# Manuki

Author: The Tailless Bobcat
Tags: Arctic Fox, City, Clean, Drama, Fursuit, Human, No-Yiff, Transformation

"I have to do this. I can't have you
anymore." Tears streamed down the orange-haired man's face as he held out the
soft white animal suit in front of him, the bottom parts of it being lifted up
by the wind every few seconds or so. "You... were a part of my life for so long," the man sputtered out, "and now..." He sighed, the slight gust blowing
his bangs to the side. "Now, I have
to put you down." He brought the suit up to his lips with shaking hands and
kissed its muzzle. "Goodbye, Manuki, my sweet, sweet fox."
The man stuffed the suit under his right arm. With
slow, sorrowing steps, he headed for the trash bin in front of him, lifting its
lid after several long seconds of dismay. With hesitation, he slowly placed the
costume among the garbage, among the bags of waste that purged his nose with an
obvious stink. His head swiveled this way and that in suspiciousness as he shut
the lid. The emotion was too much, for he, Tyler George Lutzmann, had been
connected to Manuki for the better part of eight years. In fact, Manuki was a
character that he had made to represent himself alongside others in a subset of
science fiction and fantasy communities called the furry fandom. He had found
this particular fandom while browsing on an art website. At the time, it fit
perfectly, as it would often bring back memories of the books he had read as a
young kid. In the eight years that followed, Tyler became engrossed in that
small community, creating and sharing his own art he'd done of Manuki and of
other friend's personas he had known from the Internet. He would eventually
become a regular at conventions dedicated to the fandom around his home of San
Francisco. In his fifth year at one such meeting, Tyler brought his creation to
life, complete with a moving jaw for speech. The suit was by no means terribly
expensive to make, but for Tyler, it had all paid off well. He remembered the
strange looks people gave him as he strutted by, their countenances shattered
by a young man in a canine suit. But Tyler didn't care, at least not that year.
Reality always seemed to avoid him, at least, until a couple of years ago. That
was when graduation hit. All of a sudden, college began to take up more of his
time. What was worse was that he was harassed (by his new dorm-mates, no less)
at the local convention that year. The memories still haunted him, the
beatings, the arrest, and the ultimatum from his parents to "lose the fursuit
or never face reality again". The added pressure, coupled with further
bullying, was what convinced Tyler to shut down all accounts linked to his
character two months beforehand. It was too much, and this dumping of the
fursuit served as the last blow to Manuki, the death kiss goodbye. The arctic
fox had been life and happiness for Tyler, and in the wake of his symbolic death,
the man simply was at a loss of motivation. But thunder was starting to roll
in, and in his aimless daze, the man rose up, flipped his lapels and walked
away, his furry diamond left amongst the trash, illuminated only by a single
flickering streetlamp.
            The
storm flashed and roared with the wind, rattling the garbage container and its
interior contents. Another, more vibrant shock of lightning coated part of the
bin in a bluish-white light, followed by a strong breeze, which toppled the bin
over onto its side. After rolling a quarter-circle, the lid dropped down,
revealing the snow-white fursuit within. The head of it resembled a fox in
incredibly realistic detail, from the slender canine snout to the lime glass
eyes that nearly spoke the words of life. Suddenly, a violet bolt of
electricity struck the costume, the aftershocks sparking and jumping around the
fur of the garment before stopping dead in their tracks.            For
a moment, not a thing moved.            Then,
an internal skeleton began to form, beginning with the fox's head. Pops and
cracks were heard as the head filled out into existence, the eyes twinkling
with sentience. The fangs of the developing creature quickly sharpened and
roughened in texture, gaining the properties of solid bone. Once the skull of the
fox had been fully formed, the growth moved downward. Muscles, sinews and
joints began to take shape, all of them being an unevenly split mixture of
human and canine traits. As the slim body continued to form, the fox gained
sentience, and could suddenly recall his name. He couldn't yet move due to the
fact that his thin, lean arms were still forming, but he could hear the thunder
and lightning, their cacophony giving life to the night air. The fox quickly
snapped his eyes shut and waited. He normally despised the thought of waiting
(especially when he was tied to his human creator), but under these
circumstances, he had no other option. A grimace formed across his muzzle as
the lower half of his chest was created, along with his strong legs and pawed
feet. In both cases, it was excruciating as he imagined a rebirth would be. However,
they were part of the last areas to take shape, and in being so, they marked
the end of the reanimation of Manuki.            The
white fox opened his eyes
and laid still, his body still on the pavement of the blackened alleyway. The
quick transformation into a living, breathing specimen had meant that the
garbage bin was now a quarter of the size than it had been when he was
inanimate, and as it happened, his right foot was caught in the green
container, claws of it digging into the bags within. With a furrowed brow
overlooking his predicament, Manuki grabbed the sides of the bin and pushed it
away from his trapped foot, the fur on the digitigrade limb now gleaming in the
restored light of the streetlamp. He gave the bin another kick and then rose up
on his feet, his tail slightly wagging in curiosity at his surroundings. He
swiveled his hand-like paws a few times before looking around, darkly tipped
ears flicking instinctively at sonic details. From a few feet away, a sidewalk stretched
into infinity, illumined every now and then by pools of lamplight. With an air
of interest, the fox took a few steps forward and stopped, his lime eyes
widening in remembrance. A tiny convenience store had revealed itself behind
the mortared brick wall, its alighted sign written in Old English script, yet
completely legible.            "Georgina's,"
he read in a slow whisper. The name rolled off nicely on his tongue, as it
brought to him a memory of his creator wearing his skin, walking into the store
to buy an item of some sort. He also seemed to remember that the moniker of the
establishment was, in fact, the name of the person working at the cash machine.
That last recollection brought a human smile to his muzzle. I'm gonna' go inside, he decided, and see if Georgina can get me any clothes.             The
radiator in the whitely lit store was loud, buzzing over the tinny music that
played on the antique PA system. Manuki's right ear flicked in annoyance at the
droning hum that enveloped his hearing so violently, but after a few seconds,
it started to bleed into the background. His nose picked up human scent and he
followed it to the cash machine, stopping in front of rows of magazines,
chewing gum and other mundane objects that workers would place near the
entrances of such stores. As he drummed his clawed fingers on the wooden
counter, he surveyed his surroundings, finding his predicament rather propitious
in nature despite his current lack of garments. However, that feeling suddenly
vanished into thin air when Manuki readjusted his gaze back to the clipboards
behind the cashier's desk. He had heard footsteps immediately beforehand; now
their owner stood before him, a portly old woman, her face wide-eyed and stiff
with horror. Red hair glinted in the dull light of the store as the woman quickly
scrambled over to the cash machine, her eyes attempting to feign ignorance
towards the white humanlike fox. Noticing the lady's apprehensive state, Manuki
crossed his arms and leaned in, hunching his shoulders upward as he surveyed
her with caring eyes.               "Georgina,"
he said softly, "it's okay. I'm not dangerous." The woman peered up from her
fumbling money-filled hands, her eyes still enlarged with fear. She pointed a
trembling finger at the fox.             "H-how
the devil," she exclaimed, "d'you
know my name?" Manuki smiled, chuckling a little to himself, his tail-tip
curling inwards. "Oh! Well..." He
scratched the back of his head. "That's a very long story, actually. But," he
added, sticking out a paw, "we can introduce
ourselves." An awkward silence pervaded between the two, with Georgina taking
the brunt of it. Manuki could tell that she was trying her best to ignore him,
to disregard the unbelievable. He had seen this attitude expressed quite openly
in his previous life as second skin, faint rubbings of fur and leather and
denim reminding him of past rejections by humankind. If she accepts my existence, the white fox pondered, then this'll
be the first step towards my integration into human society. He smiled, his
bushy tail animated by his happiness. Hopefully
I'll get to see my creator again...            Georgina accepted the fox's offer, grabbing a hold of
his paw and shaking it heavily. "Well, y'already know my name," she admitted,
letting it go. "What's yours?"            "Manuki,"
the canine answered. His smile still showed across his muzzle as he straightened
back up, his lean smooth-furred muscles accentuated by grey-black shadows. He
tapped a claw at the desk for a few seconds, watching as Georgina plunked more
money into the ancient cash bank. Then he cocked his head to the side and
asked, "Do you sell any clothes here,
by any chance?"             The
cashier looked at him quizzically. "What d'you need clothes for?" She returned to searching through her change, opening
the drawer again. "You're an animal,
for heaven's sake. What would an animal want with clothes?"            Manuki's
smile quickly faded from his muzzle. "I... just need them for dressing up," he
answered with a sigh. When Georgina continued to disregard him skeptically, he
added, "It's to surprise a good friend of mine." The cashier's eyes darted up
at Manuki for a second before giving the fox a disappointed scowl. "Sorry," she said, "I don't have no clothes for you.
Better place for you to go is..." She sauntered around the counter, sidestepping
through the little metal flap-gate before stopping in front of the handsome
fox. He was not much taller than Georgina. In fact, his head hung only a
half-inch above hers. "You know this city well?"Manuki jumped, shocked out of his trance. He had been
envisioning thoughts about his creator, how he'd approach him, what he'd say. He
could see him, a young man with flame-hued hair embracing his creation. The
sensation of hands coursing through fur had gripped Manuki, but the feeling
vanished with Georgina's call.
"Oh." He blinked and shook his head, readjusting his
vision towards her. "Yeah," he said, adding with a shrug, "kind of, yeah." "Well,
up on this street," Georgina explained, pointing a finger for direction, "is a
small clothin' store. 'S called Goodhill's. Pretty easy t' miss, if you ask
me." Manuki nodded at her suggestion. "Cool," he said. He then gave thanks to
the lady and bid goodbye to her with a giddy wave of a paw. "Now," he muttered
as he stepped outside, "to find this Goodhill's..."
Night seemed to be quickening fast for
Tyler. The storm had passed just as rapidly as it had arrived, and as he had
been heading back to his dorm, he got to catch a bit of lightning here and
there. He thought he had seen a bright violet bolt pass behind the trees in the
mini-maelstrom, but when the next flash came, it was back to its natural white
light, tingeing the clouds blue with energizing flickers of brilliance. He had
thought about that moment for a while, even questioning his sanity, until he
came across the door of the college residence building. It was then that Tyler
decided to halt his thoughts, partially because of the tiredness that was
starting to creep up on him. His body gradually began to feel its effects (drooping
head and all) as he lumbered through the halls of the residence. His room was
number two sixty-four, a trip to the second floor. Normally Tyler would use the
stairs for such a venture, but he was terribly exhausted at this time of night,
and as such, he decided to use the elevator. As he stepped in and pressed the
buttons for the second floor, an aching, dismal sadness returned. Manuki. He leaned back and closed his eyes. Memories came,
ones of wearing that white furred suit, playing the character he deeply loved.
It was a part of him, and to throw that all away was akin to losing a very
close friend of his. He opened his eyes just as the doors began to pull away,
revealing a fairly lit corridor with a saffron carpet. Stepping out, he
surveyed the intervals corresponding to the left and right hallways. He took
the right side and found his room, unlocking its door with the key he always
kept in his pant pockets. The room was small and white, the
carpeted floor stained beyond repair. A large window at the back overlooked the
campus grounds, dark trees complementing a single lonely streetlamp. Tyler's
book-filled desk stood in front of it all, a computer flanked by stacks of
comic books and adult novels, most of them being furry. Tyler flopped himself
onto the bed beside the desk, stripping his sneakers off before flinging his
coat onto the floor. Forcing himself into a fetal position, he hugged the
pillow and breathed heavily, tears fighting to come out of his eyes. Manuki. He couldn't get the fox, his fox, out of his mind. To throw that
persona away meant the death of his beloved imagination and the birth of a
long, long journey towards "proper" adulthood (if there ever was such a thing).
"Manuki," he breathed out, "I am sorry... that I had to put you down." He
squeezed his eyes shut, tears gushing out and wetting his eyelashes. "May you
rest in peace." After what seemed like hours of quiet
sobbing, a ringing sound came to Tyler's ears. Jerking his head up, he slowly
rose to sit on the edge of his bed, his hands groping in the darkness for the
sound's source. Suddenly, another ring emanated from the black, followed by the
distinctive green light of his phone. He had forgotten all day about his phone,
as he had left it sitting on the desk when he'd hurried to his first lecture in
the morning. With shaking hands, he grabbed the device, pushed the call button
and slowly brought it up to his ear."Hello?" He said it drowsily, rubbing his
free hand against one heavy eye. A youthful feminine voice greeted him back. It
was Carrie, his girlfriend of five years. They had first met back in eighth
grade. Initially, Tyler never wanted to tell Carrie about his interests because
he thought that he would be frowned upon. But as he started to know her more,
he found that she was very open-minded of unconventional concepts, regardless
of other's opinions. That realization was what drove him to bring a drawing of
Manuki to school one day. He could still remember Carrie's elated reaction upon
laying her eyes on his piece, as he was a very skilled artist for his age.
Since then, their friendship blossomed, carrying throughout high school and
into college. In fact, it was Carrie who would always come to conventions with
him, which showed that she highly respected and admired his artwork."You seem quiet," Carrie noted across the
line. "Is something bothering you?" Tyler closed his eyes, took a heavy breath
and opened them. "Yeah," he sighed,
before announcing, "I... I just threw Manuki away." There was a brief pause.
Then, Carrie spoke. "Wait, you mean your, um, "fursona" or
whatever you call him?""Yes.""Why?"
He sighed
again. He hadn't told her the reason yet. Doing so would surely break his
heart, his soul that craved fun, imagination and endless creativity. So he told
her that it was a long story. That he had a promise to talk to her about it
tomorrow. The two friends shared their goodbyes before he hung up. 
Tyler
Lutzmann let his phone drop onto the floor while he leaned against the wall,
his tears flowing completely now, wetting his hands, his sheets. It was going to
be a long night, and he wanted it to end immediately.
 "Out," cried
the shopkeeper, "out, out!" The man
of Indian descent shoved Manuki onto the sidewalk, his distaste apparent in his
widened eyes, framed by big thick-rimmed glasses. The fox looked back over his
shoulder and held out a paw, trying to form a protest with his muzzle. However,
the man clearly looked like he had other plans, as he promptly left the door
ajar. When it closed a second later, Manuki heaved himself to his feet and
immediately started to walk along, emitting a deep growl as he went. His hands
balled into fists as he recalled what had just happened. There he was, going
into the store for some clothes. He had just picked out an old clean jacket and
some denim shorts to buy. Then, he'd asked a lady shopping at the place if he
could borrow her money to purchase the items. That was when the shopkeeper
stormed in and exclaimed (in severely limited English) his aversion towards "beast-people",
resulting in Manuki's eventual shoving-out. The fact that the man insulted him
was highly bothering the fox at the moment. But it was not like he hadn't been offended before. Indeed, he
could recall one specific instant when, in his life as a garment, a group of
black-clad humans came walking by and called him names far worse than the
shopkeeper's taunt. The fox sighed. "Well," he muttered, "at
least he reminded me of how ignorant people can be sometimes." He sidestepped
onto the road without much thought. Besides,
he added in his mind, my main goal right
now is to blend into society so I can find--A quick flash of light caught the far
right side of his vision, accompanied by a false clicking sound. He stopped,
his bushy tail going rigid and stiff, before slowly turning his wide-eyed
visage towards the flash's direction. His mouth immediately went agape, as
before his eyes stood a short brunette he recognized as being his creator's
friend, a female by the name of Carrie Ashbury. "Holy crap," he heard her whisper. For what seemed like the longest time imaginable,
Carrie and Manuki stared at each other and said nothing else. The former
remained bewildered, even as she stored away her mobile device, while the
latter straightened his posture and relaxed his tail. Then, the fox marched up
to Carrie, stepping back onto the sidewalk, and said, "I'm happy that you
remember me."She looked at him with an air of confusion. "Um, no."
Her eyes traced the lean furry body until they met his vibrant eyes. "Wait..." The fox smiled at the oncoming
realization, watching as the sides of her mouth slowly but surely started to
quiver. "Are you," she questioned thinly, "my boyfriend's persona?""Yes," Manuki replied, "yes, I am." A smile spread
across his muzzle as he said those words, his tail gracefully lashing at the
air in happiness. The joy ceased to last, however, as Carrie quickly tore
herself away from the canine, turning her back to him. "Carrie..." He put a paw
on her shoulder. "Carrie," he said again, "I know this is hard to believe, but
I came back to find your friend, who in essence is my creator." He emphasized the last point with a paw to his chest. "Besides,"
he continued, crouching on his feet pads next to her, "we have both known you to be quite the wide-open
human being." He offered his hand towards her. "So, with that out of the way," he diverted, "can you promise to show me the
ropes so that I can see him again?" Carrie stared down at the appendage that invited her,
a hybrid of hand and canine paw, and the tips of each finger ending in sharp
black claws that glinted in the light. She then gazed at the fox's calm
expression, his eyes showing a sentient form of deep care and understanding.
Smiling, she slid her hand into his. "Alright, Manuki," she promised, "I'll try
to do that."His happiness swarmed back into him, and as he sprung
back up onto his feet, he had thoughts of finally seeing his creator again, of
becoming one with the human race, with a proper life to call his own. He
clapped his paws together and turned to Carrie, a contented purr-like noise
emanating from his throat. "Thank you, Carrie," he acknowledged, before asking
her, "Do you have any clothing for men
at your place, by any chance?" She looked at his whiskered face with a disappointed
frown and shook her head. "No," she answered, "but I can get some if you want."
The canine nodded, watching her turn around to face him. "Want to go?""Okay," said Manuki, "sure." They started to walk
together, side by side, down the dark footway, the supple fox's tail bobbing in
the air with each step. A minute later, the duo were waiting for traffic to
cease, and as they stood on that desolate rounded cement corner, the fox told
the woman that she needed scissors and a roll of measuring tape with his
clothes. "What for?""My tail. Y'know, for the tail-hole." 
She giggled, said, "Okay," and crossed the street
with the fox, a street that just happened to feature a superstore on the other
side. Manuki read the name and gulped. Here
we go, he pondered, another outing,
this time at the big store. He pushed such doubts away before entering.
Thus, the quest for anthropomorphic civility in San Francisco had begun, and
Manuki was to be its main focus.
            A
tiny jangling tune awoke Tyler from his sleep, its miniature cacophony pulling
him out of the veil of dreams. He started to rise, rubbing his bleary eyes, until
he caught sight of his phone lying on the floor. The blinking of its message
alert light prompted him to sit up completely on the edge of the bed. He
plucked the device off of the floor and pressed its central trackball. A screen
alighted in front of him, splashing his face in artificial glow. On it, a
message showed, one from Carrie, containing a single image file. He scrolled
down and clicked on it.            His
mind paused in incomprehension. There, frozen in time amid dark yellows and
blacks stood an anthropomorphic fox, its muscles lithe and lanky, the one ear
of its narrow-muzzled profile cocked straight at the camera. It stood quite
bent over on its hybrid legs, as if--he, Tyler
corrected--were ready to spring forward in attack. Tyler separated his eyes
away, blinked them and then returned to the image. It was still there.             Has someone got a hold of my fursuit already?            He
was thinking of sending that thought in message form back to Carrie when the
phone jingled again. Suddenly, a text indicator notice pulled up on the bottom
of the screen. He scrolled past the photo and clicked on it. A text message,
plain and simple, sent from Carrie: FYI,
Manuki is real.             There
was that name again. Tyler laid back against the wall in skepticism. He had
just thrown his suit out many hours before; how else could he explain its resurgence
other than having a new owner? He thought of Carrie's text message, its simple words
attempting to inform him of an impossible arising that he doubted even
happened. But then again, his mind had the capacity to imagine such things, as
evidenced by the art that he used to create just a few months prior. Regardless
of this, he was still unconvinced. As he lifted the phone and typed out his
doubts to her, he was hoping she'd admit the whole thing to be a hoax.             Time
stretched out as Tyler waited, rubbing his unshaven beard in impatience. Then,
the tune sounded. He read the message. Ty, he read silently,
I swear to god, nobodys wearing your fur-suit. He's a living thing now. He inhaled heavily, stifling a chuckle as he did so. Carrie, he typed back, you can't be serious. He let his phone
rest on the seat of his thigh, bouncing it with his leg. Two alerts sounded,
one after the other. Sighing, Tyler studied the new messages. One was a text
and the other seemed to be a video. "Hm," he droned briefly. He read the text
first.I am, babe, it read, he was
talking to me when I saw him. Don't worry I didnt believe him either, until he
convinced me. We went to W-M to pick out his clothes. If you still don't
believe me, I have a video of it.Which was, he saw now, the clip below. Hesitation
gripped him for a second, the feeling of disbelief still fresh in his head.
However, the screenshot behind the play button was promising, as it displayed
the same white canid from the picture, his back and bushy tail to the camera,
flanked to the right by rows of colored socks. As far as Tyler could tell,
there seemed to be no telltale signs that the form was a suit, as the fox's
delicately shaped back had nary a zipper to be seen. His eyebrows arched down
in befuddlement. That's pretty... weird.
He scrolled down and activated the clip, and it sprung to life.The fox, walking in front of the shakily held camera,
is telling Carrie about his dressing references as they advance past the rows
of cheap socks, avoiding the alarmed looks of shoppers around them. "I prefer nice colors," he tells her, "and also fine
scents, too." His voice is slightly nasal and decidedly medium-pitched. When
Carrie questions the fox's latter interest, he laughs a yip-like sound and
flicks his tail to the right. "I'm a fox," he replies, "remember?" He scratches
the back of his skull, his right ear flicking briefly, as they head into the
shirt section. The camera stops shaking at this point as it focuses on the canine
scanning through the various shirts hung in the aisle. He pauses for a moment
to address the camera, his green eyes succinctly reflecting the lights of the
store. "Carrie," he asks, holding up a clawed paw, "can you please stop filming
me? It's embarrassing." His face shows his irritation, with furrowed brows and
a straight scowl across his muzzle. Carrie begins to explain her purpose behind
the filming, but a young boy darting into the scene interrupts her. The child
is perhaps the age of four, and he is clutching Manuki's tail, grasping at the
fluffy fur before him. "Look," Carrie says, "there's someone behind you." The fox straightens himself, looking at the camerawoman
with an expectant glare. Then a pointing hand darts into the left side of the
frame. Manuki follows her lead, eventually seeing the child behind him. A smile
forms across his short snout as their eyes meet. He turns around and crouches
down next to the kid, still beaming. He offers the youngster a high-five, to
which the boy happily accepts. They talk a while, the camera shaking a little at
times, before the boy's mother comes. She stops in shock at the fox hanging out
with her son, but the canid assures himself to be of no harm. The mother asks
her son for a picture with him and he innocuously agrees. "Alright," Carrie announces, stilling the
camera, "say cheese!" After a second,
she realizes she has the wrong setting, and the video ends abruptly, mother,
boy and fox together behind the replay button.For a slight second, Tyler's gaze remained fixed on
the image, its preternaturalness blanking out his mind. A severe lack of rest
had left him completely lethargic and emotionless. He was certain that if he
were to lie on his side, his consciousness would travel into darkness. Not so fast now, he thought, she's probably gonna' reply...
...And she did. So,
do you want to meet him tomorrow? After 9? 
Tyler sighed. He was on his back now, his eyes
feeling heavy and ready to close. His thumbs could barely move, but he managed
to type out "yes" in lowercase letters before dozing off, his dreams forming
the faces of foxes and nothing else.
            The
distant singsong of birds stirred Manuki awake. His highly perceptive sense of
hearing spotted them out as he rolled onto his back, his eyes glaring up at the
wood-boarded ceiling of the guest bedroom. He had found Carrie's house to be an
adequate piece of space to stay in, much cleaner in contrast to the cluttered
floors and walls of his former home. The proprietor herself had been grateful
enough to provide food, clothes and bedding for him, and he'd been all the more
obliged for his fortune that night. As he got up, he became conscious of his
tail, alive with the feeling of content and joy. He caught sight of a mirror to
his right and smiled, his homo-vulpine form staring back. She helped
me a lot, he reminisced, and I truly respect her for that. Then,
he shook his head and murmured, "What a fine, fine human being." With a newfound spring to his feet, the fox rose,
glad for his friendly hospitality. He began to grope for his new clothes that
Carrie had brought him the previous night: a cream-colored polo shirt and some
light denim shorts, the latter having been modified to allow his tail passage
and movement. The faint, airy scent of the shorts hit him as he slid them on,
recalling his brushes with fame at the superstore merely hours after he'd first
gained consciousness. The shocked looks people had given him were a fortunate
downgrade from his brief detour at Goodwill, but they were still reminders of
how much humanity outright loathed hybrids like him, Carrie and his creator
excepted. He grasped his shirt and pulled it on, eliciting more memories; this
time of the young boy he'd met that night. He had marveled at the youngster's
curiosity, the pure, innocent fearlessness that seemed to escape the minds of
most adult humans. If only I could remember
what his name was...Suddenly, a new scent found its way to the fox, meaty
yet overwhelmingly flavorful, with a hint of smokiness. His stomach rumbled,
and he found himself at the bottom of the stairwell in a moment's time. He
looked around the grand, spacious living room, a wooden-floored area that
included a small kitchen at its very back. His nose could clearly feel the
scent now, as it was richer and more powerful than ever. He let it carry him to
the table with a saliva-coated tongue, barely noticing the form of Carrie
working hard on her guest's meal. "Good morning, Manuki," Carrie said. She continued to
cook on the stove, flipping a pancake with a scraper. The fox sat himself
slowly and cautiously for the sake of his tail, and then looked across at the
young female, readying his muzzle as he did so. "Morning." He gave her a slight smile, crossing his
arms on the limestone table. "How are you?" Carrie turned around with the pan
and provided Manuki a simple ceramic plate. "I'm fine, thanks," she replied,
fishing out two brown soft pancakes and three strips of bacon onto his platter.
"I just have to go to class in an hour." Manuki nodded and then started on his
breakfast, as the scent of the meal was too invigorating for the fox to ignore.
Carrie giggled as she watched her guest from the sink, clearly amused by his
eagerness and his happily twitching tail. When he had completed his meal,
Carrie fetched his plate and utensils and announced, "You have a very special
person coming here at nine." For a second, the fox forgot the time. But then he
saw the clock hanging on the wall behind him. The hands were close to reading
8:25. With an air of blank comprehension, he turned back to Carrie (who had by
now begun work on the dishes) and asked, "Who is it?" He thought he had sensed
a smile from the young woman, because her answer truly hinted at an approaching
greatness: "It's a surprise. You'll know when you see him." Manuki's previously flattened ears perked up. "Really?"
He stared at her wide-eyed. "It's not my creator, is it?" Carrie sighed before
storing away the finished plates. "Well, you're probably right," she said, stealing a
glance at him, "but let's just pretend it's a secret, okay?" Manuki shrugged greatly, raising up a paw before
letting it drop onto the table. "Alright," he agreed, "Seems fine to me." It actually wasn't fine to Manuki (as he dearly wished to see his creator again)
but he also did not want to spoil Carrie's offer. "Manuki," she inquired him,
"what does the time say?" He looked back over his shoulder at the clock, then
to Carrie beside him. "It's, uh, around nine," he responded, adding, "You have
to get ready, correct?" Her eyes went wide at his reminder. "Oh," she said, "yes,
I do." 
Manuki watched as she quickly snatched up her pile of
supplies from the coffee table that faced the TV. With all of her materials
under one arm, she approached the fox, telling him about the uses of the
television remote (Big red power button, he
repeated mentally) and the location of drinks if needed (Inside the fridge, bottom right). Manuki nodded at her suggestions,
his tail swishing nonchalantly. 
"So, I'll see you later?"

"Yep," she said, flinging open the door, "at eleven,
alright?" Manuki nodded as the door shut with a short click. 
After a minute of standing still, he decided to get
himself a drink, as his canine tongue was dying of thirst. His mind was at a
crossroads as he scoured the bottom row of beverages. Do I taste one of those flavors, he pondered, eyeing the soft
drinks, or do I stick to water? He
rubbed his whiskers in thought.
"Meh," he
murmured, "I'll stick to water." Just as his paw was ready to grab the clear
plastic jug, he heard the door open, his ears swiveling back to catch the
sound. Then a familiar voice called, masculine and unmistakable. Manuki rose up
and turned around slowly, his instincts becoming aware of who the visitor was. When
his eyes finally fell upon the man and his orange-hued bangs, the arctic fox
broke into a wide, beaming grin and said (with great exhilaration), "And so we meet."
            Tyler
just couldn't get his mouth closed. Try as hard as he might, but he just could not, because what was in front of
him far exceeded his expectations placed upon the video. Here was a living,
breathing version of his character standing right across Carrie's island table.
The fact that this was happening in reality (and not, say, in many of the
novels he'd read) boggled Tyler's mind greatly. As the cream-and-blue clad arctic fox sauntered over
to him, he tried to piece together words, phrases
that he could say to his creation. However, his mind was all a mess as the fox
embraced him, the whiskers of his character's taper-snouted visage brushing his
cheek. Tyler suddenly realized that he'd breathing laboriously, so he slowed
his breath down and shut his eyes. Slowly but steadily, he picked up his arms,
reached under the cloth and felt Manuki's smooth pelt. So soft. The fox murred in contentment, a soft rumbling sound,
as Tyler buried his face in one well-rounded shoulder. The two suddenly broke
away and stared for a second, the moment becoming tepidly awkward. Then, Manuki
clasped his padded hands together and spoke. "Well, are you going to say something, or what?" The fox looked over at Carrie's
refrigerator. "I was just going to have a drink of water..." Tyler watched as his former fox opened the fridge
door, staring blankly at the morph's fluffy tail. He wondered how his family
would be able to accept the presence of such a creature. After all, his father had been the one who persuaded
him to discard the fursuit for a real paid job. But now, upon discovering that
the fursuit had quite literally sprung to life, Tyler was beginning to question
his prospects of employment. He could imagine scenes before him, Manuki
disrupting his work, his future boss quarreling with the fox before tossing the
canine out, awkward conversations at home...The
emotion was too much. Tyler bent down over the table nearest to him and rested
his head against his crossed arms, sobbing loudly. He heard the door slam
before feeling fur against his shirt. Manuki's face awaited him with concern. "Go away,"
Tyler mumbled, his eyes still on the wood of the island. The fox's ears drew back in disappointment. My creator was never supposed to be like
this. He set the glass aside, then placed his paw onto the man's hand,
rubbing it gently. "My dear creator," he crooned, "please. This isn't you. You
wouldn't reject me. You wouldn't--""This isn't about me,"
the man interjected harshly, "it's about my future
and how you are going to screw it all
up!" Manuki's jaw hung incredulously. "No," the fox breathed, "I'm not going to
screw it all up. I just--""No," his creator retorted, "you are!" The man was furious, his mouth clenched tight under glaring
eyes. "You're gonna' be a distraction,"
he continued, "a mind-numbing distraction!
Why," the man rattled off, "I can't even see myself having a job now, because I have to take care of
some stupid frickin'--" 
A knock on the door interrupted Tyler's tirade. Him
and Manuki exchanged glances, and then it opened. A cacophony of chatter and
flashing cameras ensued a middle-aged lady, formally dressed, one hand
clutching a reporter's microphone. She regarded Tyler with a nod before turning
to Manuki, who was watching in wonder at the boom being set up near Carrie's
TV. She snapped her fingers to draw the fox's attention. "Standing beside me,"
the reporter began, "is the world's first bipedal talking fox. Manuki,"--she turned
her attention to him--"how does that make you feel?" The fox searched around the
room, then stopped at the camera. On its side read the grand red letters of
CNN. He gulped and placed his muzzle closer to the microphone. "Well, first of
all," he said, "how do you know my name?"
            "All
in all," Manuki concluded briskly, "the interview went around fine." The arctic
fox was now sitting at a patio table looking out over the sparkling blue waters
of the San Francisco pier, flanked on both sides by Tyler and Carrie. Across
from the trio sat Tyler's father (a well-built man with graying hair and thin
glasses) and mother (a blond woman with a knack for flamboyance). When the two
parties had met, they'd greeted Manuki with a civility that shocked his creator
considerably, but the fox just smiled, glad for his respect to be honored among
humans. Now, as the group sat waiting for their drinks in silence, there seemed
to be a peculiar air of a coming spectacle. Manuki couldn't place what it was,
but his vulpine ears sensed the conversations happening inside, some rushed,
others placidly skeptical. It was as oppressive as the solar heat that warmed
his back and forced his tongue out, silently niggling at the edges of his
conscience. Immediately, a man stepped out of the doors calling his name. The
canine noticed him right away. "Excuse me for a moment," he announced,
regarding his friends, "I'll be right back." He jogged to the entranceway,
stopping near the man. He wore the standard black work uniform of the restaurant,
which contrasted his fair appearance. "Come inside," he said. Manuki followed
him in, conscious of his many onlookers, and seated himself in the bar. The
people to his left and right had their eyes glued to the televisions, unmoving
in stillness. He began to ask the man of the reason for his withdrawal, but
then he picked up familiar words from the broadcast: "...of these creatures have been spotted throughout the West, including
this latest discovery: a vixen, human-like like the others, found living in
Twin Falls, Idaho." He looked up......And dropped his jaw in wonder. It was a vixen, like
the reporter had said, but her fur was a striking red, and orange head-fur hung
about her eyes in curved bangs. A shoulder bumped him out of his trance,
belonging to a burly, scruffily bearded man in a hanging tank top. "Hey," he drawled, "how you like 'er, eh? You think
she's a cutie?" Color flushed under Manuki's eyes for the first time.
He didn't want to admit it, but he had a special fondness for vixens, and this
one was very... appealing to him. Reasons
floated around in his head, all of them rendered indiscernible by his
embarrassment. How can I
tell my crea--Tyler--about this? "I have to... go,"
he told the bartender uneasily. He rushed out to the patio and hastily returned
to his seat, rapidly smoothing out his tail amid his heart's frantic beating. A
hand touched him to his right. It was Tyler.  "W-What's going on? Why are you nervous?"Manuki panted a few breaths before glaring at his
creator. "I-I think I've found a potential mate," he spurted out, "so I need
you to help me hook up with her."                      

Source: https://sofurry.com/view/850861