other patrons. He stared at the floor, a small scowl etched on his face. He really didn't understand why any of this was necessary - why was sex such a big deal to these people anyway? And why the hell -
"Kowalski?"
Isaac looked up to see a nurse standing in the door. He was a ferret with short gray fur, wearing a white medical coat. His blue eyes were friendly enough, which matched his friendly smile. Isaac stood up and crossed the room to where he was, passing two otters, a female that looked roughly his age, and then a male who looked a few years younger. He gave them a curt, distant nod as he passed, before reaching the nurse.
"Isaac?" he asked me, holding his hand out for a shake.
Isaac nodded his head and then shook the ferret's hand.
"Welcome to Los Angeles," he said.
"Thank you," Isaac replied.
"Follow me please," he said, before leading Isaac down a couple of short hallways and into a room. This room looked like any other pediatric checkup room, with the walls colored in neutral browns, yellows, and greens, with a checkup bed, a desk with a computer, and then the counter with a sink, needles, and other supplies and equipment. Isaac was told to sit there and wait. His mother, who had accompanied him thus far, was escorted out of the room, leaving Isaac to himself. Isaac sat on the checkup bed, his legs dangling over the side above the ground.
A moment later, another nurse - or doctor, Isaac wasn't particularly sure - walked into the room, shutting the door behind her. He could tell that the doctor was definitely a she; it was rather hard not to notice her healthy-sized breasts under her coat. It also was hard to not notice that her coat was all that she was wearing. She was an otter with dark brown fur and deep blue eyes that were locked on Isaac the moment the door was shut. "Isaac Kowalski?" she asked in her lilting soprano voice, her hand extended.
Isaac nodded yes and shook her hand.
"I'm doctor Callagier, your physician," she said with a rather frighteningly disarming smile. "That means not only do you come here for your health checkups, I am also your psychiatrist and your 'fertility expert,' as you humans would term it, even if it isn't entirely accurate." Isaac couldn't help but notice her knowing smirk at that last comment. He began to feel slightly uncomfortable.
"So looking at your file, you have had your shots and health checkup at your previous doctor about - three months ago," she continued, looking only briefly at her clipboard, "and you have no indications of needing psychiatric assistance. So I assume that you are here for the 'fertility expertise,' no?" she asked with a smirk.
Isaac felt rather uncomfortable now. This might be a totally acceptable thing for the furs - no, anthros - but this is totally not okay with me, _he thought to himself. _It's like she's fucking flirting with me, and I am rather not okay with it.
"Well, depending how this is going to go, I might need psychiatric help," he said half-jokingly.
"Naturally," Dr. Callagier replied with a nod. "Such things are a massive shock to the system, culturally speaking. However, we have dallied away enough time as it is. Let us move on to the questions." She sat down at the desk and grabbed a pen and her clipboard.
Isaac nodded silently. At least that would be a diversion from - whatever this whole thing was.
Dr. Callagier began. "Do you ever have trouble urinating or have painful discharges from your genitals?" she asked.
Isaac inwardly winced. The questions were just like any questions he might get at a human doctor's office, but the differences were almost exemplified with the questioning, adding to the discomfort he felt. "No," he replied, and Dr. Callagier wrote something down. The questions continued for a few minutes, discussing whether he had ever had pelvic infections and the other questions one might expect from a doctor, before she paused and then spoke. "These next questions may make you feel - uncomfortable. This is a natural response to the nature of these questions. You may also experience a - certain urge - which is also a natural bodily response to the next part of the interview. If and when that occurs, feel free to let me know."
'Why?" Isaac asked.
Dr. Callagier smirked. "So that I can properly determine the state of your reproductive system," she replied.
Isaac remained silent.
"Okay, let's start with simple questions. Have you ever engaged in sexual activities?"
"Nope."
Dr. Callagier's smile faded slightly for a second. She wrote down a note and then proceeded to ask more questions. "Have you ever wanted to engage in sexual activities with someone?"
"Um, could you clarify that?" Isaac asked.
Dr. Callagier smirked a little more. "Has the thought of engaging in sexual activities crossed your mind in a positive light?"
"Oh, sure," Isaac replied. "Once or twice, I'm sure."
"Have you ever had a physical reactions to such thoughts or prospects?" she asked.
Isaac hesitated a second, before saying, "No. I haven't."
Dr. Callagiers wrote down another note. "Have you ever masturbated?" she asked.
Isaac shook his head. "No."
"Let me clarify: have you ever tried to masturbate?"
Isaac nodded. "Yeah. A couple times. It didn't work."
She scribbled down a note. "When you attempted to masturbate, did you fail to ejaculate or did your genitals fail to stiffen?"
Isaac didn't particularly want to answer his question. But he said, "They failed to stiffen."
She paused for a good moment before writing down her notes. "Have your genitals ever hardened, for any reason?"
"Nope."
She paused again before making note of Isaac's answer. She then pushed her chair back and stood back up. She then asked me to stand up as well, before she took off her medical coat, exposing herself completely.
"What is this supposed to be?" Isaac asked, disbelief beginning to kick in.
"A test," she replied as she walked up to him, pressing her furred body against him, and then, when she didn't get the reaction she expected, she began to grind herself against him briefly before pulling back off and putting her medical coat back on. "You were telling the truth," she said with some surprise evident in her voice.
Of course I was telling the truth, _he wanted to say. _It doesn't take a fucking grind session to prove that - or much of what else has happened, for that matter.
_ _She seemed to almost read Isaac's mind, because she spoke up, "anthros for some reason or other are rather incapable of have erectile dysfunction. This test always fails the patient - until now, at least."
"Oh, well, that's great to hear," he almost growled. "Glad to have that distinction."
Dr. Callagier was silent for a moment. "Alright," she said finally. "You are confirmed Erectile Dysfunction, which requires some form of treatment. With your case, I would suggest medication. I will write a prescription, and will speak with your mother briefly."
Not a word was spoken until Isaac and his mother had gotten back in the car and begun driving home. It was his mother who broke the silence. "So, how did the checkup go?"
"Fucking uncomfortably, that's how it went," Isaac said rather moodily. "Hard to say it went well when your doctor does a fucking grind session as some sort of goddamn test or something."
"A test?" she asked, clearly trying to hide her amusement at Isaac's frustration. "What exactly was she testing?"
Isaac stared at his mother for a second, mouth agape. "You're unbelievable," he finally said.
His mother started laughing as he slunk a bit lower in his seat, a scowl on his face. They pulled up to the driveway of their new home. As they were leaving the car, he said, "Oh, and she says it's bad enough I need medication." He then closed the door and walked inside, greeted by his stepfather, an orange fox named Todd who did his best to be like a dad to Isaac, which he rather appreciated. "How was it?" he asked Isaac.
"It went like whatever," Isaac replied, stepping inside. He called back, "Is it considered normal for your doctor to feel you up?" he called back to his stepfather.
"What is that all about Selena?" Todd asked Isaac's mother, a slightly bemused and amused look on his face.
"Oh! That!" Isaac's mother couldn't contain her amusement any longer. "The doctor, Dr. Callagier, she tested him for ED."
"And the results?" he replied with a smile of amusement of his own.
Isaac's mother sobered up a bit. "Positive. He's going to need medication."
Todd's smile dropped. "Serious?"
Selena nodded. "I'm afraid so."
Todd nodded soberly. "How is he taking it?"
Selena shrugged, "about as well as everything else so far. Which doesn't really say much."
Todd nodded again, turning back into the house for a second. "I just hope he'll be okay at school and all that - I think people could really find that a reason to look down on him."
"Really? Look down on a 190-pound, 6 foot-four athlete?" Isaac's mother giggled.
"A good point," Todd said, closing the door behind Isaac's mother as they walked inside, "but you never know what they might do."
Isaac had walked upstairs immediately upon getting inside and set his backpack on his bed, pulling out his headphones and plugging them into his iPod. He started to play some music from his workout playlist before grabbing his weights and starting to do some reps. He let the music drown out his thoughts and focused on the next rep, and the next rep, and the _next _rep. It was not only to keep his body in good shape - which his body _was _in rather good shape, it was also a tactic to help him relax and keep his thoughts from clouding his judgements. His mother (and stepfather) had endlessly harped on the importance of having an open mind about things, and to do whatever was needed to help get rid of the negative thoughts that clouded out his view of the bigger picture. He counted to sixty as he listened to his music and went throughout his workout routine. It took twenty minutes before he felt clear-headed enough to stop.
It was sometime that afternoon, when the sun was starting to get lower in the sky, and the day changed from blue to a golden hue, when Isaac's mother and stepfather came into the house with some other people. Isaac had been relaxing on the couch, watching some major league soccer, when they came in.
'Well, you guys have a really nice place," said a masculine voice, whose owner was a dark brown otter standing at about six feet even, roughly one hundred and sixty pounds of muscle mass, and wearing a rather casual outfit that was common for anthros, which was a pair of shorts and a sleeveless vest. He was followed by his wife, who was none other than Dr. Callagier, and their two kids, who Isaac had seen in the waiting room that morning in passing.
"Oh, Isaac, meet our neighbors," said Isaac's mother, directing him towards the otters. Isaac shook their hands as they introduced themselves. Mr. Callagier seemed quite jovial and joked a bit with Isaac when he learned that he was one of Dr. Callagier's patients. "So, did she give you the test?" he asked, with an amused twinkle in his eye.
Isaac really didn't want to talk about it, but prepared himself to do so, before Dr. Callagier hit Mr. Callagier on the nose and scolded, "You know better than to discuss matters between a patient and their doctor."
"Oh! Right," he said, properly chastised. 'Sorry, Isaac. Forgot about that."
Isaac laughed a little, fake laugh. "It's alright," he reassured Mr. Callagier.
After that, he met the Callagiers' son, Brandon. He was fourteen years old, and going to be going into his eighth grade year. He looked rather like his father, but without as much of the sharp features that seemed to come with adulthood. And then he met Kara, who was a younger, but spitting image of her mother.
"So you're the new kid," she said rather shyly when Isaac and she met. It was less a statement or question than a greeting.
Isaac nodded quietly. "I'm Isaac."
"Isaac," she said, testing the name before laughing her lilting, musical laugh. "That's a good name to have. I'm Kara."
"Nice to meet you, Kara," Isaac said.
"Likewise," she replied, shaking his hand.
After Isaac and the Callagiers had been acquainted with one another, the festivities began. There was swimming, food, drink, and plenty of talk. It was quickly discovered that Isaac and Kara were both attending Central in the fall. Kara, like Isaac, was a rather athletic individual. She did swim (of course - it's not often to find an otter that doesn't swim), cheer, volleyball, and track. When Isaac was asked what sports he did, he shrugged and said, "Oh, just some here and there."
"Boy," said Todd in a rather joking manner, "you need to feed your ego more. It's starving to death!" There was a round of laughter at Isaac's expense before Todd spoke up again. "This boy is quite the athlete to be fair to him. He broke nearly every record his school had up in Colorado for ski racing - downhill, super G, slalom, moguls, you name it. And if that wasn't remarkable enough, he is also a mean hockey player. And I mean, mean. He played center for Georgetown, and held an undefeated season for two consecutive years."
"Pop," said Isaac in a small voice, "stop bragging about me."
"Ha!" said Mr. Callagier with a snort of laughter. "If half of what he's saying is true, he has every right to brag about you. In fact, he should brag loud enough that the clowns - erm, sorry, I mean coaches," he amends after receiving a proper elbow to his side from Dr. Callagier, "hear you and decide to let him try out."
"Why wouldn't they do that?" asked Mrs. Kowalski with a slight tone of concern apparent in her voice.
"Well," said Dr. Callagier in a very guarded tone, "some of the teachers are not - thrilled about the prospect of teaching a human who isn't very well acquainted with how things are done around here. They believe it's a recipe for trouble, and they want no part of it."
"That's bull," Kara remarked.
"But it's true," her father told her in a slightly chastising voice.
"That's why it's bull," Kara replied in a low voice to which Brandon and Isaac laughed.
The adults all exchanged a look and then laughed. With the tension broken, the topic changed to more benign topics. After a while, the Callagiers made their leave, promising to see them again real soon, but not before Kara slipped him her number. "To keep in touch," she had said with an oddly charming smile. Isaac watched some more television, before he decided to head up to sleep. As he stood up and headed into the kitchen on the way to his room, Todd handed him a couple pieces of paper. "What's this?" he asks.
"Well, the first is your class schedule for you to get used to. Also, there is something of interest for you. I wrote a letter to the football coach, who is your - History teacher, it looks like."
Isaac looked down at the second piece of paper and read its contents silently:
DEAR MR. AND MRS. KOWALSKI, it read, IT IS MY GREAT PLEASURE TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR SON, ISAAC KOWALSKI WILL BE ELIGIBLE TO TRY OUT FOR THE VARSITY AND JUNIOR VARSITY FOOTBALL TEAMS. I THANK YOU FOR THE LETTER AND AM ALSO TROUBLED AT THE IMPLICATIONS YOUR LETTER SUGGEST. NO STUDENT SHOULD BE BARRED FROM TRYING TO EXCEL HERE AT CENTRAL HIGH. The letter went on to describe the date of the beginning of tryouts, and what was expected and required for them. Isaac read through the entire letter then looks back up at his stepfather. "Wow, pop, I don't really know what to say," he said, trying to put his thoughts together in a somewhat lucid fashion. "I mean, I've never played football before, so I don't know how well that will work out."
"Oh, you'll do fine," Todd replied confidently. "You can hold your own - I've seen you play hockey, and that sport is almost worse than football."
Isaac laughed. He wasn't sure how true it was, but his stepfather's words were encouraging enough as it was. "Thanks, pop," he said finally, giving him a hug before heading up the stairs to his room. "Good night," he called down, before heading into his room. He then flopped down his bed after shutting off the light. His last thought as he drifted off to sleep was,this is going to be one hell of a move.