# Socially Awkward.

Author: Roofles
Tags: No-Yiff, Various Species, friends, language



Socially
Awkward

Just
a Night in with the Guys
By
Roofles


 It
was later than any of us had planned and yet here we still all were,
at the table playing cards. The beer bottles had to be taken away so
a new round could be brought in. Lars was cool enough to let us crash
at his place in the sub basement. That's right, sub basement.


 Lars
was a large beaver and an old high school friend of mine. He liked to
live in a burrow, the top part of his house just for show while the
basement and sub basement was where anything actually happened. He
had a fetish, I swear, for wood carvings and the whole sub basement
looked like a hunting lodge.


 The
couch had wooden arm rests, the cushions were made of some faux
leather but looked and felt just like the real thing. There were deer
horns on the wall, donated for "Art" by a local artist seeing as
how he shed the things after mating season.


 Lars
was a carpenter, like his family before him, and had constructed a
fire place in the corner with a nice stone finish hearth in front of
it. There were more cushioned chairs set up nearby, facing a very
large screen tv we had watched the game on. The floor was a polished
wood with several decorative rugs spread out over it so our claws
didn't scuff it. Even the stairs leading down here was just a bunch
of wooden logs placed and cut properly.


 I
was behind the bar in the corner, making up some more drinks for me
and the guys. I wasn't the best at it but like many of my jobs, I got
the job done. I'm just a humble hyena, a jack of all trades that
knows practically everything one needs to know but not mastering in
anything.


 Not
like these guys were expecting anything more than a cold brooski. I
placed the drinks down on a tray and held a single hand underneath to
carry them over to the table. It was a nice thing, a gift from all of
us after Lars whore of a wife left him for the gardener.


 The
game table fit in perfectly down here and it looked like Lars took
inspiration from it and just built outwards to make this place so
comfortable. This place was defiantly a man cave.


 "Brooze
up." I joked, carefully taking the martini glass and setting it
down for Art, a rather handsome buck I can't lie. His horns were
still coming in and the buck kept scratching at the velvet skin
around them.


 "Thanks."
He grunted looking at his hand. I loved the guy but man he wasn't the
brightest tool in the shed. I could practically hear the gears in his
head turning as he tried to figure out if his hand was good, ok or a
piece of shit.


 "Another."
I just said placing a tankard down in front of Donnie, a polar bear
that made his own home brew. He brought a cask of the stuff over
every now and then to make sure there was plenty stocked. Let me put
it this way, I nor any of the guys actually drank the stuff. It was
some of the strongest tasting booze I've ever had the misfortune of
putting in my maw.


 Donnie
was a man of few words and I figure it was mostly due to this stuff.
It kept him awake during the winter time but it didn't keep a level
head on the big lug. He drank enough that he had to bring a fresh
cask over every game night.


 "And
the classic." I added setting down a bloody Mary in front of
Randal, a very large black rat.


 Randal
grunted, sliding a full stack of blue chips in and laid down his
hand. "Read 'em and weep!" And then they did. It was a nice two
pair of twos and fours. Art laid his hand down, cursing about losing
the big jackpot.


 And
it was Lars to collect after laying down three eights. The beaver
smugly, slowly took the pot over to his side of the table.


 "Fucking
prick." Randal grumbled, sitting back down and taking half of the
bloody Mary down. I liked the guy, but not at first. Randal had the
mouth of a sailor and a body of... well one too. Fat gut, muscular
arms and apparently served in the navy go figure. I always thought he
was sort of a dick but that was before Lars told me about his charity
work.

 Randal
donated half, half of every paycheck to several different foundation.
Spending nearly every Sunday at the soup kitchen after Mass. Never
judge a book by it's cover, I guess.


 "Then
the dumb cunt," as I said before Randal wasn't the most friendly.
"Tries to charge me for the extra portion! She was the dumb bitch
who forgot what I ordered an then had the nerve to bring me that
bill."

 "Sounds
about right." I just played along, taking my seat next to him.
Ethan was on my right and rolled his eyes for me.


 I
liked Ethan. He was a chill Opossum that had some of the shitties
life stories I've ever heard. Dude grew up in the slums, his mother
ended up being a drug addict and child services took him and his
brother away, separating the two. He hadn't seen him since. He only
ended up at an overcrowded foster home where the "matron" as she
liked to be called was, go figure, a drunken drug dealer and was,
from the sounds of it, the cheapest bitch I've ever heard of. After
being abandoned, like most the other kids, he ended up supporting
himself while going to school full time and then had the misfortune
of being audited by the IRS randomly, who then found out he had been
neglecting his taxes due to being paid under the table. And that was
just the tip of the iceburg of shit that was his life. Made me
thankful for what little I had.


 "So
I heard you were let go?" Randal abruptly changed the subject, most
likely making the connection of bitch waitress to bitch boss. "In a
text message?" He bared his teeth, flexed his arms and was rather
intimidating I can't lie.


 "Yeah.
She sent me a text after doing a Fourty hour shift." And I
shrugged. "Said all this bullshit, lies and ignoring all the
illegal shit she herself was doing."

 "Want
me to cut her breaks?" Randal asked, I thought he was joking at
first.


 "Nah,
I hate the ho' but I don't want the family suffering cause of that."

 "Man,
I feel ya'." Lars butted in. "I want to snap my bosses neck every
time that prick walks in the door. He had the gull to ask me to come
over and do his deck for him! Pro bono! The fuck, just cause he
bought his way through school and can't hammer a nail into a board,
means I'd help that prick out."


 Donnie
grunted, putting down a flush ace high. Lucky bastard.


 "Should
really look into opening up your own place." Art jumped in,
shuffling the deck neatly. He used to work for a casino apparently, I
still didn't know what he did for a living these days. It seemed rude
to ask, seeing how long we've known each other now. I've just been
waiting for him to come out and say it. "Wouldn't have to deal with
that shit."

 "Trust
me, I wish I could." Lars groaned.


 "Could
just do a portfolio of this place." I laughed, grinning from ear to
ear. A force of habit really. Nature's a bitch. I laugh. I laugh a
lot and it's loud and annoying. Think that's why my first boyfriend
broke up with me actually.

 The
guys were cool and didn't seem to care much. We all just were who we
were here and I truly appreciated that. It was like a tick for me,
just something sets it off and there I go laughing my head off.

 The
upstairs door opened and slammed shut and we could all hear the heavy
steps of Drew, our neighborhood grumpy Skunk. He was carrying several
pizza's in his hands as he came into view.

 "About
time, fuck. I'm starving!" Randal shouted over at him, lighting up
another cigar before getting up and heading over. "The fuck took
ya' so long! Shit man, trying to kill me?" The rat said around the
cigar in his muzzle.


 "Fuck
off. I got pulled over by the cops, again." The skunk just shouted
back. One good thing about being in the sub basement. None of the
neighbors could hear us. "Fucking prick holier than though dog,"
and we all winced as he said the D would. Well other than Randal.
"Fucking canine can't even just I want to..." He rambled a bit.


 Drew
was a hot headed guy. He hated dogs, and any other species that had a
good sense of smell. He was a skunk after all and the stigma of that
had followed him throughout his whole life. Police tended, for
whatever reason, to be canines. And this wasn't the first incident he
had been pulled over. A police dog was trained to smell booze, drugs...
whatever in order to catch criminals. Drew always apparently smelled
like his butt was full of it.


 Weed
wasn't legal here yet and the cops just loved catching stoners and
locking them up, because... well they have a hard on for it? I don't
know.


 "Do
you have any Marijuana?" Drew said in a very convincing southern
drawl, mocking the police dog who had most likely asked. "I smell
Marijuana. Can't fool this nose. For fuck sake!" His stopped the
accent at the end. "No one says Marijuana anymore. Fucking prick,
butt sniffing, ball licking canine douchebag."


 "They
have to bring in or book or pull over so many people every month."
Art said without thinking, looking at the new hand dealt to him.

 "So
it's ok for them to discriminate against me?" Drew said from the
other side of the counter. The skunk might've been pissed as hell but
he was kind of enough to get dishes out for all of us and was plating
the pizza. Randal had already eaten two pieces before I even saw
which kind Drew ordered.


 "I-I
never said that!" Art said, getting flustered and embarrassed over
it. Art always meant well but sometimes you can't explain it with
facts and logic. Specially when Drew was on a war path. The skunk had
even advocated for a special circumstances in the "War against
drugs." Hoping if he could do it legally, not that he did from my
knowledge. He could rub that in their noses rather than their noses
rubbing his butt.


 I
decided to defuse the situation before Art really got it from the
skunk. "What you're not into that?" I started off with, and
usually that was all we needed to go on.


 "I
like a man in uniform as much as the next guy," Drew clarified.
"But they don't even give me a reach around! Duh fuck is that!"
He practically shouted but was laughing now and had a large grin on
his face.


 "I'm
a sucker for the police uniform myself." I admitted.


 "Whore."
Randal chuckled, sitting down next to me. He had a whole pizza for
himself. As I said before, the rat was a fat bastard.


 "Please,"
I gave him a wink though. "You couldn't afford me."


 We
talked about drinks, about the game and the season. We talked about
work, life and the bitch that it was. But mostly, by the end of the
night, we talked about one thing.


 "Bare
back." Donnie cut in abpuptly. He hadn't spoken for nearly half an
hour and that's what he said. So of course I got off on it, giggling
as if I just did a like of Prozac.


 "I
like doggie better." I said only for the joke to follow. "That
way I don't have to look at them."

 Randal
got a kick out of that and slapped my knee, hard. "Whore." He
said once more and I rolled my eyes. Whatever makes people laugh I
say.


 "I
don't get that." Drew said. "You got to do so much work. I rather
just lay back and let the twinky bastard do all the work."


 "What
if they're bad though?" Ethan offered in, glad to join the
conversation. He was the youngest member of our group and didn't have
much... insight into these things. I swore he learned more about the
fucked upness of life here than he ever would on the streets.


 "That's
when you toss 'em out!" Randal said loudly and I laughed, again, at
that.

 "I
don't know. Sometimes it's worth the effort to train them for future
events." I gave a shrug.


 "Nope."
Art cut in, looking up at me. He looked at me a little too long and I
ended up flushing, looking away at the end. I had a bit of a crush on
the shirtless buck. "Doesn't matter if they're good or not. It's
how you feel about them."

 Randal
snorted so hard at that I swear a bit of booze came out his nose, as
he wiped the back of his arm against it the next second. "Dude,
that's fuckin' gay." He laughed and we all had a good bit of fun at
Art's cost.


 The
buck was a good guy. A simple man. Raised from a heavily Christian
family in the south and showed his upbringing like he was now showing
his hand.


 "Sex
and love having nothing in common." Lars was happy to jump in on.
"Hell, I'd know." And we all shared a laugh, I made sure to keep
an eye on the skunk to be sure he was ok. Drew was engaged or
married. I wasn't sure which. Either way she ended up cheating on him
with the gardener of all people and one long soap opera later they
broke up or got a divorce. Once more, it changes on who you ask as
Lars hated to talk about the nitty-gritty details of the affair.


 "Take
me for example." The beaver went on, chewing a bit on some sort of
candy maple treat. "I was with that bitch for nearly Five years of
my life and never once did I love her while we were doing it." And
that got a laugh out of Randal, Lars and Donnie. The oldest members
of our group.


 "At
least you were getting some." Drew teased, looking over at Randal.


 The
rat sat up a bit and glared at the skunk. "Watch it." He warned.


 "Come
on, it's true isn't it? In the navy for how long? And who knows what
Carrel was doing that whole time. Get home and," Drew always did go
a step too far and stopped mid sentence as Randal got it.

 Randal
didn't say anything and stormed off for the bathroom, I assumed.


 "Good
job." I ended up saying with a roll of my eyes.


 "Uh..."
Ethan added looking between us.


 "Long
distance doesn't work, kid." Drew just said taking another drink.
"You both have to be a hundred percent committed on it. Both got to
strive and work for it. And still, even after all that? The chances
of it working? Slim. To. None." And the skunk shrugged.


 "That's
why Randal hates foxes." I said under my breath, looking over at
where Randal had disappeared too. I gave a stretch. "Like anyone
needs a reason to hate a fox though." I chuckled feeling a bit
vindictive on the subject.


 I
lost an award in school to a fox. Because they wanted someone good
looking to be in the newspaper column.


 "Sluts
and whores. Bitches and ho's!" Drew practically sang holding up
rocker fingers in the air and sticking out his tongue. I never
noticed that his tongue was pierced. "Still better than huskies."
Drew added his own crude form of racism on the subject. I stayed off
the subject, knowing Drew's past with the police and a certain husky
that the skunk had to press charges against.


 We
continued playing cards until Randal got back.


 The
second he took a seat I jumped in before anything else could come up
on the subject. "Favorite fetishes, go!" I said a bit too loudly.

 Dead
silence met my request. Then everyone laughed.


 "Someone
wants to get something off their chest!" Art laughed, scratching at
his horns.


 "Or
out of his pants." Drew added slyly, giving me a crude winking
smile.


 "Whore."
Randal was glad to jump in on.


 "Please."
I laughed, having to adjust my seating position a bit. Getting
uncomfortable at the response. "I'm an open book-," I began.

 "Whore."
Randal said again.


 "And
I got nothing to hide." I added giving a good knuckle punch to the
rat's arm. Randal didn't even flinch and it felt like I broke my
middle finger. How was I suppose to drive now?


 No
one really jumped on board and I was worried things might get on
another uncomfortable subject, so I took a different route.

 "Ok,
what's the weirdest fetish you've come across?"


 "Puppy
play." Drew said almost the second I finished. "Dude wanted to
wear a collar and a leash and be," he shuddered noticably. "House
trained." We all gagged a bit on that. "The fuck is with dogs."

 "Speaking
of dogs!" Art said, leaning forward a bit now glad to have
something to contribute. "I was with this doe the other day,"
Drew groaned at that. He hated hearing about woman. "She wanted to
be tied up."

 "Oh
no, not that." Randal rolled his eyes at the lame BDSM story. He
was the king of bad BDSM stories.


 "No,
no I'm not finished!" Art said a little too excitedly, clearly just
glad to have something to talk about on the subject. "She wanted to
be dressed up like a cat. And then for me to put on a dog suit and
fuck her." There was a moment of silence as he looked around the
table. "And she already owned the suits!"

 "Oh
whoa! Ew," Drew shuddered. "The fuck."


 "I
know right!" Art said, still very enthusiastically.


 "What's
up with that! People wanting to pretend to be dogs and cats and
shit." Ethan said, though I could tell he was just going along with
us at this time.


 "Society!"
Randal said, stabbing a finger onto the table. He was clearly getting
tipsy now. "They push it into our heads that the only good ones out
there are dogs and cats. And the rest of us should just crawl into a
hole and curse the fact we weren't born to be another inbred,
mindless slave." Randal ranted for a bit. I forgot how
anti-government, society, military and well anything he could be.
Anything popular, he hated. He couldn't even be a hipster as
apparently that was now a thing.


 Art
listened far too intently taking his words as if they came from the
good book itself.


 "I
once walked in on somebody sniffing my laundry." Drew said out of
the blue, most likely like myself trying to change the subject before
Randal really got started.


 "Why?"
Ethan asked, the poor innocent youth.


 "It
was my gym bag!" Drew just shook his head. "Man you think I smell
bad now," he joked but we all knew it wasn't something we ourselves
were allowed to joke about. "Swore the dude was getting off on it!
It was at the gym and I took off my stuff to take a shower." And he
shuddered to finish his statement.


 "Freaky."
Ethan said.

 "That's
a good question, actually." I said thinking about it from what the
opossum said. "Where does the line go from kinky to freaky?"


 Drew
scratched his chin, mulling that over.


 "When
she asks for you to take a dump on her chest." Donnie, of all
people, was the first to answer. And a dead silence fell once more,
and we all cracked up laughing after that one.


 The
night went on for some time like this.


 One
thing I liked about hanging out here. It was real. It was crass and
blunt, dirty really but it was real. There was no sugar coating to
things. We just said how we felt, none of us going too far on the
subject either. We'd joke about politics one second, talking about
sports the next and then spend an hour figuring out if reverse
missionary was ok for Art when he got married. I did it mostly just
to see the big buck blush.


 After
the poker was done, we did a few rounds of blackjack as Donnie said
he'd have to retire. And promptly went over to the couch to fall
asleep. Lars spent most the time after that cleaning and polishing
things up, having taken an almost obsession on this man cave he had
built by his own two hands after his marriage fell through.


 Ethan
and I kept talking for a bit but the kid ended up needing a ride
home, don't get me wrong. He was twenty four but compared to the rest
of us he was still a kid. One of us took the poor guy under his wing
and ever since we sort of watched out for him. Randal ended up taking
him.


 Which
left me and Art to crash in front of the tv. Some show was on and I
hardly recall which one it was. Maybe it was a rerun of the news,
could've been from all I remember. We were sitting on the floor next
to the couch, for reasons why I can't remember. All I recall is that
my face was right next to Donnie's crotch.


 "I
didn't make Randal made, did I?" Art asked, scratching at his
horns.


 "Nah,
he's always like that." I waved it off. "We're all damaged," I
chuckled a bit. "Everyone is. You did nothing wrong, bud." I just
shrugged and rested back a bit, I recall my leg bumping against Art.
He didn't pull away though as he rested back, using one hand to
scratch at his horns still.


 "Just
figure I had something to talk about today." He frowned a bit.

 "I
had a good laugh about it." I assured him and he brightened up just
a little bit at that. "We've all been there." I teased, poking
his side. He giggled a bit.


 "Well
yeah, I just haven't done as many crazy things as you guys do." It
took him a moment then both his ears perked up and looked at me as if
he were staring into headlights. "Wait you have done that?"


 "Something
like that," I confessed and he smiled a bit more. I think he
scooted closer then.'

 "Did
you uh... enjoy it?" He asked a bit timidly, his voice slightly
scratchy as if his throat had gone dry.


 "A
bit of things, yeah." I just chuckled. "I've done things here and
there and ups and downs, reverse, backwards." I stopped a bit,
flushing a bit at how close he was now. I didn't like to brag about
my experience, one reason why Randal called me a whore. I only ever
did anything with people I was with but still.


 "Ah,
I just figured you'd understand." Art just chuckled a bit, looking
down. He put a hand on my knee and I felt fifty degrees hotter. "You
always did." He just repeated. "Never teasing me or anything. I
just could always confide in you."

 I
moved closer, he did too. He initiated but I didn't stop the kiss,
pressing a hand against his strong, muscular chest and running my
dull claws through his thin but coarse fur. I held his shoulder and
he grabbed my waist roughly pulling me closer. Our tongues met,
dancing together in his then my muzzle. I could taste him. And it was
good.


 I
wanted to push him back, to climb on top of him and straddle his
hips. He beat me to the punch and I was on my back and Art was
holding my wrists tightly now, sitting with both his knees against my
hips, pinning me down. He forced himself on me. And I whined
pitifully against him, helpless as he just grinded down against me.


 Have
you ever had a dream that was so good you never wanted to wake up
from? Then you did? And you tried and tried again to go back to
sleep? This was one of those nights. The front of my briefs were wet
and I needed to jerk it hard or take a very long, ice cold shower.


 I
woke up with a hangover, horny as a rutting mule and trying not too
hard to stare at Art sleeping on a good few feet away, shirtless with
the front of his pants popped open and his blanket pulled down just
below his hips. Ok, so maybe this was why Randal called me a whore as
I did look and, making sure no one else was looking, took a picture
on my phone.


 I
made sure to splash my face several times with cold water as I tried
to think of not handsome half naked bucks in the other room. I
couldn't help myself. He was just my type. The straight, Christian
goodie goodie boy was my type. Just my luck. I had no interest in
foxes or huskies, always hiking up their tails at the first
provocation.


 I
was gay. I liked men. Men with nice amble bodies, strong muscle, a
gut, big paws, strong legs, a sturdy frame and horns you could hold
onto as you rode them like a milk maid in a rodeo... Not twinky
little femboys that were all skin and bones that you were afraid of
snapping in half the second you mounted them.


 So
I just took the town to calm down, took a leak to try and ease some
tension out of me and just thought of what I'd do for dinner tonight.
Some mundane task to get my mind out of the gutter. Still the thought
of tying up the buck, hanging him up and climbing on for a little
fun made it impossible for me to stick around. Wasn't about to paw
one out here, I'm not an animal.


 I
gave Lars a bro hug goodbye, turning my groin to face away and
quickly got my furry butt out of there. Funny, as the only thing I
kept thinking about after that night was just how much I needed a
drink.

Source: https://sofurry.com/view/955474