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This is yet another work of furotic fiction by me David Bennett, aka Damion St. James. By now you should be used to knowing my usual warnings and notices about characters being all my own, and the story being unsuitable for some audiences.

This story contains M/M sexual contact, incest, and implied pedophilia. If this offends you in any light, please do not read any more.

If you have any comments, email me at [email protected] , or post on yiffstar's forum.

And I'm back Kit, here comes another!

(Alex Fletcher Created by Kooshmeister)

* * *

"Reunions"

There was a sound of lubricated metal sliding against metal, and the hiss of hydraulics. The pair stood at the 5 foot thick door that was meant to keep them safe. Soon it would swing open and they wouldn't be as safe. One might get the impression they were entering some mad scientists lab, or preparing to enter some sort of top secret government facility. Or another stretch of the imagination would be that they had entered some sort of chemical weapons center. While they were not quite entering anything so dramatic, the state mental ward wasn't much better than the previous places.

For one, he felt out of place. He figured he was one of the last people that would visit a place like this. Maybe in years past he would have been put IN one for his sexual deviances, but not nowadays.

For the other, it was all in the job. He came here often, more so in the past than now. He'd come in to extract information for a case, or just make a sex-crime victim feel a bit better. Today as the door opened, he then led the other down the hallway that followed with him.

Like in the movies, everything was white. It robbed the soul of the feeling that there was anything normal outside these walls. It was sterile, devoid of anything you could cherish. It chilled my bones...

"What?"

"I don't like it here." I said

"You've been visiting Asher for 3 months now in the hospital. I would think that places like these wouldn't bother you so much."

I scoffed. "Hospitals have colors, people walking around, carpeted floors, prayer time at noon, more people. This is so quiet, and I must say that this is the last place I ever imagined I'd end up. When you told me you were my father I thought YOU were insane. Just between you and me, this little jaunt you've organized isn't helping."

The fox next to me sighed. "If I would have had any other way to introduce myself to you I would have."

I rolled my eyes, "And standing in a nearly-nude speedo at a body building competition was a real prime choice locale I imagine?"

"Damnit Renee, I know you don't really know me but trust me, I waited over 20 years for the right moment. It's never easy."

"I heard you've been waiting a long time, your partner the panther told me. Obsess much?"

"You're my child, I wanted to follow your progress, as any parent should."

"You were looking over my shoulder my whole life. Think on that; in 20 plus years you found no convenient time? There was no inkling somewhere along that line that told you that maybe you should have stepped in?"

Ritch groaned as he pointed for me to turn round a corner and walk down another corridor. I turned and followed; why I still do not know to this day. Ever since that body building competition, my life has turned even further inside out - up heaved and thrust near sexually into chaos and disorder. I count the recent events that have made my live more "interesting" lately - the murder of my adoptive parents, the earthquake, getting locked in the elevator with the priest, and most recently the revelation that I have a son and Asher's attempted murder.

"It is not always...easy...introducing yourself to someone, especially your child. I have no previous experience rearing children, and I would not know what to do with you, or have known what to do with you. Better I suppose to have met as adults, than to have taken you when I was unworthy and misraised you - damaged you in some way like I damaged my life. Renee be glad that YOUR son is only 10, it will not be as hard for you I don't thik."

I swished my tail and rolled my eyes in an "I knew you'd say that" way. "Like father like son."

"Excuse me?"

"I said like father like son."

"I thought that was what your said," Ritch groaned and whipped his brow. "I explained to you that I got shot? I told you that I was in a coma for over a year yes? You were born during that time. I found out you were born when I woke up. I just never really knew the right way to approach you."

I stopped and pointed at him. "Otto Barton's. Otto-fucking-Barton's would have been a perfect time. I had never felt so bad as I did when I was there. I felt the whole world had abandoned me then. I felt as if I was naked in a dark oubliette and the walls were pressing in. NOW...now I've finally got a great life going and I find out YOU'VE been looking over my shoulder like some kind of stalker. The right way to approach me..."

"Now I'd hardly consider it stalking."

I raised a brow and folded my arms as we walked. "We're going in circles you know, no not this walk I mean this conversation. Lets break it down; I guess if I started going through every FBI file on you and put pictures of you all over my apartment and put videos on my computer, and kept my newspaper clippings as wallpaper for my bathroom, you wouldn't consider that weird? Least I'd do something about it."

Ritch shook his head and ran a hand over his short hair. "This is why I wanted to wait for the right moment." He said, as if he was only thinking it this time rather than saying it.

I chuckled cynically, "Not really an option now is it?" I said as we stopped in front of a door marked "VISITATION". I knew what was going to go down, but was no more prepared for it than when "daddy" spilled the beans at the muscle man show. To say I "shat a brick" wouldn't cover what I felt. Once more my world as I knew it was in the cosmic blender.

If you've seen any good movie featuring a visitation room, it was just like that: a row of windows, chairs, telephones, and guards all over.

"I think I'll stick with you." Ritch said softly.

My tone changed from that of argument, to curiosity. "Why?"

He held himself still. "You'll see."

I actually was sure that I wouldn't, but he ushered me in. The guard, a large pit bull whom must have been chewing steroid-laced gum since he had teeth, offered me the seat on the end of the visitation block. I sat down in a gabby 1970's chair that looked as uncomfortable as it was. My tail was protesting the position I had to sit in. The chair was one of those chairs that forced good posture, and took the holes out of the back so your tails weren't laying on the floor to be stepped on. Top that all off with a color that I couldn't tell if it was orange or green covering the most of it, and you had one uncomfy fox.

I squirmed for a few moments, trying to find the best position for this chair. To the pit bull it might have looked like I had a bad case of hemorrhoids or something, but I gathered that enough people do "the dance of the 1970's manufactured chair from hell", that he tuned it out and was off in his own little world. I looked at my reflection in the glass. My hair, at Rowdy's hands, had fallen victim to corn row braids. Despite the style, the braids still went to the middle of my shoulder blades. I wore a simple purple "You Can't Say That on Television!" T-shirt. Hot Topics was always a great place for nostalgic T-shirts. What I was seeing as a kid, kids are frolicking in as if it was something new. Below the waist I wore some white women's pants that could pass for men's, but on me the waistline came well below the navel and showed off some of my pubic area. I was going commando today to make the look better. I had also slid on a few new platinum bracelets Neil had bought me as an anniversary gift.

My gold earnings had been replaced with platinum ones, gives from Geoff and Trevor for helping them discover their acceptance of one another's mutual want to have sex with one another...go figure...

My inverted cross pendant had been replaced with the satanic sigil, very LeVay like. I missed the cross, but this new religious "bling" was nice. It felt good. I had on this rather slick red bra underneath my T-shirt. I was toying with the idea of getting breast implants, or trying "boob-a-day" pills, pills that would give you boobs for 2 hours. I was only toying with it so far mind you, I was so enraptured by the idea of having them in fantasy, I wondered if it would go over well if I got the real things. I wondered what the guys would think. Neil thought the idea was insane, but he'd love me regardless.

Ritch was an older version of me. Obviously male traits passed down the gene pool better than the mother's in this family. Ritch and I had some differences, but to most anyone they could tell we were related. He wore tight jeans, a black sportcoat, and a black business shirt underneath. His FBI badge and ID were worn on a neck chain. He wore his glass eye because apparently the eyepatch disturbed some patients. The eye looked normal, but he hated having it visible cause it sometimes wandered all over the place. I learned a bit about him in the few times we've spoken since the bodybuilding contest.

Then, before I knew it, a woman was sat in front of me, behind the glass that is. As I saw her, I was reminded a little of Linda Hamilton in the Terminator 2. She looked so strong, and yet so frail. She had some muscles, like Hamilton, but most everything was skin and bones on her, and fragile looking. Her hair was stringy as if it hadn't been washed properly. I doubted that she would get a proper shower in an establishment such as she was in, for her safety as well as the safety of others.

Her eyes were tired, far away. As if she didn't see me. She had a glaze to her eyes that hinted at sedatives...strong ones. I'd seen that look in Chong many times. She was either freshly doped, or coming down from a fix.

She drooled.

An orderly on the other side of the screen whispered in her ear and whipped her chin. Her eyes suddenly gained coherence and malice as she turned to the orderly and gave him a dirty look, her lips moved but I couldn't hear what was being said, the glass was soundproof, or at least sound tempered.

When the two had discussed whatever they were discussing, they held the phone to the vixen's ears. She had my eyes I thought as I picked up the phone. There was only the sound of the faintest breathing coming from the other end. I wondered if the volume was low, but when she spoke, I realized that was just how quiet she was drawing breath.

"-the fuck you want?" She said, sternly, harshly, and with a southern accent so thick you felt like you needed a shower afterwards. I blinked and attempted to speak, but she beat me to it again. "More importantly, who the fuck are you? I was asleep..."

I stammered, the anger and frustration I felt with Ritch melted away, different emotions swam through me with this woman. I kept trying to speak, but nothing came out.

"What you doing here with that?" She said with a gesture to Ritch. "You his new faggot? You like sucking his cock huh? You like having him in your ass?"

"ENOUGH!" Ritch bellowed behind me. It almost made me jump. It did make the woman jump, but only in her eyes.

"You tell that old pile of horse shit I done seen him already this year, and I don't be needin to see him again."

I stammered something.

"Gee, he sure picks him out dumber each time..."

Ritch shook his head. "Don't let what she says get to you, talk to her."

The woman behind the screen mocked Ritch in gibberish, and then looked at me. "You never answered my question jailbait. Answer me...I'm on a lot of meds and they don't let me out much."

"I'm Renee Morningstar..." I finally managed to say.

The older vixen cackled a dry laugh, that reminded me of Phyllis Dyller. "Course you are. You're the faggot that's making millions off the fact you like taking cock in the butt. Mr. Big porn star now a big real movie star...I liked it better when the girls round the wing would pass scraps of your dirty magazines round and we'd love to stuff 'em up inside ourselves, pretend they were the real you. We all thought we'd be the one to tern ya right. But aint no chance of that is there?, yer as crooked as a politician aint ya?"

I started to feel more anger building, but not much. "Yeah, I'm gay, but what's that to you?"

She shifted in her chair. "Nothing much, just reasons to push buttons. Why would that miserable excuse for pigs vomit bring an actor like you to come and see me. I won some sorta contest? Publisher's nuthouse? Or somefen like that? Come on, speak up, you're gawkin at me like ya never seen me before yeah fine, but don't look at me like I'm some sorta ghost."

"You are a ghost."

"Excuse me boy? Whatdja just-"

"I said you are a ghost. You're someone I knew was around somewhere, but never was sure existed."

"Boy you might want to try bein on this side of the glass fer a while, you don't sound much better than the girls on this wing."

Ritch finally spoke, as if he'd been choking on something. "Carol...I'd never allow you two to get any closer to one another than you are now. Not in a thousand years."

She made another mocking face and leaned in, her breasts hung out of her loose hospital top. There were...like a car wreck - repulsive yet I couldn't get away. I doubt she intended to show them, but...that was the last thing I wanted to see. "Aw are you afraid I might get a little physical with the movie star? Might make ya more money if you do a straight porn with me jailbait."

Ritch snarled. "Not of you want the title of the movie to be 'inmate incest'."

The woman blinked and the orderly moved around her to adjust her shirt so it covered her. She let the orderly do it as she slumped back into her chair, and just stared at us.

"What is he talking about jailbait?"

"My name isn't Jailbait, its Renee Morningstar-Simonsen. And look very closely at me, cause the last time you saw me I was face down in a toilet."

She looked around as if searching. "You remind me of a fox I dated a few years ago, but he had different markings, and he had a bad stomach from a wound from Desert Storm, you're too young for that..."

I put a hand on the glass. "Imagine a much...much...smaller fox, floating face down in a toilet, maybe only a few minutes old."

* * *

There was about an hour period where mother had passed out, fainting from the shock, but when she was conscious enough, they brought her back. This time they used a wall of glass room, so we could both stand and see one another. Microphones and speakers transmitted our voices. Ritch watched from a room that was a monitoring room for both viewing cells, behind the one way glass.

She paced her cell, and she had a noticeable limp on her left leg. Her tail had been cropped off, policy for prisons now. Tails can be used as weapons, and suicide devices if they were long enough. From the front, she wore a shirt that had a low V cut, it went to her knees. If she wore anything else, I didn't know or want to know. My guess was not, and that she was probably isolated most of the time. She was a foot shorter than me, and Ritch as I had mentioned was taller. Interesting that the male was the taller.

She had looked me over, and over, and over. It was as if she was sampling a meal, or looking at something she was picking apart, or she was undressing me with her mind. No comfort came from the look on her face. I almost wanted to hear her say "Why hallo Clarice.." or "Quid pro quo" or some shit like that. I wanted to piss myself actually, just to give myself something to do other than stand there and be weighed and measured. At least the familiar and pleasantly warm sensation of my own urine running down my legs would be a deterrent from the now calculating eyes of the woman I once emerged from.

I was the one who finally spoke first.

"Why?"

"Cause I could."

"But...why?"

"Cause I could, and I didnna want ya." She said as she stood face to face with me, separated by six inches of glass.

I shook my head. "That's not a good reason. Why did you try to kill me?"

She never even blinked or thought about her answers, it was as if she had somewhere prepared this interview in her head, it was scary. "Because I never said I wanted a kid. I said I'd think about one, and I never agreed. Then your cocksucking father knocked me up and I didn't have a choice."

"If you say you didn't have a choice, why didn't you keep me?"

"Cause like I said, I didnna want ya. I diddna want to do no 3 am feedings, I sure as hell aint gonna change no diapers, and I've got more important things to do than raise some no-good kid."

I gritted my teeth, and stamped my foot. Yeah it was a childish gesture, but I was feeling very small right there. "You didn't have to let dad stick it in you if you were so hell bent on not having kids."

"And turn down some of the best sex I've ever had? Boy somebody raised you wrong. All life is, is sex and the pursuit of more sex, and surviving on the side so you can get more sex - least this should sound familiar to someone with your career and lifestyle choices."

I opened my mouth to argue but realized if I said anything contrary she'd have me. Satan help me, I think one of your minions got loose...

"Well, life is also about accepting responsibility for what you do." I said in a lower tone.

"Boy, don't you DARE tell your mamma about responsibility. I took the initiative in taking the responsibility. Since your father made you, and he wanted you, but he went and got himself shot, I took the responsibility of relieving his burden."

"What about his right to decide if I lived?" I asked calmly.

She scoffed. "What about MY right to choose?! It's always about HIS right, HIS baby, needless to say I carried you for 9 agonizing months of my life. If I had my choice I'd have aborted you when I had the chance, but of course your father over there would have nothing of it."

"And he was right not to let you..."

She snarled. "What would you know about children? Huh? What would you know about making babies? I don't think we sleep on the same side of the bed if you catch my drift."

I turned my back on her, the sight of her starting to repulse me. I still felt young, like a child, wanting to beg mommy to pick me up and hold her, to clutch me to her chest, to tell me things would be alright and to whisper sweet reassuring things to me. I wanted mommy to be mommy, not some psychotic bitch behind 6 inches of protective glass.

"I know what it's like."

She laughed, it sounded rehearsed, or as if she had used it on other people. "I highly doubt that Renee, you're the biggest piece of jailbait I've ever seen walkin. I might have a go at you myself, but that'd prolly be all the pussy west of the Nile you'd ever get."

I tried not to shudder. "No, I've had a child."

She laughed again. "How? You discover a way to get a man pregnant?"

Ritch's voice came over the intercom. "No, he's telling the truth. Your cellmate across the hallway, the satanic vixen you often converse with is the mother of his child."

Her smile faded, I could see it as I turned around. "How..."

I shrugged. "I'm satanic. In a way I live like you. I just don't really give a fuck about most anything except those things that matter most to me. I don't have real guilt. When I was younger, I gave myself sexually to a group of older teenage boys, let them use me for their pedophile urges and rituals. I LOVED every second of it..." I paused and lifted my shirt. "They gave me this tattoo, to forever mark me as theirs and to mark me as a true servant of Lucifer." I lowered the shirt. "Part of this is a willing bisexuality, a willingness to use or be used by either sex as part of different acts. In one such act, the vixen...I guess she lives across the hall from you...acted as our 'altar'. I fucked her. I made her pregnant."

She stared at me, and drooled again, this time whipping her own mouth.

"I had no clue he was around, the opposite of Ritch. I had no clue he existed until just recently. Ritch followed my every movement, step, and possibly cleaned up after me when I made a mess my whole life. With me and my child it was the complete opposite. She tried to take care of her kid as best as she could. She worked shitty jobs, shacked up with abusive men, and finally ultimately was going to sacrifice my kid to Satan so that he could live a better life. Up till that moment, she was a better mother to my kid than you ever were to me. You...gave up - no I take that back you didn't give up you didn't even try. You never once even held me in your arms I bet."

She spat on the window. "Ye hush up boy! Thingser different then. You think it was a peach tree back in the day when you popped outta me? You think I was jumpin for joy cause yer father had to go and become this vigilante FBI agent and get himself shot in the head? I didn't have any money sept his pension to keep me livin. You think I was ready to feed 2 helpless mouths when I couldn't feed mine? Hell no. Ifin I coulda, I'd a pulled both yer plugs, cashed in on the insurance, and moved back to Florida where I belong."

I stood closer to the glass, years of anger starting to build. I was still a kid in my mind, but I was an angry kid. It was not as easy to yell at mother as it was father for some reason. I don't know why. Must be a masculine thing...ick.

"Florida? I wouldn't wish you on them for the world. You're not even really worthy of this prison you got yourself thrown in. They take care of you here. You should be left alone in the world , away from anything that might nurture your need for socialization. You should be locked in a dark little hole with no light or sound, nothing soft to comfort you, then you will understand what life is really about and how precious life really is. I am more than just a collection of sinew, muscles, fluids and cells. I am a living being. Weather your too much of a bitch or not to realize it you did something over 20 years ago that created life. That is why you should have ascended to a level that we beings have ascended to. The ability to create life and to cherish that which we create. But you are no better than the cats and the dogs that fuck in the gutter. You overpopulate and don't accept the grave situation around you cause you're too busy making more babies." I said as I turned my head away, watching the spit slide down the glass was kinda gross.

"I thought about you for years...mother...I thought about you late at night, and wondered what kind of a woman you were. I used to daydream you were this beautiful lady who baked cookies and drove kids to soccer rallies, or some kind of sunset strip model...like something glamorous that every man looked up to. I never thought you'd be some psyco white trash, trailer hitch, country bumpkin, cum guzzling, Courtney Love wanna be slut. You are nothing like I imagined."

She cackled behind the glass. "You think I care about your PRECIOUS little fantasies? You think I care what little you thought what big mamma was all about back in the day? I was beautiful, I was a bake cookies sunset strip beauty, but that fucker behind the glass had to go change all of that with his demon sperm."

This time I laughed. It was kind of a pet name for my cum amongst the guys back at the apartment. "Demon sperm? So now he's the evil one?" I shook my head and walked towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

I turned my head and looked at her, narrowing my eyes. "You forget, I'm a celebrity and an upstanding member of society. I have the ability to leave this room if I want, when I want. If I want to go out for ice cream and sodas with that demon behind the glass, I can. Why? Because I didn't try to kill my child. Just remember this image as you're sitting in your cell, The child you FAILED to kill, walking way, and giving you his back, to go on to a life that was more successful than you could ever dream of."

With that...exited the room.

* * *

It wasn't quite going "out", more going to the cafeteria for hospital food. As I sat there, holding my sub-par burger with the best damn ketchup I've ever had dripping off of it, I stared across the picnic style table to the man whom was my father. He was staring back at me. I felt like I was looking at an age'o matic mirror. With the exception of our tats being much different, different hair styles, difference in eyes, and the fact there was over 20 years difference between us, we were pretty much the same. He had the same burger, the same fries, but he took a cola when I took a clear soda.

"So...you've taken me out...does this mean we're dating now?" Ritch asked with a straight face. I didn't know if it was his attempt at humor, or a not so subtle attempt to ask if we were on speaking terms.

"I hardly consider this taking someone out. The fact we still have more visitations to do here and elsewhere is getting under my skin. However, I'm becoming a bit less angry with you."

Ritch shook his head. "What more can I do? I said I was sorry, and even allowed you to come and confront your mother. You realize that she technically IS confined to solitary? She only gets let out for solitary exercise and for our yearly visits. It took a court intervention to get you that visit, and that's my 'I'm sorry' gift to you."

I bit into my burger. The meat itself wasn't bad, it just could have been cooked better. Sparky made the best burgers in the solar system, specially with a clean engine block. Don't ask why, but it tastes good. Sounds gross, tastes good. Jicentia cleans the block, and Sparky slaps the beef on. Weird eh?

"What kind of gift is being subjected to that?" I asked, jutting my thumb behind me. "The part I didn't say is I did spend most my life entertaining the idea that my mother was exactly like her, it kind of hurt to have it thrust in my face like that."

Ritch shrugged, and salted his fries a bit more. "What can I say? If I say I'm sorry I'll be turning into a broken record."

"And you being the only one out of the two of us actually that had a record player. How did those work out for you anyway?" I asked, looking at him quizzically.

"Fuck you." He said pointing a finger, and smiling in surprise. "Records sounded a lot better than these CD's and MP3 things you have out now. And they were easier to keep track of."

I set down my burger and held up my plate, and looked at it as if it was a foreign object. I studied it, lifted it, tilted it, tested its weight on my fingers and set it back down gently. "Yeah? Isn't it funny that way?"

Ritch shook his head. "Things are so much different now a days. When I was younger everything had to be bigger. Apartments were huge cause stuff was getting bigger, gabbier, and more off the wall. Now you can have a man fit just about everything he owns into a 10x10 closet and you can call that living well. He can fit his entire book collection, his music, his photos, and his work on one device. You can vacuum pack his clothes to save space. Literally, you can take so many homeless off the streets if people rented out their closets. Its how it's going to be someday."

I shook my head. "Ritch...you're rambling."

He shrugged. "Well think about it. Things are so much different then we were kids. Take...take terrorism for example. I've arrested a few terrorists in my time, and they get different with each passing year."

I rolled my eyes in slight boredom. He cleared his throat, and out of respect I paid attention, swallowing the hamburger bite I'd been chewing. "You got no idea Renee, how scared I was every day of my life. Those movies you watches as a kid, those were my days. My ways of living. We thought we knew whom the enemy was, and we were scared to death of him. All of us were scared Renee. We all knew that at any given second we could be under attack, and whipped out with the push of a button." He said with a sigh that represented years of tension. "The reds. They were easy to figure out then. It was a blind hatred of all that was capitalist or American. We didn't like them, they didn't like us. Then the movies, oh Renee then they made the movies. James Bond ® movies capitalized on a lot of it, Rambo ®, and Red Dawn ®. Those movies were supposed to not only remind us of the constant threat of the red's, it was supposed to be a way of saying we'd kick their asses."

I thought for a moment, and interrupted him, that is he was only pausing to catch his breath. "I remember that movie, it came out when I was young. I don't think I wanted to go to school anymore after that. I didn't like the idea of knowing some other country could invade us while we were learning about history or something. It just scared me too much."

Ritch snickered. "Scared YOU? We at the FBI had to deal with that threat every day, and we didn't need some rainbow chart to tell us exactly how nervous we were feeling that day either. Back then you could just tell by the color of people's faces. The greener it got, the more we thought danger was imminent. It was never fun, no matter what people make it out to be. As for schools Renee, be glad you went to Otto's, you were much safer there. With the way our youth has become, you never know what's going to happen. Like I said, now we don't even know whom the threat is anymore. Kids named Kip are going on a rampage and killing their parents, children not old enough to even sit in the front seat of a car are tripping fire alarms, and laying strafing fire ambushes for their classmates. Its crazy Renee."

I took another bite of my sandwich, moved it about in my mouth, and swallowed. "Yeah, and you could also get mugged by some shark in a dark alley, or nearly blown away by your landlord, or crushed in an earthquake, or even possibly starve in a shitty house that is falling apart."

Ritch pounded a fist against the table, he had run out of patience. "Enough. You want me to bring out your cross, so be it. Your life has been more than a trial, we all know that. If you want me to give you a gun so you can shoot me after we're done here, maybe that will make you feel better. Maybe that will allow me to see what I've never seen in person, which is my own son smile."

Hearing Ritch say that, something inside of me cracked. His statement was so simple, yet it meant everything to him. Sure he had seen me smile in pictures and videos, but never in all my life had he ever seen me in person with a smile on my face. I didn't realize until he said that, that over all the times we had talked recently, I had been so bitter. For years I imagined my father was some kind of jerk that had randomly knocked up my mom, someone that didn't want to bone up to being a dad and left her in the position she was in. I was ready to dismiss Ritch almost entirely. But, adding up the facts, he did look over my shoulder and through some means or another, he had been active in my entire life. Ritch wanted to be involved with me no matter what, my mother made it quite clear my existence was a lucky one on the other hand

"You really haven't seen me in person before, have you? I mean before the contest that is?"

Ritch shook his head. "The closest I came to seeing you in person was when I was at the airport when you left on your Honeymoon with Neil. I was on the other side of the airport trying to stop a terrorist from boarding a plane. I wanted so much to go over and watch you board, but with the sting being so sensitive, I couldn't move from my spot."

My burger became even less appetizing "I never thought about that."

Ritch wagged his tail a little. "I hate to say it, but at least you have seen your son smile."

That was true. I had indeed seen Cyric smile. It was a beautiful smile; so full of truth and emotion, it was crazy. Why was a smile bothering me? Why was his smile burning me now? I wanted to wave it away like some annoying insect, but it was futile. Ritch cleared his throat and grabbed my attention once more.

"You can hate me, loathe me, despise me, or just plain not like me Renee but one thing you must understand is regardless of how you feel for me, I will never abandon my love for you."

I choked and gasped. Hearing these words, did something inside of me. Emotion I was denying finally erupting forth. As if my lord Lucifer had willed it, out of no where, I started to cry. How could one simple statement make me cry so quickly? It was like a bad drama. It had been a whole since I cried, not counting my visit to mother. I lowered my head, and spit my food into a napkin. I set that down, and sobbed. I was more masculine when I cried, I noticed. My sobs were deeper than I normally got from just talking, but that was probably from how deep down the sadness was coming from. I closed my eyes, and just let the tears come. I was unaware, but Ritch had stood up, and had moved himself behind me. I felt his hands on my back, rubbing my shoulders, as if to soothe me. I felt so terrible for how I had acted toward Ritch, that had to have been it. So...I cried

When I had cried myself out, Ritch was almost spooned to me. His hands were around me, holding me. Ritch was soothing his crying child for the first time in his life. If I hadn't already been crying, I probably would have started up again from how dramatic this was getting.

I know I'm starting to sound really whiney here, but it was touching.

I don't know how long it took but when I was no longer upset, I looked down. Ritch's hands were wrapped around my waist. On closer inspection, Ritch and I had almost the same hands, his were covered with rose tattoos but the were my hands. The hands of someone whom understand what a hard days work was, the hands of someone whom understood the delicacies of good grooming. His nails were even touched up with a clear polish, unlike my pink.

"That was different..." I said softly. And was it just me, or did our bodies spoon better together than anyone I'd ever spooned with?

Ritch Nuzzled my neck like a parent would, and let out a sigh, of what I wasn't sure. "You cool?"

I swallowed, and nodded. "I suppose."

"I have to admit, that was something I never quite counted on happening."

"Same here." I sniffed.

"Can I asked what possessed you to cry?"

"It was a lot of things, too much really to explain."

"Well that was different. The last time I held a crying man it was because he was suicidal. So...we aren't at that point are we?"

I shook my head.

"Good."

We rested there for a few minutes before we went any further, but after we collected ourselves, we were walking through hallways again.

"So what possessed you to marry her?"

Ritch was confused for a moment, but then he realized what I was talking about. "The sex was good, if you want the truth."

I shook my head. "No I didn't ask why you were fucking her, I asked why did you marry her."

He put both his hands in his pockets, and seemed to think again. He then chuckled and said, "Because the sex was good and I thought I loved her."

"But you're just as gay as I am; as I suspect Cyric may turn out to be. I just don't understand, how could you marry her?"

"Like I said, the sex was good."

I rolled my eyes. "The sex must have been spectacular for you to live with her."

Ritch shuffled his bare feet as he walked. "She was different then. Very different. If she could see then what she would become now, I doubt she would have abandoned you."

I snapped my fingers. "Psyco bitch can stay far...far away from me. I'm ready to forget her again."

"Agreed."

I almost smiled right then. Ritch and I hadn't really agreed on much since meeting. Perhaps our mutual distaste for mother would bring us together. How twisted...

How Springer-ish

"Well, this next visit will be interesting for the both of us."

I raised both my eyebrows to agree. "While mother was more emotionally driving for me to meet, I am more spiritually driven to meet her."

"Spiritually?"

"We had sex...we had a kid-" I stopped, and then shrugged and continued. "I...um...well yes the sex was that good now that I think about it."

Ritch smiled as the fox he was. "It only takes that one gal to make us wonder just how gay we are; and when we find out we normally already have mini-me's running about while we're cruising the bathhouses of the seediest cities in the world."

"Porn studio for me."

"You were still sleeping with men. As was I once I knew. It took meeting your mother for me to truly know."

"Yeah, but yours was different."

"How?"

"You two were dating, knew one another. Me, it was just part of a black mass, and nothing more."

"To create a child in your teens must be difficult."

I nodded in agreement. "Well yeah."

"You and I have a good gap. You and Cyric, hadly have a generation gap between the two of you."

I frowned. "Thanks for reminding me."

Ritch chuckled. "You're welcome."

As we rounded a corner, a thought occurred, "Hey Ritch?"

He hummed a "yes?", a long and pleasant yes.

"While you were looking over my shoulder, did you have a chance to meet Cyric's mother?"

Ritch then performed a kind of motion that looked like he was trying to itch a hemorrhoid without using his hands. When he looked satisfied, he answered. "I'd like to say yes, but I have to say no. I wasn't part of the team that busted her. I may have had influence on where she was going to be housed, but that was the extent in my involvement with that case. She really wasn't that important to me. You, work, and home/family comes first. I really haven't even thought about her to be honest."

"Neither did I." I sighed. "I haven't thought about her until I found out she tried to sacrifice the child I was unaware I had created."

Ritch stopped. I also stopped. "Are you going to need another safe room like with your mother?"

I shook my head and whipped my nose. "Nah...I'm not as mat at her as I feel I should be. Maybe it's that I know that I have Cyric and he's alive and safe."

Ritch snickered and we resumed walking. "If by safe you mean in an apartment full of gay men."

"Oddly enough...yes."

"Renee, can I ask you a question? It's a very personal question."

"You can ask that doesn't mean that I'll answer."

"Any of your roommates ever do anything sexual with Cyric?"

I thought about that as we made another turn. "I honestly don't think so, the only person I know of that has come close or would be myself."

Ritch raised an eyebrow, "Eh?"

I held up a hand. "Really its not as bad as it sounds. We sleep naked together, share thongs, shower together, cuddle, and perhaps I kiss him longer than I should..."

Ritch interrupted. "Wait...you share thongs?"

I made an uneasy affirmative laugh. "Well he found some of my smaller pairs from when I was a bit thinner and tried them on. Now he wants to be just like his daddy and all that."

Ritch smiled slowly. "You know, in some perverse way that's cute."

"What, that we share provocative underwear?"

Ritch shook his hed. "All of it. I honestly wish we were like that."

I looked at him more closely. "Sleeping naked together and all that? Normally you just got to buy me a stiff drink for that."

Weather I liked it or not, Ritch and I were bonding. Some ways I was still angry with him, and in other (more intimate) ways I was becoming swiftly enamored with my father. Though in the case of Ritch, I knew that if we ever mirrored what Cyric and I had, it was doubtful our sleeping time would be very innocent.

Incest had been a word in my mind since I had first slept nude with Cyric. With Ritch it was far easier for me to envision being intimate with him than with Cyric. As odd as I thought it was, the person I had less of a problem with fucking was the one that I had the more unstable relationship with.

Ritch asked me as we neared the traditional interviewing rooms if I had ever thought about trying something sexual with Cyric. I told him that I'd be lying if I said no, but on the other hand it wasn't as if I was making plans to break out the lube when he got home from school. I really didn't know.

"Well I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel the same way." Ritch said as we stopped at the door. And an eerie silence fell upon us; we had just unzipped our flys and exposed something rather intimate, but the fact that we had just shared and felt a mutual desire for our offspring was something that was indescribable and a feeling that I really couldn't put into words.

I'd have to think about that later.

The interview room was more like a large interrogation room like you'd see on CSI or something rather than what you'd consider to be a visitation room. She was mentally sound enough that the orderlies were not overly worried about our safety, but she was not sane enough to take care of herself due to the fact that she was more interested in self-harm than she was anything else. Well there was that and the fact that she had tried to kill cyric.

She was different than what I had remembered her. Way different. The woman I remembered, was a fair breasted, malevolent eyed, bushy furred vixen with long raven hair and a fiery contempt for god and a condescending attitude towards non-faithful. In the 10 years it had been since I had seen her, she'd shaved every inch of her fur off (that I could see), had a breast reduction, and bore many (self inflicted I imagine) ritualistic scars. Some of the scars were fresh, and only recently healed. Bloodletting as I had learned it was either a self-sacrifice, penance, or a request for more power - and on occasion part of erotic rite. Being a former high priestess, it was difficult to tell what exactly her aim was with this bloodletting. Though, through looking at her eyes and the doped look they had to them, it was a far stretch to imagine that anything she got from the rite would be beneficial.

"Someone to see me?" She asked in a groggy, kind of curious voice that one tends to have when they are just waking up or becoming aware of their surroundings.

A badger woman, dressed in doctor's whites patted her hand and nodded. "Yes, this is Agent Ritch Arran of the FBI and Renee Morningstar, both here to see you."

She tilted her head, as if something strange and alien had been said. "Renee Morningstar? I know that name..."

Ritch took a seat, but I decided to stand, leaning against the wall. I lifted up my shirt, and showed the women my tattooed chest. "Perhaps you'll remember this? Your boys put it on me."

The hairless vix smiled in recognition, or what I interpreted to be recognition. "Oh, it's you." She said with a relieved sigh. Her voice, despite the tone of comfort, still had that melancholy "just woke up" air to it. The badger lady seemed shocked at the display of my torso, but blushed at the same time. I imagined from the way she blushed that she didn't see much of the like elsewhere. As for the Vix, she was unmoved in any way other than the recognition and relief from the sight of my chest. I lowered my shirt back down, and winked at Ritch, whom seemed to be squirming himself in his seat at the sight of my naked chest.

"Um that was slightly unorthodox, but I suppose that eliminates the recognition portion. I'm allowing 15 minutes for this interview. I'll be behind the door if any of you need me."

Ritch nodded. "Thank you Michelle."

The badger left, closing the large security door behind her. My ex of sorts sat, fidgeting slightly with her top. It looked like the scrubs a doctor would wear. In days past I'm sure her then healthy bust would have blossomed in that garment quite well. Now, she was really as masculine as I was.

"So how's life?" She asked softly.

"I'm working 3 jobs, and taking care of Cyric. Still serving our lord." I replied.

"How is the little guy?" She asked, sounding slightly more awake.

I blinked and maintained my stare. "Fine. He's eating well and going to school."

She sighed. "I suppose he looks so much like you did now."

I didn't respond for a moment, but I finally said. "Yes, we do look alike."

There was a lot of silence then between us. She moved her hands over the table, in a similar way to one at an altar, almost rubbing it reverently.

"Ya know, I really had no choice."

"If you say so."

She looked directly at me. "I failed him Morningstar, I failed him and our lord. Sacrificing him would have at least given him a life better than I could have provided on this earth."

"He's a very impressionable boy, but I don't think he'd ever understand what you tried was in his best interest."

She shrugged. "Lucifer gave me a child, a test. I failed, so I wanted to send back the gift that he sent."

"Unlike GOD, Lucifer doesn't create life in order to have it slain. He's selfish, and if he takes the time to create something he's going to want to keep it. We created that life in his honor, we must continue to honor that."

She whimpered. "It was a trial, as I saw it."

I folded my arms and tapped my foot against the leg of the table.

"What do you do?"

I hummed an "Excuse me?"

"What do you do for work?"

Without even thinking I answered. "Well I teach at a dojo for sexual minority kids and adults, I act at universal studios, and I do gay porn on the side."

She blinked as if shocked. "You're taking care of Cyric, and you're a porn star?"

I made the slightest of shrugs. "I was doing that long before I knew he existed. I was fucking four times a week at one point. Now I do maybe 2 shots a month if that. I'm trying rather hard to provide as good a life as I can for Cyric."

She giggled a little and drooled. "I just never thought you'd stick with the faith...I thought sex with the boys would scare you off like the other trend followers."

"There are few things that would have ever scared me, but sex or anyone in the group were never a problem for me."

She chuckled and rolled her eyes about. "I'm scared Morningstar."

I slowly stood and turned my back on her. "You can be scared all you want, but I don't have the time to be afraid."

"I'm always afraid of failure...Morningstar...I know I'm going to fail."

"Its too late for that, you're already a failure." I said as I signaled I wanted to leave.

* * *

That was the last time I ever saw Cyric's mother alive. Shortly after that interview I read that she had overdosed on her medicine, and had failed to wake up the next morning. As per her wishes, I did not mourn her loss. And Cyric, like me, would know what life was like without mother.

* * *

Asher's hospital room was the best room that money could buy. In ways it is better than our apartment. I had spent some savings to get Asher and Ishanka high quality rooms at their hospitals. Asher was resting in intensive care, becoming adjusted to life after his experience.

The bed was big and cosy. Rowdy had moved in for emotional support, sleeping in the lounge recliner to the left of the bed. The blinds were drawn low, but some afternoon light still shone in.

The room felt like a small hotel room, rather than a hospital. The only thing that ruined the image was the IV stand next to his bed, and the hospital buttons.

Ritch and I entered, Rowdy was out...wherever...leaving the three of us alone. Asher was naked, under his blankets that is. On his head he wore a pink bandana, and thick medical goggles, blackened like sunglasses. He had IV's in his arms, and some monitor pads on his chest. In the time he'd been in the hospital. Most of his wounds had healed. His knees and eyes were the only things we had to worry about. Or more appropriately what Asher had to worry about.

Ever since that fateful night where once more fate pissed into the wind and brought forth the debacle that we now had to live in; the quake, the day we crossed that line that not many friends cross, I've felt like Asher was my brother. He'd been a putz at times, forced himself on me sexually once or twice, but by devil he was my friend.

We'd been told that Asher had got glass shards and something toxic in his eyes when Fletcher had tossed him into the dumpster. We were told that the shotgun blasts to his knees were severe in themselves, but with therapy he should have been able to walk just fine. Unfortunately the doctors were not able to do anything about his eyes.

"Nurse?" Asher asked, not moving his goggled face.

"No Asher, it's me Ne-Ne." I said, sitting in Rowdy's chair. Ritch inspected the monitors, not saying anything.

"Oh! I'm glad that you're here. They just had me in physical therapy. You know how that goes."

"Yes I remember. Though, learning how to walk again while blind, must be a real treasure eh?"

Asher smirked, and groped around for his bed controller. Upon finding it 6 inches from where he thought he was, he made the bed seat him forward, while he continued to stare blankly at us, cracking a smile. "It's good to hear you're voice friend."

I shed a tear, my first in...hours? "It's good to be around you too Asher."

"What brings you here? You normally come visit me on Thursdays."

I shrugged my way and moved my way onto the bed, and took Asher's hand in mine. He quickly took it, holding it tight. "It doesn't matter what day it is, I wanted to see you."

Asher laughed. "You're full of shit, ya know that."

"Yeah I'm entitled to be." I said with a grin. "Where's Rowdy?"

Asher shrugged. The big Italian lug, it was so hard to keep from loving him. "Ehh, not sure. He left for practice a while ago, but he could have skipped another."

Ritch moved next to me, and slid an arm around my waist. That was an interesting feeling, for he was cuddling me almost like a lover. I sighed in content, and nestled into him. Asher's face quirked, as if he was puzzling over my sigh, "Renee is there someone else here?"

Ritch cleared his throat and removed his arm from mine; patting Asher's other hand with his. "Mr. Asher, I am Agent Ritch Arran of the KGB, and I'm here to take you back to mother Russia with us comrade..." Ritch said in a fake Russian accent. Asher scoffed and stifled a chuckle. "No seriously I'm Ritch Arran from the FBI. I'm here with Renee."

Asher groaned, and looked uneasy. "Not another agent. Renee, I've talked to all the cops and agents in the world, Fletcher is dead....he's the one that raped me...he's the one that did this. Its all over now, its not like we can delve further into the dark recesses of a dead-man's mind. This isn't D&D where we can talk with the dead and find out what they were thinking before they died."

Ritch chuckled a bit uneasily. "Actually, Mr. Asher, I'm Renee's father."

Asher's lips pursed and he looked in Ritch's general direction. "The asshole that abandoned Renee as a kid? The one that left him to die in a toilet?"

I said, "No Asher that was my mother."

"What's the difference, you abandoned your duties as a father, you might as well have been the one to abandon him." He said as he turned his head to the side.

Ritch looked at me, and I looked at him. "Asher, Ritch and I have had some time to discuss this, and to speak rationally."

Asher shrugged. "That's fine Renee, but I remember the way it was, how some nights you'd rant and rave about how I even had parents and you didn't, and I carried that with me for a long time. And in my present state you can understand if I'm not completely in the mood."

Ritch cleared his throat. "In that case I'll see you outside Renee, nice to meet you Asher." He said politely, but got no response from Ash.

Ritch turned and excused himself, closing the door behind him. I squeezed Asher's hand and spoke soothingly "Asher, do you think it's any easier for me than it is for him? He's had a hard life too, and he's just trying to bone up for his mistakes now."

Asher licked his lips. "We Italians aren't as forgiving as you are Renee."

I scoffed. "Since when has this been about you being Italian? You aren't even in character right now Asher. You're not wrestling."

He sighed. "Thank you for reminding me that I don't have a job anymore."

"You know that wasn't my intention."

"What was your intention?"

I rubbed his paw. "I just don't want you cutting promos on everyone that comes by. I like the sensitive you, I miss the you that wanted to screw my brains out...you know...the happy-go-lucky Asher."

Asher drummed his fingers on his free hand. "I just don't feel the way really. I can't walk, and I can't see. That's a bad combination Renee. I don't want to be helpless...that's the last thing I want. Sides, the General was here today."

I gulped. I remembered his father. General Arnez Asherado, U.S. Army. I met him back when I had first met Asher. Asher was a boot camp drop out. It had nothing to do with his sexuality, just that he didn't feel cut out for military life. His father took it hard and beat some sense into Asher quite literally. Asher was desperate for his father's approval, and General Arnez was desperate for his son's compliance. Asher as disciplined as he could be at times, just wasn't cut out to take orders.

"What happened?"

Asher took a deep breath. "He came in...and was actually really civil. He was worried about me. He asked me what happened, and I told him. He asked me if I...just gave into Fletcher's advances because of my sexuality. I told him I wasn't interested and fought him as best as I could, but he was too strong. That, and he shot my legs out."

"What did he have to say to that?"

"Well father understood. Father has had some close calls in boot camp back in the day, but he was able to fend off his attackers. Me...I dunno. He seemed more mad at himself than anyone, like he failed somewhere, or that if he would have been here for me more maybe I wouldn't have been raped."

I shook my head and squeezed the hand again. "That's bull. Not your father's sentiment, just the idea behind it. There's no way that Fletcher could have been completely stopped. He was a psycho, and could have flipped out at any time. There's only so much that could be done."

"Father wants me to live on base with him for a couple weeks, and keep me under armed guard. That and mom hasn't seen me in ages."

"Perhaps that'll be good. Where would they fly you?"

"Father's going to be up in Oregon, so probably up there. They say it's real green up there, and a good place to relax."

"Well if you can get past all the rain."

"It's not like I'm going to melt."

"Well are you worried about getting around? You don't know Oregon very well."

Asher waved a hand. "I'm going to have to make do, like it or not."

I let go of Asher's hand and rubbed his chest gently. "And as for my dad, I want to try to make things work out, I want to try to be civil myself."

Asher licked his lips. "Well, just remember that I've been there for you longer than he has, so if he breaks your heart again, I'm telling you not to blame me now."

"Understood. But, I think that Ritch and I may have something."

Asher coughed. "Have something? As in?"

"Well..." I paused. "If it's anything, we both wanna fuck one another...I think."

Asher snickered. "Renee you just want to fuck everyone but me."

"But I did fuck you remember?"

He nodded. "Until I got with Rowdy it was the best sex I ever had. Oh, and by the way, what has he been saying about me?"

"In what regard?"

"Well, I'm worried that he may not love me as much in this condition."

I scoffed. "You two are an athletic fairy tail romance. After all that Rowdy's been through and done, you gave him some stability. He loves you. Me, I'm just friendly sex to him, but you he loves like I love my Neil. He's not saying anything negative about you."

Asher sighed in relief. "I just wonder, I cant see people's faces, so I can't tell if their mortified at all, and Rowdy's voice is so hard to read. You you're an actor, so you know how to change your voice, but I trust you."

I laughed. "You had better. I'm payin for this room remember?"

Asher nodded slowly, then coughed again. "Did you say you and your father want to fuck one another?"

"Yes, that I did."

He made a puzzled, "Uhhhh...." And then swallowed. "How did THAT come about?"

I felt embarrassed all a sudden, and crossed my legs modestly. I knew he couldn't see it, but I did it anyway. "Well...we got to talking, and I guess we both admitted we are physically attracted to one another."

"And he feels the same way?"

"Y-yeah. He wants to be with me really bad. I think not only was he obsessed with me being his son, I think at one point he fell in love with my body too. And Asher, if you could only see Ritch...I mean...-" I swallowed "I'm hard pressed to deny that I feel something stir in me every time I see him."

Asher sighed. "Well...incest is a touchy subject to some. It's not illegal, but...it's still a taboo to some. How do you feel about it."

I looked at the ceiling and took about half a minute to answer. I had to really think about if I truly believed what I was going to say. "Well, he's an adult, older than me...and...hot....I suppose I wouldn't mind if it was him."

Asher shook his head. "Renee keep in mind this is your father that just popped up out of no where, sure thanks to some panther you two end up back together, but are you sure after 20 plus years of neglect, you're ready to fuck the guy who more or less fucked you over?"

I made an affirmative noise. "I suppose, I see it as part of a test."

"A test? What kind of test?"

"A multiple choice one if you will. I'm going to make the offer, and depending on what he does, will prove if he's being nice to me because he loves me or if he just wants to get into my pants."

"Renee, are you sure fucking your dad to see if he loves you is healthy?"

"Asher after the afternoon I've had, I really don't care anymore. I'm treating Ritch more as an adult rather than my father right now. And, so you know, there were times earlier today when I was really emotional, and he took the time to help me through it. Not many have done that, and It really spoke to me. The fact that he took the time to soothe and comfort me for no gain of his own, really says he loves me in my opinion. I think maybe by fucking we can get closer, or find out how far apart we really are."

Asher let out a breath, and rubbed my arm "I just don't want you to get hurt. You're a big boy now, and you're capable of making your own decisions, but just be prepared to face whatever consequences that come about."

"I'm well prepared."

"Well, then I suppose I have nothing more to say, other than try to enjoy yourself."

"I will."

"Renee, one last thing before you go, The guys at WWF wanted me to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Well, I was set to win a Battle Royal at the next Pay-per-view. I can't wrestle, and they haven't taken me out of the story line because word hasn't got out to the WWF fans as to my condition, they just know I got injured. They wanted to know if you'd fill in for me in the match."

I laughed. "Asher, I'm not a wrestler..."

"But Renee you know how to take a fall, you know how to take a hit, and you can pull your punches and kicks, they just need you to be there so they can write me out of the storyline."

"So, I'd loose?"

"More or less. Whatever they want to do with you they'll tell you. But, since they don't plan on using you full time, they'd have you put someone else over."

"Wasn't this for a title though?"

"Yeah, US Championship, but it's not important anymore...I just have to get written off at this point."

I frowned. "Well that sucks. What if I decide to just kick all their asses and win you the title?"

Asher laughed. "That'd be sweet, but then they'd be right where they left off before, they'd be stuck without a true US Champion. You can't wrestle full time, and you don't have to do this match either, Rowdy might do it but he doesn't know how to take those falls very well."

I smirked. "Well at least you'd have a pretty belt to play with."

Asher laughed again, but softer this time. "Heh if only. Well, just give the office a call if you want to do it, they'll fly you out and have you train for a little bit, but you're in shape, so they'd just train you on the ropes and falling in the ring."

"I have a boxing ring at the dojo, we just don't use it that much."

"Well wrestling rings are a little different, but that's a start."

"I'll do what I can. You just do what you can and get walking again."

Asher sighed. "A few more weeks and I'll be up.

I smirked and lifted his covers, and found his sheath, I gave it a long and affectionate lick, and then followed it up with another. Asher shuddered and pet my face. "Well...I suppose I'll be up faster this way."

I had to make it quick, but I licked him to harness, and gave him a deep and well meant blowjob, hoping for the life of me that no one walked in. I sucked long and hard on the meaty shaft of Asher, as he cringed, and whimpered. Apparently it was one of my better blowjobs by the feel of it.

I was rewarded with a mouthful of Shepard sperm, and swallowed tucking Asher back in, and kissed him goodbye. He fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Hours later...

* * *

Moonlight filled the hotel room we had rented, Ritch had sprung for the presidential suite. After both of us went home to collect our thought and clothes, we returned to the airport Hilton, for this midnight interlude.

Ritch had accepted my offer, and we were about to commit a centuries old taboo, but I was about to embrace it. Either Ritch was my father or not.

I had an odd request for Ritch, but Ritch actually thought it was one of the sexiest things in the world. I wanted him to grease himself up, and do a nude pose-down with me, Slowly we would get closer, and ...well you know...

I stood in the bathroom, Neil was behind me, massaging my shoulders. "I'm fucking nervous hun."

"I couldn't tell." The sexiest rat in the world said behind me, pressing his small belly against the small of my back, working my shoulders gently. "You'll be alright."

"Are you okay with this?"

"It's different, I'll give you that, but I think it's hot. I got the camera for later." He said lustfully at the end.

"You've been hanging around Claire haven't you?"

"You don't pay any attention to that, just go out there and get to know him."

With a healthy shove, I stumbled out into the room. I was naked, and greased. I had never done this before, but the warm massage oil and posing oil that Ritch had Neil apply to us, felt rather good. There in the moonlight stood my father, His back to me. He was naked as well. His tattooed body, sleek and wet, his taut muscles shining in the light, his tight buttocks flexing as he showed me his back muscles. I looked downward, his calves flared slightly, his shoulder muscles tensing. Just from his backside, he was dreamy. He looked at me with his good eye over his shoulder, his eye showing the deep love he carried for me.

Unabashed to nudity, but still nervous, I entered a Herculean pose, with my biceps flexed, and stepping partway forward, trying to emphasize my arms and pectorals.

Ritch turned to his side, and I got that nifty side bicep pose that gave me a teasing view of almost all his body, but it hid the necessary areas. I tried not to drool, but seeing him this way, for the second time, in this way, I could see the beauty in him. I stepped closer, and matched the same pose.

Ritch followed it up by turning, and revealing himself. Sheathwise, we were almost mirror images of one another. His body was much leaner, and more taught, so to the untrained eye he may have seemed better endowed, but we were about the same. Even his sheath was tattooed, and was a sight to behold. He folded his arms and flexed his arms again, spreading his legs a bit. I moved closer, holding my arms above my head, then...deciding I was no match for his pose downs, decided to throw him a curve.

I took my leg and lifted it high in one of my martial arts stretches, almost touching my shin to my lips, giving him almost a clear shot at my most intimate of areas. Ritch smiled and moved in. With a gentle hand he laid my up leg on his shoulder, and held me in his arms. His sheath went perfectly between my legs, slightly swollen and heated with his arousal, as was mine. I wrapped my arms around him, and was glad for my training, cause otherwise this position would have been murder. My eyes locked with his, as he whispered. "I've....dreamt of this moment..."

I looked at him and began to rub my greased inner thighs against his sheath, and nuzzled his muzzle. Not having had many foxes recently, save for Lindsay, feeling him up against me was more worth it than anything. Our bodies did meld and meet well. I felt as if we were perfect spooning partners. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't turned on by this." I replied.

He gently let me set my leg down as he held a hand to my chest and told me to be still. He lifted my arms above my head, and had me extend them. I flattened my palms, as if reaching to the stars...or powering up for a spirit bomb, and closed my eyes. His hands tilted my head up to the ceiling, and he pulled away slightly. His hands then found themselves upon my chest, father's palms lightly massaging my tattooed torso. The oil and grease made the massage much easier, his hands heavenly upon my being. I slowed my breath, and deepened it, taking in as much air as I could, feeling this ecstasy build inside me.

My nipples hardened, and responded to his touch. I hardened as firm as I could before sliding out, my sheath plump and ripe with sexual life. Ritch moved his palms towards the sternum than up towards my throat, taking them gently over my Adam's apple, and then back down onto my collarbones. He moved south then onto my outer pectorals, moving down the line of my chest and then into the valley of my lower pecs, and inward. When his finger sides crossed my nipples, his hands moved gently up and onto them, rocking the wet oily palms back and forth over the sensitive organs. I wasn't sure if it was more of a moan or a wimper that escaped me, but daddy was good.

His hands moved in circular massages over the pert and firmed nipples, hard enough to break cinderblock I wouldn't doubt. Ritch made a low groan of appreciation, and began to randomize the pattern of his circulations, switching from inwards to outwards massages at entirely different moments. The caress he was administering to me was a sensation I don't believe I had ever known. Surely I had experienced someone playing with my nipples before, but never quite like father was doing to me. I nearly cried.

But crying was far from what I did, lest you count my noises of pleasure. He moved the palms out, giving them a break as he switched to his thumbs, allowing the black skin of the digits to maneuver themselves about my nipples. He gingerly stopped the circular motions, and then took the thumbs below the nipples and just kind of, let my nipples rest on top of his thumbs, letting them recover. When Ritch felt the time was right, his fingers pushed up, and then relaxed...pushed...and then relaxed, occasionally giving another circular rub with the flat of the thumb itself. This was something so new, I flexed my chest and reflexively pulled away. Father was quick, and latched his index fingers above the nipple and had the fingers perfect for pinching; and pinch he did. I gasped, and made a noise...surprise and intrigue mostly. He pulled on the nipples gently, as if he was grasping a pair of tiny cocks, and gently tugged on them both. I moved closer, and wrapped myself helplessly about father as he continued what he was doing.

Gently once more, he began to lightly move his fingers up and down the shafts of the nipples, as if masturbating them. I breathed, and nuzzled my face against Ritch's. He didn't return the nuzzle, only that he was deeply immersed in his duty of pleasuring me. I didn't stop him, and if I only would have reached down, the amount of precum he was leaking was enough to tell me he was quite satisfied with what he was doing.

He then slipped his tongue, suddenly, and aggressively into my muzzle, and brought us into a kiss. My father had his tongue in my mouth. I gasped, as his fingers pinched hard upon my nipples adding pain to the pleasure which only made me feel better, and more erect. I met back in kind with his tongue, so I could give his taste organ a proper grapple. My lips smacked with his, my breathing increasing to match my increasing heart rate. Ritch began to move his fingers in the pinching motion, in the same manner one twists a watch, or turns the dial on a television. No, to say that I was enjoying this would definitely fit the understatement category.

Father's mouth had a flavor I hadn't experienced before. It was more than just fleshy and wet, it had a flavor all it's own. It was malty, almost like the aftertaste of a beer. Barley...that was what his mouth tasted like. I could almost taste my father's maturity. It was not as if he was old, but I could almost taste him...just from the kiss. Perhaps it was the heat of the moment, or that I had truly never kissed anyone before in my life then...but in that instant I could believe that I was tasting Ritch and nothing more. Ritch's flavor was Ritch. Ritch gave me unabridged access to his mouth, and allowed a lead in the erotic dance that my taste buds were relishing. I felt the strength in his tongue muscles, as if it were a reflection of the rest of his body - a channel for his athletic efforts compacted into the span of his maw.

I flexed my arms that were wrapped around him, as Ritch changed up his approach to my nipples, and moved his index fingers from the outside of the nipples to the inside. He took the shafts between his middle and index fingers, and slid the palms up and down my chest, giving the area flood of sensation. I could feel Ritch moving his tongue across the roof of my mouth, even tingling the nooks and valleys therein. I moved my tongue away from his and tasted his silky and fleshy inner cheeks, lapping his skin and saliva in gratitude.

I brought myself to moan in genuine thanks into his mouth, father already pleasing me in a way I didn't know much of till then, and allowed him to lead once more. Within no time I was educated in the term "sucking face" as his lips began to suck quite effectively on nearly all that it had enveloped. I matched him as best as we could, looking like a rather lusty pair, making out in the moonlight greased and nude before the spectacle of life itself. Our scents hit my noses soon, even over the heavy and potent smells of the oils and grease, aiding in my ability to get hard and to get wet in need for my father.

Dad's hands then moved off my nipples, my chest red hot from his pleasuring, as they left my front and moved around back, finding their way to my own pretty butt. Ritch gently toyed and teased the flesh of my glutes, as if testing the consistency of a wad of dough. I stifled a snicker and turned it into another moan, but it was difficult to hide my amusement. The way he squeezed, almost tickled as he worked the upper section of my ass cheeks, the parts closer to the hips. For some reason, squeezing there created a near tickling sensation to me.

The kiss had never been broken, but the pace and depth of it had changed, as a pair of dancers often will change the tempo of a dance to allow themselves time to rest, before beginning to rumba once more. Slowly, ever so slowly, father pulled his lips back, and moved his hands towards my shoulder blades, and I did the same, getting a feel for the angles of his back. He had strong shoulders and a wonderful spine that I cringed for.

Father slowly pulled himself back, and made a soft kiss of my lips before he began to grind our greased bodies together. My pert nipples rubbed against the slick fur on his chest, creating an entirely new ping of pleasure through me. I felt his swollen sheath rub against mine, our dual sexes starting to mingle. I could feel the very organ that created me, against the organ it created...and they seemed to firm in recognition. I looked down, and we were starting to emerge. The grinding pulled us forth from our furry sheaths. Ritch, deciding my chest had received enough attention, fell to his knees before me. As he kneeled, he was not the same Ritch I had been with earlier, he was a predator...a fox in heat. I could see the inferno in his eye, I could see the way he arched his back, and raised up on his haunches going onto all fours, and beginning to lick the grease and oil from my body; edible...for just this occasion.

His tongue was razor fire upon the sensitive ice that was my penis. His tongue curled around the shape of my vulpine shaft, and began to hug itself, before whipping its way back inside the sanctity of his muzzle. His licks moved randomly about the flesh of my cockmeat, tasting the vulpine head, all the way down to the inverted hourglass middle, and then even to the knot, his taste buds dragging themselves over my most intimate and sensitive of G spots. I gripped onto Ritch's hair, and held it, almost like a pillow or a cum rag...knowing he was about to start something that would cause me to become week kneed. Ritch finally moved his muzzle and lips around the head of my shaft, and laid his hands on the back of my thighs. I cried out, loud, and stage like. It amused Ritch, and Stirred up his emotion.

Ritch knew how to suck cock, that is beyond a doubt, but what I didn't know is that dad knew how to make love to a penis with every inch of his mouth. Without any determent to the mouse filming us in the bathroom, but it was already skyrocketing it's way to the best oral sex I had ever received.

"Oh shit..."

Ritch rubbed the head of my shaft against the roof of his mouth, and maintained a good pressure, increasing the tug on the head when he rose, and opening his mouth wide to suck me deep into his being. He mouthed little words of affection, and occasionally said he was sorry in between sucks. I told him to shut up and keep sucking. Before I knew it, My knees were starting to tremble with father's assault upon my dick. I knew I wouldn't last long; either I'd orgasm or collapse...whatever came first. Father pinched the back of my legs, and slowly lowered me to the ground. I laid, my chest rising and falling. Father kept me in his mouth, and gently let my maleness spill out, my hard foxcock slapping up to my pierced navel. So I was bigger down there than I thought I was.

"Need a break son?" he asked.

"Yeah...just for a sec." I replied.

Father crawled up the line of my body, and sat kindly on my penis, placing it between his legs, his scrotum laying on the head of my penis. He laid his hands on my pectorals, and once more began to pinch my nipples. I reached out and did the same to him, only I took the time to pinch him a bit harder, as if they were tiny cocks. Ritch arched his back, and in a flash removed his hands from me, and placed them on my own...urging me on. He screamed for me to go harder, and I obliged. I squeezed them as if they were little grapes...not to the point that I wanted them damaged, but just to the point that I wanted him to feel the pleasure I was enjoying. I leaned up...my cock recovering from it's pleasure and attacked his sternum with my tongue. I tasted him, tasted my father's body for the first time, and it fueled me to go further. I bit, and licked, moving all over his pectorals, seeing his rose tattoos as miniature targets. Dad threw his back into an arch, grinding his own slab of cockmeat against my tummy, while I nibbled and pleasured his chest...taking my hands down his back, and gripping his buttocks gently.

"Ohhh goddamn son....." he groaned as he reached down and freed up a paw, and stroked himself, rubbing his head gently back and forth across the same area of my chest I was currently nibbling and biting on. Growls escaped me every once in a while, while father held on, now it was his turn to understand how I felt. I did love him...and I guess this was a better place to start than ever. He groaned and whined, panting as if he was having difficulty keeping himself from giving into his own lust completely.

With an aggressive, but loving maneuvering of my body I rolled Ritch on bottom, looking down at him on the hotel carpet, knowing full well this would be the second time I had torn a hotel room apart in one form or another.

Ritch and I clutched at one another like there was nothing else but this moment of passion to keep us going. I hugged, groped, and squeezed, and he did the same to me. I slipped my body down the line of his, and in a loving gulp, swallowed his member into my mouth. It was more interesting than I could have ever imagined. I was tasting the very piece of anatomy that gave me life over 2 decades ago. It was swollen and full of that deep need to create life...a strong and needy heat. I ran my tongue over it, but held my lips still and my neck and throat in place. I didn't want to over stimulate him right off the bat. I tasted his light squirts of precum, letting the flavor dance on my organ.

It was one thing to be giving someone head but to truly be giving them oral pleasure was off the page. I imagine he was feeling a sensation much like I was feeling earlier, only he had his own levels of pleasure to go through. I myself had the mental satisfaction that my father was fucking hot...and that I wanted to make peace in one way or another. I'm very sure he had his own thoughts.

I pulled off his penis and gave the shaft a few more gentle licks, as if I was cleaning up a mess that has yet to be made. Father's shaft had a marvelous penis color, nearly pinkish red, and purple in spots. I stroked it, learning his cock with my hands now, feeling the lovely saturation I had created bringing a mixture of saliva and precum.

"Wow..." Was all Ritch could say.

I slid him back into my mouth and tickled his hips. He hoisted them and gave me acess to his tight and well formed buttocks. I gave them gentle and nurturing squeezes as I slid and suckled on my father's cock. I loved how the point of his head tickled the back of my throat, occasionally it could latch at the back of my throat, almost like he was trying to keep himself inside. His shaft was warm, and needy.

"Renee...lets...lets...."

I nodded and pulled off. Knowing that this was going to be the most intimate thing I had ever done, next to my initial mating with Neil, I could only think of one appropriate position, the double mount. Taking turns, as romantic and intimate as this was, wouldn't work. We both needed to be at our peaks to be able to be what we felt was our best.

I pulled off and hoisted my father up to an adequate angle, squatting over his shaft, and aiming mine at his. This wouldn't have been as difficult as it sounds if it wasn't for the body grease. I would hook his legs, and he would slip like one trying to grab the soap. Finally we managed, as I used his tail for leverage. When we lined up, and were adequately lubed I pressed our heads together.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked.

"Never been more sure of anything."

I pushed. I would have thought he would have crossed the threshold easier than I would, but I was surprised, our heads entered almost simultaneously. Once we were there, I began the act of the intimate lovemaking. Ritch...suddenly I understood. Ritch my father was the piece I felt I was missing. As I slid in and out, feeling his red hot silk ass wrap around my shaft, and likewise his rod of flesh working its way ever deeper inside of me, I knew that's what I was missing. We were made for this act, regardless of father and son...regardless of any social taboos. They didn't matter, for here we were. Neil was my mate in mind and everything, but perhaps Ritch was my soulmate. Something different than Neil and I, on a different level. I could never not love Neil and I could never forget him. The love I had for both men were on different levels, but the same plane.

Neil had made his way out of the bathroom, naked as well, stroking himself. I suppose the act was too erotic for him to miss out on. The sight of my naked rat surprised me and aroused me so greatly I knotted us prematurely.

"GAH!" Ritch said.

"Sorry bout that."

Neil walked over, camera in hand, and got a good angle. We picked up the pace of our knot fucking, bucking faster and harder, our shafts massaging our innermost depths and our knots giving us that full feeling we needed to sent over the edge.

Neil came....

I came....

Ritch came...

It was all such a blur, the actual act of the sex, I know it was good. Neil was kind enough to help the two of us into a bath, and then into bed. Neil kissed me deeply and told me he'd see me in the morning. Obviously, Ritch and I had a lot more catching up to do.

* * *

New York City, A few months Prior, 2:20 PM Atlantic Time

* * *

His crotch bulged nicely underneath the taut and skimpy swimming garment. It proved he was adequately male, but was by no necessary means over endowed. The sun caught the black fabric, and glistened off the special mesh of the tight athlete's swimsuit, making the bulge slightly more pronounced. He was erect by no means, entirely limp, but endowed enough that the semi-moist piece of clothing. Moving back, he had legs of fine muscle, very defined muscular structure, as if he was a runner or did a lot of work on the legs. With the exception of a crude network of scars on his left knee, the male's naked legs were flawless.

Above his waist, was an adequately formed torso. It showed sings of once being particularly lean and stacked with muscle, but since had lost the firmness of the muscle, and was more just skinny and good looking rather than that of it's former athlete self. The arms retained a bit more of their tone from physical therapy sessions, and from just spending time at the Gym. Swimming was his biggest influence of his workout routine, and gave his knee just the amount of strain it needed to stay working.

His equally black hair was slicked back. Combed after climbing out from his swim. He was tanning now, and he wished to look his best while he caught the afternoon sun. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses that cost more than some people make in an average paycheck. His black lips were level...even. Not a frown or a smile. They were at rest, relaxed. His eyes, unseen behind the fine sunglasses, rolled behind his eyelids as he thought, and lightly napped without realizing it. He could nap while thinking he was awake, it was eerie sometimes.

His fur was a light brown around most his body, and whitish brown on his torso, crotch, and inner thighs. His rabbit tail was white, and wiggled every so often between the holes in the lounge chair. He was comfortable, a rarity for him.

His pool was built into the roof of a New York high-rise, his penthouse next to him. He'd worked hard to get there, and would fight to keep it. The guys splashed in the pool, he payed of no mind. Friends...if he'd dare call them. A raccoon and his black wolf lover. He'd invited the pair over to talk business over a good swim. It was...a quick set of talks. He normally didn't conduct business with that pair. Not that he had anything agianst them. Next to him, lounging nearly nude, on her back was a rather large breasted, 36-20-36 style female wearing the skimpiest of thongs, and going topless for the moment. Her bronze mounds were tempting in this sunlight. Normally, Mercedes his secretary helped...smoothe over negotiations. However upon meeting Jack and his S.O., business wasn't conducted as normal. Oh sure everything went fine, but Mercedes was more at a loss of what to do.

"Alex? You sure I shouldn't try again?" She asked as she sat up, unabashed at her state. Her long blond hair was done in a swimming braid, but normally was worn one of a thousand different ways.

He grumbled something, the splash of one of the lovers in the pool interupted what he said, meaning he'd have to repeat it. "They Mercedes, have decided to decline on the normal 'party favor' I tend to offer my clients. They seem to do business a little differently than the others you've met before."

She thought what must have been long and very hardly on that, as she turned and looked at the men in the pool, then back at Alex. "So they aren't going to fuck me?"

Alex raised a black eyebrow from under the sunglasses. "If they do, dear Mercedes, be sure to tell me in a detailed memo, for something like that would be worthy of dictation since the chances of it happening are better than Pan-Am ever does of flying again."

Again, the doe thought on that. It was as if Alex could hear the wheels grinding in her head, and the sound annoyed him. "Mercedes dear, if you feel the need to conduct negotiations, Keoni and Le Ling are rather lonely."

She pouted. "But...I did them on Sunday already..." She whined.

Alex raised a lip in a slight snarl, much like someone would raise a hand in warning. "Then go file or type or something. Do something or someone, I don't care, just stop moving that hole in your face to make talking sounds. You're much better at taking another form of dictation than you are speaking. Your speaking has the same tendencies that could drive third world countries to destroy one another because the starvation and disease wont do it fast enough."

She gave a light sigh and stood looking towards the penthouse. "So its okay if I go inside?"

Alex lowered his snarl, he was wasting energy, and he knew it. He grumbled something that sounded like a yes. Mercedes walked, breasts bouncing as she walked towards the penthouse. If it wasn't for the splashing, she could of swore he heard her greeting someone as she walked by. No matter.

Alex sat forward a minute. The pair of lovers were taking turns lifting one another onto their shoulders and dropping them backwards into the pool with a splash. He'd seen children do it, but in adults, only men of Jack's caliber seemed to still enjoy playing that game with one another. The two were wearing bright colored speedos Alex had bought them for the party. One had worn a bright green, the other a bright orange. Alex had felt that he had died and gone to Miami Hurricanes swim meet. Too bad he was a Florida State fan. Jack, the raccoon, had been a business rival in years past, but with purchases and buyouts, Jack wanted to stay in business. Mergers are great...most of the time. It was the first time Jack had done business with the homosexual run business Lambada Broadcasting. It was a radio and television network that had started in 1998 when sexually orientated businesses became more open. While it would probably have been more profitable to merely buy out the floundering production company, knowing that Fletch-Co had another few building blocks to the metaphorical ivory tower and the hands to build it, he was happy.

Fletch-Co, man how many years had it taken to get that to become what it is now? He remembered back when he was just fresh out of college with his business degree. He was cooking vegetables at The Crooked Carrot. It was long, boring work, and he literally had to work his way up to where he was now.

But looking at the homo's in the pool, they were watching a rather amusing sight. A fat, bloated thing of a rabbit in a blue business suit, trying to keep from getting his fine shoes wet, walking around the deck like it was a minefield. He carried some newspapers under his arm, and had to adjust his glasses every so often. The pair in the pool had to stop themselves from pulling the pathetic looking rabbit into the water, that and a slightly disgusted look from Alex made them hold their place.

"Fabian Grizzard! What are you doing here?! You were instructed to stay at the office until negotiations were concluded!"

The fat man adjusted his mustache, and finally got over to where Alex was. "If I may say so, it looks like there weren't any negotiations going on. Mercedes is on her way to the street to have some fun it looks like. And with that swimsuit sir..." Fabian said in a nervous manner that hinted at flabberghastation.

"Cut the crap. That the hell are you doing here, and what do you want?"

The fat rabbit gulped and took a moment to look away from his boss. "Remember the wife and kids..." he always told himself. He waved to the men in the pool. "Hello Mr. Suade!"

Jack the raccoon waved back in a whatever kind of wave, picking up on Alex's disapproval of his presence.

"Grizzard! You're attention to ME!" Alex barked.

Fabian turned around and instantly started stuttering. It was as if he was trying to get a message out, but couldn't finish. It turned into a Dom Delouse impersonation. He sounded a lot like the heavyset comedian, and wondered if they were related. Alex often laughed at the antics of Delouse when he was younger, but seeing it every day made it like a bad rerun.

"Stop jibbering so I can yell at you."

The stuttering slowed and eventually stopped. "Sorry sir, it's just that..."

Alex groaned and rubbed his temples. "Grizzard, I gave you simple orders, and you failed to follow them. Do I need to remind you that you have 7 children you're trying to support, and the paychecks that I gave you have been generous haven't they?"

Grizzard nodded very slowly, "Yes sir. Oh very generous, you've been the best to me."

Alex nodded and laid back down. "That's what I thought. Now Grizzard I assume you brought those newspapers for me?"

Fabian fumbled with them, nearly dropping the pile of papers. Apparently there was a wide assortment. Odd even for a brown nose like Grizzard. "Oh yeah, there's something you got to know-"

Alex snatched the papers and frowned at Fabian. "Grizzard, if there is something I'm supposed to know, I'll find it out for myself. Now go fall into the pool."

Another wave of stuttering. "Buddah-jah-wheee-whodda what? You mean, fall in? Like with all my clothes on? I'm all dressed though..."

Alex pointed to the entrance of the penthouse to the deck, where two large rabbits stood. One was white, with slanted eyes, the other was a darkish brown, and he was a giant if there ever was one. They were the "goons" as everyone called them. Keoni and Le Ling. This was Alex's way of asking him if he really wanted to deal with the fury of the goons. Fabian gulped and turned around. He walked over to the pool with the two homosexual business executives in it, and with the precision of a speared whale, belly flopped in. There was applause from Jack and his mate, and the goons. Fabian stood there, more embarrassed than anything, his 400$ suit he bought for work, utterly ruined. Alex was satisfied. "Now swim Grizzard, meet my new clients, apparently I have news to read..."

As Fabian did as he was told, wading over in his ruined suit to the amused pair, Alex sat forward and looked at the News Papers. Apparently something had to be big with how many there were. The New York Times, The Chicago Tribune, The Los Angeles Post, The Oregonian, The San Diego Post, The Seattle Sentential, USA Today, Wall St. Journal.

He picked a neutral one, The Oregonian. For a west coast newspaper, it had a pretty good following considering it was pinned between Washington and California. He looked at the banner headline. His eyebrow went up.

"Loco Landlord Goes Postal: Los Angeles landlord and businessman Michael Fletcher commits sexual crime, attempted murder, then takes his own life"

"What?!" he said as he tossed the newspaper over his shoulder, the papers going over the wall and falling innocently back to earth. He pulled out the San Diego news paper, they posted just about the same thing. New York Times, Chichago, and Seattle had an article on the second page, and Wall St. Journal had a whole page. USA Today mentioned it also as it's banner headline. But the Los Angeles newspaper had pictures.

Alex stood and leaned on the safety rail as he looked at the article.

"Churchill Estates Landlord Causes Chaos

Local Landlord and businessman Michael Fletcher was pronounced dead after police arrived on the scene yesterday. Fletcher, in his 30's, was a rather successful owner and superintendent of the historic Churchill Estates in downtown's tower district. The building itself survived the recent earthquake, but some residents left out of fear.

Michael Fletcher was found dead as a result of a self inflicted gunshot wound. Fletcher before taking his own life shot Los Angeles based adult entertainer Ishanka "Lotus" Tani. Tani is in critical condition at Queen of Angels hospital, along with Fletcher's other victim, Asher (no last name was provided.). Fletcher earlier in the day kidnapped, sodomized, and attempted to kill Asher, leaving him for dead in a dumpster not far from his home. Asher is in dire condition, but doctors are hopeful he will live. Asher suffered severe damage to his rectum, spine, and knees. During the assault, it is believed a toxic substance entered Asher's eyes and it is believed his sight will not recover.

Renee Morningstar-Simonson, Actor for Universal Studios, spoke to us about the incidents and Michael Fletcher.

'Fletcher was a cold hearted individual, and had a lot of problems with me and my roommates. He often attacked our sexuality, and made life difficult for everyone around him. He once pushed and elderly person over who had difficulty being mobile, out of sheer petulance. He was a horrible person, and I stand on record as saying I will not mourn his death after what he did to my friends.' (continued next page)"

Alex shook, and wasn't aware he dropped the paper this time. There were pictures in this one. A smiling portrait of Michael in his wire frame glasses with his ears pulled back in a fine suit. Another was a picture of hospital people carrying out his body. Alex knew it was his brother's by the feet sticking out from under the blanket. There wasn't a head...oh god there was no head. In another picture he had seen Renee Morningstar, and some sports star covered in blood, being interviewed by some no name reporter. The big lug of a sports hero was blubbering all over Renee. Morningstar was pointing at the person he was talking to, looking rather pissed. That didn't matter.

"Mercedes! MERCEDES!" He shouted. But the doe did not arrive as she was programmed to. She was elsewhere. "Grizzard! GRIZZARD!"

There was a lot more stuttering, and a lot of splashing as the goons hoisted the fat bloated rabbit out of the water realizing the guy couldn't get out. They set him down as he walked with wet squishy steps to Alex. "Oh...oh Gee....yessir?"

Alex grabbed Fabian by the throat and started to move him to the safety rail, backing him up to it and leaning him over the edge, almost dangerously. "WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST SAY IT?!"

Fabian went into a Delouse like fit of panics and stuttering and Alex groaned and dropped him back to the deck safely.

"No matter. Fabian, get on the line, get those guys out of my pool, get my close and equipment ready. We leave within the hour."

Fabian looked up, confused. "For...where?"

"For the city of Angels...seems we have a devil to take care of, and a building to manage...as well as a call to Mother to make...Oh...and I suggest you all wear black...we have a funeral to attend..."