FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"No! This is fucking stupid, why should I?!" Maxwell hollered, pointing at his chest, a warm PS3 controller grasped tight in his hand-pawed grip.

"Because if you don't, nobody else will, dude! Please?" Maile asked again, trying to hand Sammy's leash off to the shep-coon, only to be actively rejected. Max refused to grab the nylon strap, instead resuming his video game, blatantly ignoring his band-mate.

"C'mon, Max, it isn't that difficult, is it?" Brad said. He reached down and gave Samson a tender caress on his head. The dog wagged his tail and lowered his ears, licking his wet canine nose, embracing the petting freely, mouth opened and panting fast. When Brad quit, Sammy looked up and nuzzled his nose against the fennec-hybrid's hand-paw, whining for more ear-rubs.

"Look, I admire the fact you came to me first, but no! I'm not taking Sammy to the goddam dog park! Have you even seen a dog park and the... ugh, the people who go to 'em?! I can't bear to associate with those psychos, but thanks anyways!" Max scoffed and resumed blowing up the enemy, failing to stay focused upon both Maile and Brad constantly butting in, interrupting his flow.

Maile knelt down besides Max, taking hold of his wrist and forearm with both her hand-paws, seeming to beg the shep-coon against all odds "But Max, I-"

"Thanks anyways!" Max chuckled, winked at Maile hurriedly and resumed playing, suddenly forgetting she was there at all.

Brad shook his head, sighing deeply. "Dude, at least give it a shot just this o-"

"Go to hell, Bradley-san. I ain't doing it!" Max said, scoffing, rolling his one good eye impatiently.

Brad and Maile looked at him, then at each other, shrugged their shoulders and left Max to dominate entire continents by himself, Maile pulling Sammy along her hip in a heeling gesture. Sam, however, refused to leave just yet. He pulled free from Maile's grasp and ran to Max, leaping up wide. "Woah, Sammy! Heel! Heel!" Maile shouted, scrambling back into Max's bedroom. Max saw Sammy approach from the farthest corner of his peripheral vision and while still playing he attempted to duck and dodge the crazy mutt's leaping charge, not quite making it. Maxwell got plowed from the side, Sammy's large shepherd paws pushing deep into Max's cheek and gut. He fell over off the chair in which he sat, grunting upon landing.

"Ow! Crazy fucker!" Max said in an outburst of shock and awe. His controller flew free from his tight-knit grip, landing in a basket of spare controller charging wires and jewel-covers filled with PS3 games. The enemies killed Maxwell's character off in a ferocious fatality as he groaned on the carpeted floor, trying to push Sammy's brutish weight off his body. Sammy licked at his cheek, yapping hysterically and pawing at his arm, scratching his bicep. Brad and Maile re-entered the room where Max played and lived during their off-time from touring on the open road and saw Sammy perched atop Maxwell with a wagging tail of sheer excitement. They both giggled exuberantly.

"Maile! Tell this damn dog to -ow, not the arm! No drool! No drool! Damn -hey, will ya tell him to get off me, for fuck's sake?! I can't -ah! Watch that paw, dude! Tryin' to castrate me or somethin'? G'tha fuck off, pendejo!"

Brad lunged forward with laughter, holding his arms to his chest to catch a wheezing strained breath, nearly falling over. Maile clapped and applauded Sammy's resilience, smiling wide, truly impressed.

"There. You see? Even ol' Samson wants you to come along, dude! C'mon, give this stupid game a break and let's go already!" Maile said, reaching towards the console system. Max tried to lunge at her but couldn't make it quick enough - she thumbed the power button. The console's indicator light blinked and after a few seconds the system beeped with a single chime, then went dead-silent. The TV displayed a blue line that indicated "TV Input Not Found".

"GOD. DAMN. SHIT." Maxwell said, growling at Maile, eye patch brimming with a red glow emanating from beneath, deep within his socket.

"Aww, quit your bickering, shep-coon! That was AWESOME! I've never seen your dog do that before, Mai!" Bradley said, sounding worn out from laughing, eyes strewn with hilarity tears.

"Honestly? Neither have I." Maile kneeled down and patted her thighs, capturing Sammy's attention. "Here, boy! C'mere, Sammy doggy!" Sam yapped aloud, leaping off Max's chest, hind-paws pressing into the shep-coon's groin with great pressure, then ran to Maile. He pressed his head into her chest, smothering his muzzle between the space of cleavage between her breasts and she giggled, petting the pooch with brisk scratches on his back and flank. Sammy loved when his master petted him like this. He conveyed his love by lifting his hind-leg and scratching at nothing, tongue jutting out loosely from the tip of his mouth, eyes drooping lazily. A very well-contented dog receiving quality attention.

"Fucking dog nearly stepped on my dick. I may not be able to jizz again, thanks to him. Crimony!" Max said, squinting and rubbing at his crotch. His arm felt pained with tooth indentations and nail scratches.

"So you gonna go with us or just lay here and mend your injured nuts all day?" Brad asked, brow cocked and grinning wide.

"I'm coming, fuck-ass. Just... give me a moment, will ya?" Max replied back to his guitarist-buddy with a snap and a snarl. He coughed and groaned aloud as his shep-coon balls clenched inward, feeling as if he had just been freed from a testicular vise-grip.

"We'll wait for you in the kitchen, Max!" Maile said, winking and clicking tongue-in-cheek. A fresh burst of excitement sprang forth from her voice and she hoisted herself upright, scampering to a hallway which lead from Max's bedroom straight into the kitchen, located upon the opposite end of Gus's home.

"What were you expecting, dude? You obviously didn't notice how gung-ho Sammy looked back there, too busy concentrating on your dumb game, I guess." Brad said, then chuckled upon reaching down to help Maxwell off the ground and onto his bed, pulling the shep-coon's dead-weight in a strained hoisting lift.

"You guessed right about that, man. What is that A-hole dog's problem, anyways?" Max asked. He was taking deep breaths, resting a bit after having clambered himself off the rug-strewn ground with Brad's help, looking through a teary eye at maroon-colored carpets in dire need of vacuuming.

"He was just excited to have you come with us, I guess! Seriously though... never seen the ol' dog react that way before. It was like he insisted upon your presence or something. Totally adorable!"

"Apparently. Sheesh. Mofucka ruined my game too." Maxwell added with a strain of contempt.

"Dude, Maile ruined the game. Besides, haven't you played the fuck out of that one?" Brad asked.

"Yeah, I guess. Still felt an itching urge to return to lost times though. Games nowadays are so... technical. So complicated. Thought I'd return to fairly nostalgic old-time roots, ya dig?"

"Ah, I can respect that." Bradley said with a nod of understanding.

"Yup. Except for a lack of a memory card, I was doing pretty damn well during this play-through. Almost made it to the final opponent." Maxwell smiled at Bradley, exchanging a glance of nerdy-gamer aura, most uncanny and vividly apparent. "It'll happen someday, dude. Give it faith." Bradley chuckled, patting Maxwell's back. Max stood up and stretched his arms over his head to feel his joints pop then stretched backwards to crack his back, feeling a couple spinal discs snapping, sounding like brisk reports of giant knuckles. Brad cringed at the sound while Max breathed deep and emanated a prolonged sigh of relief.

"So you're coming with us, right?" Bradley asked, clearing his throat and adjusting the collar of his flannel-shirt.

"I guess I am now. I'm sure ol' Sam-Sam would be broken-hearted if I didn't tag along, especially after that rumble-tumble he just gave me." Max said.

Bradley giggled. "Yeah, after throwing a spectacle like that? I wouldn't doubt it."

Maxwell patted Brad's back. "Thanks, man. I know I can be a jerk sometimes... it just takes a crazy feral to knock some sense into me. Ironic, if I do say so myself." Max smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Now leave me be in privacy for a few, eh? Gotta get my shit together. Shouldn't take too terribly long either."

"Sure thing, man! I'll go to the kitchen and rustle us up some grub before we hit the pavement."

"Cool. Oh, are we walking or riding to the stupid fucking park?" Maxwell asked.

Brad stood up and proceeded to head out from Max's room, then stood still in the door frame. He looked back at Max. "Riding. Maile figured it'd be a good idea, since we've got such a long way to go. Plus she wanted to give Sambo a little exercise before we left."

"I'm sure she did. You sure she didn't give Sammy a bout of exercise already earlier today? Y'know, the kind of exercise that involves getting knotted hard after the raising of one's ring-tailed ass, biting into a pillow for vocal constraint?" Max asked.

"Couldn't tell you for sure. Why don't you ask her yourself, ya bleeding-heart pervert?" Brad said.

Max shivered at the idea of bringing Maile & Sammy's personal business out into the open. "Touche."

"Yeah, just what I thought. I won't say anything if you don't say anything, dude. Fair?"

"Consider it a done deal. Fair is fair. Now please leave me be! Unless you want to help me scrub my nuts clean?"

"Um, I'll pass, thanks." Brad left the room. "Besides, do you even have 'em still? I saw how Sammy leapt off your lap earlier. Had to have hurt a little bit, eh pal?" Bradley uttered beneath his breath as he left the room, peeking back towards a slightly pained Maxwell, still rubbing his crotch irritatingly.

"I heard that!" Max hollered back at Brad, his voice now echoing through the hallway. Bradley cackled aloud and headed for the kitchen where Gus was preparing a hearty breakfast for the group before their venture forth to Grant's Pass Dog-Land, Southern Oregon's premier dog-park.

~

When the group arrived at Dog-Land in their makeshift touring/traveling van (courtesy of an old relative of Gus' inheritance), Gus found an ideal spot in front of a large pine tree, curbing the bumper to rest upon a cement park-stay. He asked the hybrids to roll down the van's windows to allow fresh air to circulate, since it smelled like Max's last toke-fest. As they did, a faint breeze of fresh forested air blew gusts through the stuffy leather-clad interior. Bradley inhaled a whiff of the crisp, pine-scented air and opened his eyes wide with anticipation. They had arrived for their day trip and the fennec-hybrid couldn't be more excited to meditate near a creek-bed that rushed along the other side of the street. He'd even brought a rolled-up Hindi quilt and an incense burner for such an occasion. Gus reflected upon Bradley with a nod of respect for self-expression. The man often encouraged his hired musicians to express themselves however they saw fit... Bradley's outlet lied in the practice of religious spirituality. Maxwell, however, habituated the finer aspects of living... sex, drugs and pissing off old ladies. Brad or Max hadn't been to Dog-Land in a literal average dog's age. Maxwell only came near the shit-clumped location to sell product to unsuspecting teens who loitered near a skate park located a few hundred yards nearby - the only neighboring location to the dog park in such a deep, forest-buried location. Other than a tiny cubicle-sized park ranger's station and two Port-a-Johns, the place was a total bore... to Max at least. At least the environment was pretty to gaze upon, majestic pine and cedar trees towering over their heads, providing exquisite shade. A hint of coastal fog drifted through the highest branches, visually obstructing the very tips of the trees. Ferns and moss grew wild all over the place, leaving large green patches upon the brickwork of the ranger station.

Maile didn't come for drugs or meditation. She was only excited to allow her pet to roam free and meet new dogs, to sniff butts and socialize with rubber chew-toys and marked trees drenched with territorial urine from many other dogs throughout the months past. The park's hexagonal shape fenced a large football-field-sized perimeter covered with grass patches a few dirt-mounds. The chain-link fence posts had tiny kiosks attached with plastic bag dispensers and green metal-lined refuse bins. Above the dispensers were signs that said: PLEASE TEND TO YOUR BUDDY'S DROPPINGS ACCORDINGLY! ENJOY THE PARK AND HELP TEND TO LITTER. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATRONAGE - DOG-LAND VOLUNTARY ASSOC.

"Gus, thanks again for that breakfast. I haven't eaten that well in the morning since I woke up with Brad's dad in a gay brothel." Max said.

"Bite me, shep-coon." Brad replied. "And yes, thank you very much for cooking for us this morning, Gus. It was very tasty!" The fennec-hybrid emphasized this statement by burping and rubbing his belly, covering his lip with an embarrassed gesture. "Oh! Pardon me. Jeez." Brad said.

Maile giggled and belched louder, causing Max to reel back with shock, jaw dropped agape. His expression seemed to scream: Woah! That's my girl! Hot damn! Bradley just nodded in agreement. "What the boys said, Mr. Stevenson. Thank you kindly for breakfast. It was quite satisfactory." Gus snickered and poked at the corner of his pudgy lip with his pinky finger.

"Oh gawrsh, it was nothin', really!" Gus said in a dainty high-pitched voice. The anthros giggled extensively, smiling simultaneously. Max rubbed Gus's balding head with a playful tussle of invisible hair then opened the sliding door to step out and stretch his back with crackling pops. Bradley squeezed Gus' hand lovingly and reached for his tote-bag, scooting himself out from the open van door. Maile opened the passenger-side door of the van and reached in past Brad to grab Sammy's leash. She circled around the van's back side and leaned in through the driver's side window to kiss Gus on his bristly unshaven cheek.

"Thanks for doing this, Gus. I really do appreciate it. Sammy does too. Don't you, boy?" Maile asked her pet. Samson wagged his tail and yapped up at Gus, green eyes brimming with ecstatic joy, muzzle curved wide with a large doggy-grin, ears perked up excitedly. Gus chuckled and opened the door to step out.

"Sure thing, kids! I'm glad we decided to do this after all." Gus said.

"Yeah, sure you are. It ain't no big thing anyways... just a shitty tourist attraction in the dead-center of an even shittier no-show locale. Thrilling, I say!" Max brayed out loud. A young couple with a bull terrier gave the shep-coon a disgruntled glare on their way through Dog-Land's front gate.

"Sorry, he's not a big fan of these places." Brad said to the couple, apologetic tone hindering his otherwise-calm voice, rendering his demeanor slightly nervous.

"I'd say so. Maybe someone needs to put him on a leash." The woman said, scoffing sardonically.

Bradley just shrugged with a smirk. He looked both ways up and down the street, then trotted across to settle down upon his favorite grassy patch, strewn with natural wildflowers, teeming with honeybees. The sound of the trickling brook and the chirping cry of ravens and mockingbirds would suit his fancy especially well this afternoon, he suspected. Brad inhaled a deep breath and sighed with relief, settling down cross-legged upon the comfy knoll of brush, gearing up to tend to his Taoist practices.

Maxwell had already been approached by a cute young cheetah-boy at the skate-park. The shep-coon approached the fence with a cool stride, gazing at the ramps, the rails, the planks and bowls. He watched young kids with elbow and knee-pads spinning tricks on BMX bikes and scooters, helmets floating through the air with liquid precision. Nearby, the tinny echoing sounds of Alice in Chains trickling with interfering radio-static coursing through wide open speakers of a boom box placed beside an open ice chest filled with bottled water. The shep-coon rested his hand-paws above his head, leaning up against the fence, watching the commotion of show-offs and hardcore skaters proving themselves to their fellow peers. He was so pre-occupied that he didn't even notice the young cheetah guy approach him from his left side. The feline wore a silver-streaked Mohawk with blue highlighted tips, purple mascara and hot pink lip piercings. He smacked the fence nearby Max's location, startling him into full-fledged attention.

"Yo! Whassup, fella? You gonna ride or just stare all day?" Cheetah-boy said.

"Dude, I'd hate to snap any of their boards in half with my metric-ton heavyweight ass." Maxwell replied without missing a beat.

"Ain't no thing, man! We'd just duct-tape the fucker back up again - problem solved!"

"Nah, my riding days are over. Come to think of it, they never even truly existed to begin with. Huh." Maxwell said, rolling his eye sarcastically. Cheetah-boy laughed and leaned against his skateboard, grip-tape worn off on its outer edges. A decal of a zombified Hello Kitty graced his deck-space. Max laughed at the sight. The cheetah youth saw Max admiring his deck design and grinned.

"Oh, you like? My sister designed it for me. She's goddam obsessed with Hello Kitty and I'm obsessed with zombies, so we put our brains together and here lies the result." Cheetah-punk said.

"It's quite awesome, I must say." Max said, nodding satisfactorily. He saluted the cheetah with two finger-paws upon his brow. "I'm Maxwell, by the way. You are?"

"Name's Sparky." The cheetah boy said with a wink and a click of his tongue, also pierced with a tiny 8-ball stud.

"Righteous." Max smiled at his new cheetah-buddy. "So, Sparky... you come here often?" Max asked.

"As often as I can, dude. I mean, there isn't really much else to do in this little dick-shit of a town, ya feel me? I'm originally from the great United Kingdom, so I always find it quite a cultural shock to come here. Unless a grunge group is playing nearby or something, I'm definitely outta my element. Know what that's like, mate?" Sparky said.

"Funny thing you should mention that, dude. I'm in a grunge-rock band." Max said, slightly blushing beneath his fur, feeling heat emanate from his cheeks.

"Oh yeah? Which one? I may have seen you before, dude." Sparky gazed at Maxwell attentively, trying to rekindle a memory.

"We're called Enim-Noinu. Just me and my two band-mates. I'm on Bass, my buddy Brad plays guitar, over there." Max pointed towards the creek-bed at Bradley, knee-deep in spiritual incantations. He was swaying on his Afghan quilt with a stick of incense placed gently upon his earlobe, humming aloud in a deep guttural tone that could've sounded quite creepy amplified with a megaphone. "And our drummer is this gal named-"

"Maile Martinez?" Sparky asked, eyes lit up with sudden happiness.

"Yes! The red panda hybrid." Maxwell said. He was excited that this young blood knew of at least one of the band's members.

"Ah, dude! You, Mr. Maxwell, are most lucky to play with her. Far out! Is she here right now?" Sparky asked.

"Yuppers. Down there, at that stupid-ass dog park with her pet shepherd. See?" Max pointed Maile out, throwing a Frisbee for Sammy to give chase to, retrieve and return, one of the pooch's favorite doggy pastimes.

"Duuuude! Far fucking out!" Sparky said. He laughed excitedly, sounding like a demented little space alien. Maxwell nodded with a grin, not sure what to make of this cheetah kid's sudden burst of maniacal happiness.

"Hey, shep-coon. Don't tell anyone else, this is between you and me, but..." Sparky looked around conspicuously and leaned closer to Max, bending his index-paw toward his whiskered round muzzle. Max leaned in to listen to what God-forbidden secret this young punk anthro had to share.

"I've jerked it to her before, y'know? During some shows of yours in the past... she's always so fiery-hot and passionate when she plays, I really can't control my urges, y'know? I mean... fuck, man! She's smokin' hot! Please don't tell her though, 'kay? I'd hate to make an ass of myself, y'know?"

Sparky whispered his schoolboy confession into Max's ear. The shep-coon just listened with a lack of interest. Another flirtatious love-struck fan-boy of hers to spill his guts to her fellow band-mates. Just wonderful. Instead of having this cutie blow Maxwell later on, he just wanted to sink his barbs into Maile's snatch. Fucking typical. She always seemed to play a curse of attraction upon anthro-guys like this, especially if they were younger than usual. Was it because Maile possessed a motherly identity? Or maybe her demonic features had a hypnotic brainwashing principle working beneath the seams of her overall fairly attractive visual representation? Max had never seen Maile in her truest form, nor has Bradley for that matter. They've never asked her out of sheer respect for her privacy and comfort. Maybe one day, the shep-coon would confront her with the burning question that just wouldn't quit, that just wouldn't give up, that just needed to be asked and clarified once and for all, just for pity's sake, just for-

"Oh! I'm getting a text from my girl, amigo. Say, it was nice shooting the shit with you, man! Look for me at your next show, okay? I'd love to get better-acquainted with you and your band, know what I mean? Maybe I can invite my gal so we can, like, engage in a jam-band session or something. That'd be fuckin' gnarly, dude. Heh!" Sparky winked and jutted his tongue out at Maxwell. Very kawaii. "Catch ya later, shep-coon!" The cheetah boy gave Max a peace sign and pushed off, rolling away on his skateboard toward the water-chest, head banging to AiC's tense audible aggression.

"Boy, wait 'til I tell Myley about this sordid development! She'll flip and shit ten bricks, I swear!" Max whispered to himself, stifling a blaring guffawed fit of outlandish laughter.

Gus sat on a bench inside the dog-park, watching the people and their pets engage in bonding activities. Maxwell hopped the fence and perched himself nearby Gus, who jerked up with shock to see Max appear so suddenly.

"Jack-ass, you scared me!" Gus said, bopping Max on his shoulder.

"Sorry Gussy-poo. So, you watching for a potential soul-mate among all the bitches or what?" Max said.

"In your wildest dreams, shep-coon." Gus said, preceded by a chuckle. "Actually I was trying to figure out where Maile went. She was playing with Sammy for a bit, throwing that Frisbee around. Now? I'm not sure where they are. Those two just go off on their own quite often, I swear. Ha! Guess its true what they say, you just can't keep a good dog down." Gus reached into his pants pocket and yanked a canister of fresh chewing tobacco free. He popped it open and pinched a wad, smooshing it against his gums below his jaw. He offered some to Max, who kindly refused with a dismissive wave of his hand-paw. Gus nodded and closed the puck-shaped tin can back up, stuffing the canister back into his pocket.

"You ever consider giving that shit up, Gus?" Max asked.

"What, and risk sobering you up? C'mon, Maxwell. We all have our vices. At least I'm not into heroin or anything." Gus said.

"Yeah, thank the Gods for that. I'd have to kick your ass if you were, dude. Just sayin'." Max said.

"You would've loved my old crew then. They were so goddam balls-deep in that smackaroonie that I thought they would all shrivel up and die with each new concert." Gus said. Max gave his touring manager a stern stare, attentive and reflective. "Was quite an ugly scene back then, until I decided to ditch 'em and hire you three instead. So far, y'all haven't let me down much at all. I mean, we've had a few scrapes here and there but in essence, I've been pleased with you guys. Very pleased." Gus exclaimed. Max caught a brief glimpse of a tear welling up in the corner of Gus' eyelid. The man had quite a way with sentimentality, definitely something that his hired musicians always admired best about their boss. Maxwell rubbed his thumb and index-paws together, rolling out a tiny piece of softened tissue paper, then handed it to Gus to dry his eyes off with. "You sure do make me proud, all of ya. Remember that, no matter what happens." Gus said through a tear-strained smile, sniffed deep and coughed, dabbing the sheet of Max's magic-strewn paper against his teary sockets. Gus rocked in his seat, chewed his tobacco, spat a wad into a cluster of wood-chips beneath the bench and looked around actively. Max rubbed his finger-paws against his temples, squinting his eye tightly. He'd never seen Gus act so sentimental before... it was a fairly trippy sight.

"I wonder where Maile went... do you know, shep-coon? Come to think of it, I haven't seen her for a while now. Maybe I shouldn't worry too much, but still." Gus said, voice slightly shaken from emotional exhaustion.

"Fuck knows! I can go track her dumb ass down if you want. Her puppy-doggy too."

"Maybe? I mean, no big deal but perhaps if you'd be willing to, I'd think-"

"Don't get your panties bundled in a wad, old-timer. I'll go find her. Hold on." Max stood up, patted Gus on his shoulder, and winked reassuringly. "I'm good at tracking down people, mind you."

Gus cocked his brow. "Yeah, you ain't bullshittin' 'bout that at all."

Max giggled. "See? No need to worry! Hang on, old-timer. I'll be back shortly."

"Kay! I'll just... chill out. Watch the dogs play." Gus said. He blew into Max's organically-combusted tissue and rolled it up into a wad, chucking it behind his head, arcing the ball of tissue right into a waste basket.

"Three points!" Max said, pointing dutifully with his fist-paw raised high.

"Boo-ya!" Gus pumped his fist with a smile and a wink.

Max laughed, then turned around and walked his way around the perimeter of the fence to find his drummer and her dumb-ass dog.

~

"Maile? Oh, Maile, Maile, Maile? Heeere, Maile, Maile! Fetch, girl! Heel! Come to daddy! Earth to Miss Martinez! Mai, where you at?" Max called out loud. A pair of elderly ladies sat on a nearby bench spreading gossip while their Scottish terriers yapped aloud, giving chase to each other. Best buddies playing tag. Max saw a Great Dane barking at squirrels in a tree outside the perimeter fence, wagging his horse-sized tail. If only the behemoth realized he could easily just hop the fence, since his shoulders damn-near came up to the edge of it. Max watched Huskies and Dalmatians, Pitbulls and Salukis, roughly ten different dog breeds all enjoying their day out to Dog-Land, making friends and having a blast, getting into all sorts of ruckus and barking their asses off. A Beagle tried to dry-hump an Akita with failed results, something Max found especially funny.

Meanwhile, a feral shepherd kept a close watchful eye on Maxwell. The dog watched Max walk, watched Max's tail swaying behind his steady gait, watched Max's arms swinging in tandem, brushing against his hips, tiny bristles of pine-needles stuck to his navy-blue tank-top, dreadlocks slightly glimmering from the rays of sunlight peeking through the coastal fog and tree-line canopy from up above. The feral shepherd watched Maxwell... licking his lips with anxious wanton desire.

"Goddammit, Maile, where the fucking hell are you anyways?" Max asked nobody in particular, growing impatient. He finally saw Samson's red nylon leash hung upon a far corner of the chain-link fence. Bingo! Max thought. Now if I can just find the dog to go with that leash, then we can be in the clear and Gus won't have to worry his pretty little head off.

"Maile!" Max called, approaching the fence. He saw a smaller maintenance gate had been pried open. He saw hoof-marks coupled with paw-prints leading off into a slightly muddy patch of dense forest. Max grabbed the leash, wrapped it upon his neck like a makeshift scarf and went through the ajar fence, crouching low to avoid getting his dreads tangled in any low-hung brambles. Suddenly, he heard a panting sound coupled with a faint moan. He thought some girl was exercising behind the mound of shrubbery in private, timing her sit-ups accordingly. What he saw when he pulled branches aside to crack open a glance floored him, causing his heart to jolt and his knees to lock up, tail frozen in place. Maile was knelt upon the ground, grasping hold of a dead log. Her head was lowered and her eyes were closed. As she seemed to be worshipping some unknown deity, Maxwell saw what his mind had trouble registering at first. Samson was hunched over Maile's back-side. Her clothing lay in a small bundle at her ankles and her legs were spread wide. Sammy was humping her wildly, smacking against her ass with muffled slaps. Max realized that Maile was getting dog-fucked hard by Samson. She was succumbing to her most illicit taboo desires in the confines of privacy, little did she know that her group's bassist had stumbled silently upon her sexually-charged conduct. Maile was far too absorbed in the feel of her companion's cock inserting into her heated panda-hybrid-girl's vagina to even realize that she had earned a one-person audience. Max considered backing away and leaving as silently as he'd approached, leaving her to her own vices, leaving her in the privacy of her companion, her crazy bestiality-laden lovemaking.

Yet as he thought of leaving, he'd already had his pants pulled down to his ankles and his erect cock held tight in his own grip, stroking aimlessly at the sight. He stayed balanced on his knees and kept a close watchful eye on Maile and Sammy, masturbating himself to this insane Bible-forbidden sight, sliding his other hand-paw up his chest, lightly pinching at his nipple with teasing persistency, feeling tiny ripples of pleasure emanate through his legs, his back, his neck and groin. What a goddam sight to behold. Max felt awkward as hell but didn't really quit his jacking-off immediately. If anything, he actually got a little more intense, rubbing the tip of his shep-coon cock with the ball-knuckle of his thumb-paw, squeezing his knot with his pinky-paw, occasionally reaching down to clench and tug lightly at his testicles, rubbing them soothingly. He felt partially exposed, perched on his knees, pants pulled down, tail trembling nervously, breath hitching every so often from slight orgasmic impulses. He began to think heavily unto himself as he watched his band-mate fucking her pet feral shepherd doggy-style.

But how can this truly be bestiality? I mean, she's part animal too, right? If anything, they're just a couple of mixed-breeds getting shagalicious. Yet she is also part human too, or maybe not? Holy fuck... holy moly mother-loving fuck, this is insane. Keep your cool, shep-coon. You've been through weirder, kinkier shit than this before. Besides, this isn't a big deal, nor is it any huge surprise! I mean, she really loves her German shepherd. No big deal! You've snorted and ingested enough Feral Times to understand the feeling, to comprehend with this very concept, so just ignore all this and return to Gus. That's all you gotta do, just go tell him you couldn't find that silly panda girl and her far sillier shepherd, even though you searched and searched everyw-

Then he felt a cold dampness press against his back-side.

Max reeled with silent dismay and panicked shock, nearly falling through the tiny peephole he'd carved through the tangle of brush to spy on Maile and Sammy's heated zoophilic intercourse. His one good eye snapped backwards behind him, hoping like hell not to see a little kid or a park ranger staring wide-eyed at this half-naked anthro-perv getting his rocks off to some young couple seemingly on vacation.

Instead, he gazed upon a feral German shepherd.

What in the...? Max thought, yet didn't even utter a peep. He just stared into the eyes of the shep, who returned the stare with a solemnly confused gaze of his own. Max quickly realized that this feral dog was actually very handsome, exceedingly good-looking for a pup. Max saw a collar with a small engraved tag shaped like a fat bone, reflecting light from above. As he leaned in to get a closer look, the dog hunched back, ears lowered, tail held between his legs, looking slightly frightened at Max's approach.

"No harm no foul, pup. I ain't gonna hurt you, don't worry. I just wanna see what your collar tag says. C'mere, boy." Max whispered, now feeling his cock dwindling and going flat, losing its erectile firmness. The shepherd sat down on his hindquarters and regarded Maxwell with a slightly questionable look. As Maxwell watched him tilt his head with amazement and wonder, the shep-coon realized this dog could hear Samson pounding Maile from behind where he had been knelt down, perched, watching with kinky desperation. The feral shepherd almost seemed to crack a devious grin, though that could've been a trick of shadows for all Max was concerned. Max crawled as quietly as he could manage towards this mysterious shepherd, who wasn't making any definite moves to crawl away from his approach. As Max advanced upon the feral shep, he slid the collar over his neck and read the gleaming tag between the pup's ears, light reflected upon Max's raccoon-masked face: SCHNAPS

"Hmm... Schnaps, huh? That's actually an awesome name. You're a good boy, Schnaps. Good boy." Max whispered approvingly, petting Schnaps behind his ears. The dog purred like a kitten and cocked his head downward to embrace Max's ear-rubs. When Max stopped, he whined softly, asking for more rubs. Max heard Maile shushing Sammy and then silence swept outward. Max froze in place, hoping like hell that his cover wouldn't be blown. He heard Maile breathing fast and hard, but no more humping sounds. Sammy quit panting briefly. After the tide of silence washed ashore, Max heard Maile speak quietly to Sammy, remaining as silent as a mouse.

"Close call... c'mon, Sammy, fuck me hard, make me cum with your knot inserted deep, you sexy fucker."

Maxwell's brain reeled and spun relentlessly in his shep-coon's cranium. This did him in at last, enough to cause him to resume masturbatory duties. Then he gasped and jerked upward while still knelt down. Max could feel Schnaps licking at his tailhole. The dumb bastard was trying to rim him.

Jesus fuck-me-running Crimony, can this shit get any kinkier?

Schnaps dug his muzzle between Max's drool-drenched butt-cheeks and lapped freely at the shep-coon's nut sac. Max reeled back from the sparks of passion that overcame his mind and he continued to slap off, only instead of watching Maile and Sammy, he kept his head perched beneath his chest, watching Schnaps closely. The shepherd's paws were resting in the nooks of Maxwell's knees, lightly scraping nails against the shep-coon's knee-grown fur-tufts. Schnaps licked deliriously at Max's ass, ball, taint and knot, even sneaking in a cock-lapping every so often. Max's right hand-paw was slimy with Schnaps' saliva.

Max, as careful as a bull in a china shop, turned his body around and rested comfortably on his back, trying not to rustle any leaves nearby. He raised his hind end and brushed his ringed tail against Schnaps' muzzle teasingly. Schnaps began to wag his own tail, then leapt up and hugged himself against Max's torso. With a sudden unexpected shock, Max felt Schnaps prodding at his shep-coon tailhole with his fat erect cock, poking free from its sheath-covered humble abode. Max groaned at the sudden weight applied to his hips and arched his back upward in a near-yoga pose to accommodate Schnaps. The dog wrapped his front paws around Max's hips, hind legs settling against the shep-coon's curved buttocks, then poked himself into Maxwell's gaping tailhole, sliding in quite easily due to Schnaps' pre-lubricated tongue doing its duty. Max gasped and grit his clenched teeth shut, biting down hard at the shepherd's rough penetration.

As he listened to Sammy pounding deeper still into Maile's demonic depths, causing the panda-hybrid to squeal, moaning into a torrential burst of orgasmic rush, Maxwell hugged Schnaps against his belly, feeling the dog's tongue slathering against his chest, licking at his nipples, thickened girth of dog cock pounding relentlessly into his ass, smacking home while the dog's knot teased entry with each indulgent thrust. Maxwell twitched with remarkable fervor, breathing hot and heavy, caressing Schnaps' thighs, propping the dog up against his body. Schnaps humped and humped, panting with a silky smoothness, leathery paw-pads clenched tightly upon Max's waist, tail tickling at the base of his shep-coon ringed tail, wrapped lovingly around Schnaps' hind-legs.

Max let Schnaps fuck him good and hard in the low-drawn brush just outside of the maintenance gate of Dog-Land while Maile let Sammy fuck her raunchy and raw right on the other side of the low-drawn brush, both parties not even aware of just how close in proximity they were exactly.

~

Gus remained perched upon his spot on the bench, watching young children playing with their pet golden retriever. The dog seemed to be aged rather well, grey around the muzzle and beloved by his masters for many long, fun-filled years. Gus wondered how Sammy's previous owner must have been, hearing numerous stories told by Maile of how she'd found him alone and abandoned in a desolate abandoned mechanic shop somewhere nearby Mount St. Helens.

Bradley entered through the front gate and approached Gus, practically reeking of incense and patchouli. Gus stifled a sneeze and welcomed the hybrid-fennec with a handshake. Brad took a seat beside Gus, staring into the trees reflectively. Gus wondered what had caught Brad's attention, then he saw a pair of ravens perched high upon a cedar branch. They squawked and cawed aloud, as if having a yelling argument against each other. On the same branch, Gus caught sight of a beehive, drooped below the two overgrown cousins of crows like a misshapen living chandelier. Bees swarmed along its honey-combed surface, buzzing in circular motions around the hived nest.

"A perfectly fine time for the birds and the bees to present face, eh boss?" Brad said suddenly.

Gus chuckled and cast a scurvy glance towards Brad. "Fine time, indeed. Say, you haven't seen the other dipwads anywhere lately, have you?" Gus asked.

"Who, Max and Maile?" Brad replied.

"Yes."

"No, not really. Just got done meditating, actually."

"Yeah, I can tell. Your smell of incense gave it away just a bit."

"Oh, gosh... that isn't distracting you, is it? I can go change if you'd like-"

"Nah, no need. It don't bother me none. Just..." Gus coughed and spat a fresh wad of tobacco-drenched spittle upon the wood-chips beneath the bench he and Brad sat upon. "...just stay put, kiddo. No need to worry 'bout that." Gus nodded, then reached his arms up in a stretch, groaning aloud with relief. He sounded like a bear disturbed from a nap. A few dogs gazed at Gus, glancing with funny confused expressions, heads cocking and eyes wondering fleetingly. Brad caught this and laughed aloud, patting Gus's back.

"Gotcha, boss. I'm sure wherever the dipwads are, they'll be back around soon enough."

"I suppose."

The ravens cawed on, the bees buzzed on, the children played on, the dogs barked on, the skaters rolled on, the creek flowed on; Brad and Gus sat complacently, watching on.

"The birds and the bees, kiddo." Gus said with a pondering tone.

"Birds and the bees." Brad replied matter-of-factly, nodding his head.

~

"Fuck me, Schnaps... yes... yes... yesssss oh fuck me hard, you kinky bastard..." Max whispered into Schnaps' ear, feeling the dog's knot swell and slip freely in and out of Max's stretched-wide tail-hole. Without even thinking about it, Max allowed his mind to wander freely. Telekinesis swooped over his thoughts and he instantaneously read Schnaps' mind, read his memories like an open book.

Max saw a young cheetah girl picking up a tiny bundle of love, a fluff-ball puppy from a pack of others. The pup she settled on had very similar fur patterns to Schnaps himself. It didn't take but a moment for Max to realize that he literally was seeing Schnaps as a puppy, being claimed by a cute little cheetah girl. Max watched this dog's first car ride to his new home. Max saw that the location had to be Britain, since the steering wheel of the car she rode in with her new puppy was located in the passenger side. The vehicle reached a large roundabout and passed lots of other cars, including a non-stop frequent range of double-decker red buses. Max saw many familiar locations, places he'd read about in a world history textbook he'd once stumbled upon in his old penitentiary library. Max realized that Schnaps had been brought up in the UK. The girl arrived at a gorgeous country home, large and open, free of traffic and inner-city constraints, perched atop a vivid green meadow teeming with poppies and feverfew. Large stalks of reeds grew wild alongside a nearby pond, sunlight reflecting off its rippling surface, graced with frogs perched upon lily pads. __Max saw the cheetah girl exit the vehicle with her new puppy held in a makeshift-pouch, bundled in her hoodie. She carried the puppy into her room and Maxwell's eyes widened heavily. Her room was adorned with Hello Kitty memorabilia. Posters, stuffed plush dolls, mugs, keychains, shirts, bedsheets, carpets... everything was Hello Kitty-themed. Then Maxwell saw her older brother enter her room and his shock escalated heavily. It was Sparky. Sparky was the brother of Schnaps' true owner. _ But Sparky didn't even have a goddam British accent! How in the mother-loving fuck..._

Just then, Max broke his telekinetic connection when a voice emanated from near the open gate.

"Oi! What in fuck's name is goin' on 'ere?"

Oh shit! Oh shit!

Max so desperately didn't want to be where he was now. He leaned over and saw the silver-hued spikes of blue-highlighted hair. He saw the waving skinny feline tail. He saw a skateboard propped up against where Sammy's red leash once hung. Sparky had quite literally caught Maxwell with his pants down. Sparky caught his sister's dog balls-deep in the bassist of the band whose drummer he had a definite crush on. Sparky suddenly disrobed. Max stared in dead silence as Sparky stripped right down to his very barest. He dropped his Ramones shirt to the ground, then his super-tight Levis, then his plaid boxers. Sparky revealed a barbed cock, drippy with pre-cum. He gazed lovingly at Maxwell, then winked and licked his lips, reaching down and clenching his rock-hard penis. Maxwell saw all this and smiled dreamily at Sparky.

Then the bushes rustled behind Max, causing his attention to break free from Sparky's sexually-charged gaze.

Maile stood naked over Max and Schnaps, naked, dripping Sammy's dog-cum from her swollen vagina. Sammy stood watch over everyone, nuzzling against Maile's leg. Her expression was blank, thoughtful, undecided. Sparky saw Maile's feminine beauty and stared intently. They exchanged a prolonged bout of absurdly awkward silence.

Holy fuck, this shit totally just got real.

~

"Yeah, I'm not sure where those bastards went off to. Honestly, last time I saw Maxwell, I think he went to hang out at that skate park up the hill a little ways."

"Sure, I know. Watched him go up there. Then he came back down here and um..." Gus recalled what Max had done for him when his emotions fluctuated just a bit, having talked about how dysfunctional and drug-obsessed his old band he managed years ago had been. "Well, haven't seen him since. I told him Maile been missing for a good long while, probably went with Sammy to go on some kinda nature walk or something. Not sure. Anyways, been sitting here ever since. You feeling any closer to Nirvana yet, amigo?"

"No, Gus. That's Buddhism. I practice Taoism. You mean Zen. Am I any closer to Zen."

"Oh! Right. My bad. No offense taken, I hope?"

"None whatsoever. They're very easy to get mixed up, I know." Bradley smiled at Gus' effort. "And yes, I'm closer every day. Thanks for asking." Brad saw Gus' uninterested expression and decided to blow the topic off gradually.

"So you really haven't seen either of 'em, then?" Gus asked.

Brad simply shook his head, shrugged and raised his hand-paws in an HELL-IF-I-KNOW gesture.

Gus sighed. "Well, shit. Now what?"

~

"God Almighty, your tongue feels sensational, shep-coon! Ah fuck! Yes!" Sparky said.

Maxwell was now on his hand-paws and knees. Schnaps was feverishly ramming his knot in and out of Max's tail-hole from behind as Max sucked Sparky off, knelt down beside Max's head. Max fingered Sparky's cheetah tail-hole and deep-throated his barbed cock, gagging freely on his dick, loving the salty taste and the sweet little moans he made with each bob of his shep-coon muzzle against the cheetah's dick. Max licked at the tip and then turned his head toward the opposite direction away from Sparky's erection to give Maile a kiss on her lips, mixing saliva and cheetah cum together. Maile was also next to Maxwell on her hand-paws and knees, legs spread wide, welcoming Samson's throbbing knot once more with strained persistence. The group moaned aloud and breathed heavily, causing their general area to dampen and grow very heated. Max imagined what it would be like gathered inside a glass dome, obstructed from any outside interference by a large sheen of tinted breath, like what one would see by breathing upon a cold car window on a chilly winter day.

"You kiss nice, Max." Maile said, eyes jittering from Sammy's knot penetrating her repeatedly. "I never even knew you were - Uh damn - there before... how were you able to be so... silent? Mmmn hah yes!"

"You get to learn a few stealthy tricks when...ah, fuck... assassinating scumbags for a living." Max said, cum dribbling from his mouth, leaking in tiny droplets from his lips.

"Woah, mate! You kill for a living? Fuckin' brutal!" Sparky said with wide-eyed amazement as he jerked himself off watching the two hybrids kiss and snowball with his own cheetah-nectar.

"Say, Sparkster... tell Maile how you feel about her, won't you?" Max said, gazing upon Sparky with hungry eyes, licking at his navel, staring up into his cheetah face.

"What's he talkin' about?" Maile asked, looking from Max to Sparky.

Suddenly Sparky walked up to Maile and slid his erect cock into Maile's mouth, feeling no hesitation. Maile moaned, gagged and then began to suck the cheetah off relentlessly. Sparky reached up and locked his hand-paws behind his head, legs spread, embracing the deviant prowess of her cock-sucking abilities. Maxwell opened his maw wide and, moving Sparky's tail free with one hand paw while using the other to hoist Schnaps up closer to his ass, buried his tongue deep into Sparky's anal passage. He licked around the cheetah's ringlets and prodded the tip of his shep-coon tongue against Sparky's spongy prostate. Sparky clenched down upon both Maile and Max's hair with both hand-paws and groaned aloud, feeling his knees buckle and tremble, weak and gelatinous. Maxwell felt Schnaps ramming his girth home into the shep-coon's throbbing asshole, shepherd testicles slapping against his own, tongue lapping over his back. Max moaned aloud, breathing through his nose, when he endured an orgasm. He squirted globs of jizz upon his thigh, feeling Schnaps ejaculating deep within his own insides. Max felt Schnaps' knot grow firm and lock up, tied tight and buried deep. Sparky's ejaculation squeezed Max's tongue, cutting off circulation briefly, nearly gagging Maile as she reeled her head back and drank as much of the cheetah's sperm as she could manage, spraying her muzzle and face, ropes of milky warm pearlescent jizz dripping down her chin and neck in tiny streams. Sammy plowed Maile with predatory intensity and came hard up her ass, causing her to reach down and finger herself off, squirting seminal fluids like a busted water main, as she felt her pet shepherd's knot swell and lock up inside her stretched-wide tail-hole, drowning in the scent of Sparky's musky semen, seeing Schnaps curl his foot-paws into a tiny ball upon finally shooting off inside her bassist friend's sexy thoroughly-fucked shep-coon ass.

The group took deep breaths all around and the musicians waited for the dogs to break their ties, while Sparky looked at Max with a perplexed mix of resentment and fright.

"Dude, what?" Max asked finally.

"If only my sister could see this..." Sparky said.

"Was that the girl who texted you earlier?" Max asked.

"Could be." Sparky replied.

Maile looked at Sparky then at Schnaps. Her face almost seemed to turn pale.

They looked at each other, then Maxwell lost his composure and burst into hysterical laughing. He pounded his hand-paw against the ground and shook his head. Sparky held his expression as long as possible, then looked at Maile. She too had attempted to hold a certain solemnity about her poise, then realize she simply couldn't. Her face squinted and she too burst into a deep, rolling bout of laughter. Sparky cackled aloud like a demented hyena on crack. The three anthros laughed their asses off at what Sparky's poor Hello Kitty-obsessed little sister would say at this insanely absurd yet highly sexually-charged scene. Samson and Schnaps, meanwhile, stared at each other, confused as all hell at what exactly was so goddam funny to these moronic fuck-toys.

~

"Okay, that does it. These shit-bags have pissed me off." Gus said with a stern impatience beneath his tone. He looked at his wristwatch and realized that he'd been perched upon the goddam bench for nearly a good three-hour stretch.

"Oh, Gus, relax. I'm sure they're just so pre-occupied with themselves, they've all but forgotten to check back in. Everything will be fine, man. Don't worry." Brad said with calm serenity.

"Bullshit. They're off raising hell, probably smoking a doobie and sucking each other off or something. Goddam punk bastard kids." Gus grumbled.

"Gus! C'mon, just repeat after me: Ala-hatusa-monai-sae, ala-hatusa-monai-sae, ala-hatu-"

"I'll ala-hatusa your goddam ass in a minute if you don't shut your fucking hole, buddy." Gus said.

Bradley fell silent, then scoffed. "Alright, man. It's cool though, you shouldn't be so worried about them. They're way more resilient than you often give them credit for, you know? I think you should just chill out, Gus. I imagine they wound up having-"

"A goddam orgy! A big fat sweaty cum-drenched goddam orgy, that's what! I guarantee you that we'll go in the forest over 'yonder and find those tools engaging in serious hardcore missionary action! I sent that bastard Maxwell to find Maile but now I'm gonna have to go find-"

"Maxwell! Maile! There you guys are!" Brad called out loud, smiling with his hand raised in a greeting wave. Gus looked with profound haste towards where Brad's gamboge-hued eyes were focused. Max strolled along casually, holding Maile's hand, a lit cigarette perched in one corner of his shep-coon lips. Maile walked Sammy on his leash, both hybrids now fully dressed and cleaned up. Sparky walked Schnaps on a studded leash of his own. Once again, the young cheetah rebel donned his finest punk-rocker attire. They emerged from a far corner of the park's gated perimeter, approaching like a brute police force reporting for duty. The maintenance door's latch was closed and secured.

"WHERE IN GOD'S NAME WERE YOU JACKASSES?! YOU HAD ME SO WORRIED I NEARLY DIED OF A DAMN HEART ATTACK ON THAT STUPID BENCH!!"

Max and Maile looked at each other, then at Gus. They cracked a suave grin and each winked simultaneously. They both walked up to Gus casually and patted him on his husky shoulders.

"Chill out, old-timer. We were exploring the scenery." Max said.

"Yeah, nothing to it, Mr. Stevenson." Maile said.

"Maile?!" Gus snapped aloud. Maile flinched back a spell. Sparky gave a startled reaction, ready to lunge upon the old fat man if he tried to attack the panda-hybrid girl, not like he'd make much of a difference anyways. Instead, Gus leaned in and bear-hugged Maile, kissing her cheek. "Please hun, call me Gus. You make me feel so old calling me by my last name all the damn time. Comprende?" Gus said to her with a humble smile, free of anger.

"Sure thing... Gus." Maile cast a brilliantly bright and enthusiastic smile.

"Alright, Enim-Noinu! Let's loooad UP!" Gus hollered, literally skipping with rekindled optimism back to the party-van, twirling his finger in the air with circular motions. Maile hugged Sparky, then whispered into his ear. "Come see us anytime you'd like, Sparky. You'll be granted immediate VIP access, guaranteed. Give your sister a hug from me too, would you?"

"She's not into the grunge rock as much as I am, but I'll be sure to share the love. Thank you kindly, Maile." Sparky said, heart aflutter with gratitude.

Maile leaned in closer to Sparky and bit his ear erotically. "By the way, I can read minds too. If you wanted to ask me out on a date, you could've just asked me, instead of beating off to me all those times. You are especially attractive and your sister's pet shepherd is quite gorgeous. Take it easy, yes?"

Sparky nodded, stuttering at a loss of words. Maile winked and smiled, then headed towards the van with Sammy held tight, proceeding through the park's gate, tail swaying gracefully. Maxwell handed Sparky his skateboard. Sparky nodded with thanks and looked into Max's single good eye. The cheetah almost appeared to be weepy-eyed. Maxwell hugged Sparky tight and whispered into his ear, much like Maile had just done beforehand. "Kid, you fucking rock. This'll be our little secret, agreed?" Sparky nodded with no apprehension present whatsoever.

"Of course. Honestly I thought you were hot as fuck from the moment I first saw you up there, on the fence of that skate park. Come back to hang out anytime you wish, okay?" Sparky insisted.

"You bet your bottom goddam dollar I most certainly will, kiddo." Max said. He rubbed Sparky's ears and kissed his forehead, then leaned down to give Schnaps a smooch on his muzzle. The dog lapped at Max's cheek and raised his paws up onto Max's knees, as if to embrace him in a canine hug. Max admired the pooch quite a bit and hugged him in a fond embrace, hearing Schnaps' heartbeat echoing against his own. Max stood upright after a brief moment, regarded the cheetah-boy and his sister's dog, then headed toward the exit. Before Max stepped through the gate, he stopped and captured one more lok back at Sparky and Schnaps, beside each other, gazing upon one crazy-fine hybrid or two. Max raised his hand-paw and formed devil-horns with his pinky and index finger-paws raised up, outstretched.

"Rock hard, live harder!" Max hollered aloud. A few stragglers looked at Max funny then quickly resumed their play-time with their trusted canine companions. Sparky returned the devil-horn salute and repeated Max's trademark saying aloud with a Savannah-deepened growl. Maxwell smiled wide and nodded agreeably. He hopped the stupid fence and trotted back to the van, getting in and sliding the door shut. Gus told his anthro pseudo-family to buckle up for the dipshit drivers out there and they took off. Max and Maile exchanged a glance from rear seat to passenger seat.

"So, Maxwell! The dog park wasn't all that bad, was it?" Gus insisted.

"Gus?" Max said. He leaned forward and rubbed his touring manager's bald head casually. "No, it really wasn't. In fact, I'd love to come back here more often." Max replied. Gus nodded with a beaming smile and winked into his rear-view mirror at Max.

"Atta'boy! See? I told you it wouldn't be as bad as you thought, kiddo." Gus said. He dropped the van into reverse and backed out from the pine tree-protected parking space. The wind rustled Bradley's long Afghan-hounded fur like crazy.

Our little secret, shep-coon.

Indeed... I honestly had no clue you could be so damn kinky, Mai-mai.

I'm the kinky one? Fuck, shep-coon... you startled me just as much, you know that?

I'm sure I did. Just remember -

Our little secret, yes.

"Hey, you guys okay?" Bradley asked. He must've sensed a strangeness between Maxwell and Maile. They both looked at their intrepid guitarist, their visionary Taoist, their fennec-hybrid friend, and simply burst into fresh laughter. Gus raised his eyebrows and looked at Bradley from the rear-view mirror. Brad shrugged with his HELL-IF-I-KNOW gesture once more and they drove back to Gus' home together, Sammy perched between the hybrid anthro males, tail wagging gleefully, perfectly content with the day's overall proceedings and outcomes.

END