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I roughly pushed my latest sexual conquest against the wall of our prison cell. His torn clothes remained in a pile of fabric near the base of our bunk bed. My flaccid Doberman cock swung against my mocha-furred crotch and obsidian-furred inner thighs. Cum dripped from his used and abused tailhole down his shivering vulpine legs as I leered down at him. “Still trying to act tough, eh, just because it’s my last night?” I smugly asked. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that. We both know you’ll be missing my dick.” My eyes flickered between his intimidated face and the flaccid cock hardening again between those trembling legs. “Eheheh, well look at that! You already are, you little cockfag.” “N-No! It’s n-not that, Daddy…” He whimpered in satisfied if uncomfortable submission. “W-Will I ever see you aga—” I shoved my entire tongue down his gaping maw, tasted my spunk from earlier, and pulled out to give a slobbering, dominant smirk. “Remember, cutie,” I growled, the dark grin along my chiseled jaw lecherous. Leaning down, I bit into his shoulder and felt the fox’s pained cries reverberate through my teeth. Hard, but not enough to draw blood. He panted uncontrollably without trying to escape my grasp. Pulling away to once more gaze at the blushing, flushed fox, I snarled to him, “My sentence might be over later today, but whether you’re still stuck in this shithole for another year or two, you’re still my bitch. You hear that, little fox? Be sure to tell the others: You. Are. My. Bitch!” For a few more seconds, my golden eyes remain locked with the wide, teary blue orbs of the red fox’s. Our tongues remained panting outward. Our noses barely touched. To an outsider or horny watcher, it looked as if we were about to kiss. “And cut! Cut!” The director blared a small whistle, and a flurry of activity occurred all around the small studio. “That’s beautiful, you two! Great expressions, Roscoe!” The camera pulled away from me and my younger co-star, who started to laugh while trying to stretch his legs. His sudden giggling became infectious. Not only did I start to laugh, but so did some members of the stage crew who weren’t distracted by their jobs. “Why’re we laughing, Sammy?” I asked, happy to relax my throat and no longer talk with that gruff and dangerous tone. The same one that attracted so many viewers over the years. “Did I say something weird on that take? Was it my voice, or—” “No, no, silly!” The college-aged red fox waved a black paw and casually walked over to grab a fresh towel from one of the less bashful crew members, “I was worried if I could keep myself together. Look horny yet scared, when I was nothing but horny…” The two of us leaned our shoulders against the plaster wall that was supposed to look like hard and cold concrete. The porno set was abuzz with movement as we waited for what the director wanted us to do next. “Ahh, I see what you mean, little buddy.” Chuckling, I happily accepted another warm towel from the same canine crew member and began rubbing the crusty fluids off my crotch. “I wasn’t too rough there when I marked your shoulder, was I?” “No, no, it wasn’t too bad,” the peppy red fox reassured me. “If it was, I would’ve said the safe word right away.” The younger canine winked at me, shaking his bare tush and swishing his cum-stained tail seductively. “Mmm, not that I wouldn’t mind you treating me a little more roughly…” “Me neither,” I said, winking back. “You sure you’re not staying longer?” I shook my head. “Sorry, but I already sent out the announcement a couple days ago, and my decision was long before. Soon as we’re done today, I’m officially retired.” Or at least, longtime gay porn star Roscoe Baddawg (also known as Roscoe the Bad Doggo) would retire, disappearing from an active online presence on YiffTube, YiffHub, XXXVideos, and old porn films. In his place, William Roscoe DeSoto-Taurean still had the rest of his adult life ahead of him: a new job, a loving, steady boyfriend, and the road to make money after turning that scary age most rookie porn stars inevitably reached, even if not as much as I currently made. The cameraman and director were busy consulting with his associates and two of the producers, all of whom either nodded in my direction or gave a thumbs-up if we made eye contact. At least one of them, an older rhinoceros in a tracksuit, was covering his crotch with a tablet. I could even spot him blushing as they reviewed the footage. Another crew member, this one a bashful cheetah who refused to look at me in the eye, handed us bottles of water. I murmured my thanks without pushing it. If there was anything that years of experience in my field taught me, it was to always treat grips well. Even if they couldn’t help but pop a boner at you. Sammy Bottom finished chugging his bottle. “You don’t look old enough to retire,” he commented. “Not that there’s really a retirement age for us. What’re you? Thirty-eight?” “Thirty-nine,” I replied after taking a swig from my own plastic water bottle. “I’ll be reaching the big four-oh in several months.” “Why retire though?” Sammy asked, eyebrow raised in speculation. “I mean, you’re not exactly my age, but you’re still a big catch. Besides, there is a huge market out there for DILFs. Plenty of studios hiring them too.” I took another swig, smiling at the refreshing liquid. “Oh, that’s true! But I’m doing it more for my own sake. As fun as this all is, I’m just tired of the porn industry. Tired of my typecasting as a dominant punk, tired of the endless hours of random sex,” I lowered my voice to murmur, “and the terrible scripts too.” He snickered and whispered back, “Can’t blame you…” “But yeah.” I shrugged. “Retiring from porn though doesn’t mean I’m done working.” “Oh?” Sammy perked an ear. “What kind of job you going for?” “Fitness instructor,” I said. He blinked hard. “Roscoe the Bad Doggo as a fitness coach? That’s awesome!” the red fox whistled excitedly. “Not only do you get to keep your awesome bod, but you’ll help others keep fit too! How’d you get it?” I grinned. “My bod or the job?” “I’d ask both,” he said with a shrug, “but frankly, I’m more curious about the job.” “My other half’s planning on opening a new gym in Crossroads City, so we’re gonna be moving out there.” His ears perked high. “You’re leaving New York State for Utah?” I shrugged. “It’s cheaper for us. And he’s been wanting to open a bigger location out west anyway.” “You think someone might recognize you?” He gave me a little smirk. “We’re…trying not to worry too much, but it’s probably inevitable.” I worried if Sammy noticed how forced my chuckle was, but he didn’t comment. I cleared my throat. “In fact, we got a pool going on how long it’ll take for a customer to recognize me from their porno stashes.” “I say a month,” Sammy commented. “So, you are keeping it all on the down-low?” A sigh left my lips. “Sure am. The gym’s not one of those big-name franchises, but it won’t be hard to find the location. I’m only telling close friends and a few colleagues which one it’ll be. The last thing I need is the location somehow leaking.” “You that paranoid?” he asked. “Here’s some advice from an ‘old-timer’, kiddo: most of your fans won’t be stalker-y. In fact, plenty of them will just be awed that they’re seeing somebody they’ve fapped to online and might be bashful while politely asking for an autograph. But then, you’ll have a few bad apples who will awkwardly try to proposition you for sex like you’re a hooker. They’ll insist they can pay with cash or dinner.” I snorted. “And for God’s sake, never let them follow you to your car. Otherwise, at worst, you’ll just need to deal with creepy comments on social media.” “Gotcha, gotcha.” Sammy nodded in understanding. “I know what you’re saying! I’ve only been doing this since last year, but I’m already getting creepy perverts sending me emails and trying to find my personal address. Like, this one guy—” “Roscoe? Sammy?” The director, a lion my age named Georgie, called us over to the main camera. The two of us strolled over, nobody blinking at us being completely naked. “Joe’s not satisfied with the final shot. He wants us to get a better close-up of your lips nearly kissing, then have you—Roscoe—suddenly pull away. Then, we’re gonna integrate it with you walking out of your cell naked while carrying your prison clothes as the final shot.” “Alright, that’s fair,” I said, nodding as I glanced at our already cleaned crotches. “Do we need a fluffer?” “No, the new shot isn’t gonna show either of you below the belt,” Georgie said, shaking his scaly head. “Just get back into position you two. Roscoe, start off from ‘You hear that, you little fox faggot’. Everyone, get back to your stations!” Within seconds, everyone returned to where they had been minutes earlier. I was leaning against the wall with a recently bred red fox cowering before me, in a prison cell where my fictional character was done having one final good fuck before being released. Clearly, the script writers were inspired. “Sound is good. Camera rolling. Everyone quiet on set. Aaaand, action!” My face darkened into dominant possession, teeth bared into a grin I imagined as wide as a crescent moon along my black-furred muzzle. “You hear that, little fox?” I asked, baring my fangs as my expression exuded control. “Be sure to tell the others: You. Are. My. Bitch!” I let out a snarl. It evolved into a growl. Sammy popped an instant hard-on between his legs. Then, I pulled away from camera-view, relaxing as the final few seconds of footage focused on the fox looking scared…and with an erection that continued to twitch. No way for that to be an act, I noted with amusement. “Cut! Gorgeous, Roscoe!” Georgie laughed beside the stoic camera operator. “Well done!” Sammy scratched the back of his hot ears as they folded down, his blush (and rock-hard dick) visible to all. “A-Are you sure you can’t retire a little later, Roscoe?” he asked that question like a school boy with a crush. “Like I said, I’m not backing out of my decision.” Laughing, I walked over and patted his bare shoulder, smiling down at the newcomer. “But if you’re up for it, I’d be more than happy to exchange numbers. If you ever stop by my neck of the woods over in Crossroads City, we can go out for lunch. My boyfriend knows a killer cheesesteak sandwich shop that’s gonna make you question fitness.” The fox’s eyes brightened, and he leaned up to peck my smiling cheek as we shook paws. “Deal!” *** Everyone wished me well, and so did Georgie and the producers once they confirmed I wouldn’t be needed for post-production. Once I dried my fur off and had an extravagant shower in the studio’s locker room, I waved Sammy good-bye and left for my car in the parking lot. I also sent a few texts to David to inform him I’d be home soon. David: Great! Still stuck dealing w/ shit at the gym. Back in 1 hr Me: Ok I’ll start cooking. See u soon. Love you babe David: Awww, you’re too sweet. Love u 2 I pocketed my phone before entering my car, started it up, and then paused. I glanced through the windshield towards the nondescript building that held so many memories. My ears partially folded as I let out a wistful exhale. No more long-ass hours keeping erect, no more dealing with anal directors convinced they’re working for Hollywood, and no more feeling numb after an intense week of shooting, but I likely wasn’t to see Sammy, Georgie, or the bashful interns ever again. Not on any porno set, anyway. I would be a ghost, talked about in passing as if I existed once upon a time. Would they inevitably miss me? Would I inevitably miss them? Finally, I pulled out from my spot and exited the parking lot a minute or two later. The short drive from the studio to the apartment didn’t take long, and the final few minutes spent navigating the road was around when the melancholy of retirement started to set in. I pictured the future and what could go wrong with my decision. However, I tried ignoring the possibilities of tomorrow and instead thought about what I’d look forward to the most. Most of it revolved around my boyfriend of several years. My smile cracked at picturing David in his tacky pink bathrobe, the one I’d given him as a joke Christmas present, and the same one he wore with pride. Mostly, to annoy me. The smile waned though as I realized just how drained my entire body felt, stiffly exiting the car and closing the driver side door behind me. The apartment building’s garage was quiet as I went through the lobby and up the main elevator to the third floor. I wouldn’t miss this apartment, even if it was larger than the one we were moving into. The new place would be cozier, more rustic, and closer in distance to David’s loving family. Positive changes, on balance. After exiting the elevator and walking down the hallway, I placed the apartment key inside the lock, turned it, and opened it to a foyer draped in darkness. I flicked on the light switch at the end of the short foyer, facing the kitchen. Suddenly— “SURPRISE!” I stood dumbfounded and overjoyed as friends, loved ones, and former colleagues stood beneath a banner that read ‘Happy Retirement, Will!’. They clapped. They whooped and hollered. I covered my muzzle in shock, then grinned wider than ever before. My tail wagged fiercely as I stepped forward to hug David, the coffee-furred pinscher dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, who handed me a can of beer. “We got you there, Will!” he cackled, pecking me on the lips. “Thank you so much, sweetie,” I laughed, then eyed the beer. “No lite?” “Nope!” He stuck out his tongue. “Not tonight. We can indulge just for this special occasion! My boyfriend’s retired, baby!” He suddenly pulled me into a kiss, and I gleefully returned, only to cut it short due to the laughter and clapping surrounding us. Chuckling, I pulled our lips away. “Cheers?” I asked. “Cheers,” David agreed as he and I opened our beers. “Happy retirement, babe!” The kitchen vibrated as everyone cheered, “Happy retirement!” My smile strained as I mentally fought down the melancholy hearing the word ‘retirement’ over and over suddenly evoked in me, replacing it with joy at being surprised, and getting to celebrate with people I knew. “Happy retirement to me!” I said as cheerfully as I could muster. Somebody played hip hop at medium volume on the sound system. Plenty of guests already had alcoholic drinks in paw, but a few—likely the designated drivers—were simply sipping soda pop. Behind the gathering of mammals slowly trickling either out of the crowded kitchen or towards me, I spotted a charcuterie board stacked with chips, dip, and cracker snacks, and a large punch bowl on the kitchen’s granite island. I tried to ride the high. I hugged and shook paws with old colleagues, local friends, a couple of our soon-to-be-former neighbors, my former agent, and a couple other familiar muzzles. One of the guests, a slightly younger pinscher in a long-sleeve shirt and casual jeans, stepped over to us. “Hey, Will!” she beamed. “Congratulations on retiring!” “Sarah!” I hugged her back. “You came all this way to celebrate me?” “I was here for a shareholders conference downtown,” she shrugged, then nudged her older brother, “and this big dumb lug here somehow convinced me to stay for an extra week.” “Three extra days, Sarah,” he corrected her. “And it was too perfect for timing. It’s like God Himself wanted my family here for this special occasion!” She snorted. “I doubt God looks too kindly on what Will here does for a living.” “Hey now, you mean ‘did’ for a living,” I reminded her. “And I think the big man upstairs will be happy I no longer do it, right?” David pointed his thumb at me. “That’s very true, sis.” She snorted again. “Whatever. Still, congrats on retiring, Will. It’ll be nice to have you and Davy here out west. Mom and Dad miss you both, y’know. Can’t wait to start having you over for weekly dinners.” “So they keep saying,” David sighed. “So, how’s the husband and kids?” “Jack and Jane are still driving their dad nuts,” she giggled. “I just hope I won’t be returning to a war zone tomorrow morning.” “Probably will,” I commented. She smirked. “Yeah, probably.” “Hey Roscoe?” called a voice from behind me. I turned to see a certain portly and older weasel in a dress shirt and no tie. “Have this gift card, as a thanks.” “To the Sheep’s Clothing Bar & Grill?” I asked, then shook his paw while pocketing the plastic card. I felt my fur bristle at being called ‘Roscoe’ but didn’t let my annoyance slip. “Thank you, Barry. You shouldn’t have!” “Hey, it’s the least I can do,” he insisted. “You really helped me out by picking me as your agent. Without you, I’d be still working with B-movie actors.” Sarah overheard the conversation. “Porn stars have agents?” she asked. “Not like they used to in this day and age, but yeah,” Barry said with an annoyed shrug. “Nowadays, all you need is a YiffTube account and a crappy phone to call yourself an adult actor. There’s no longer any class.” He sighed heavily, muttering, “Christ, I miss the nineties...” “As much as you’re gonna miss me?” I asked a little too innocently. “Don’t get your hopes off, Roscoe,” he scoffed and snickered at once, only to soften his frown, “Though yeah, I am gonna miss working with you.” I fought down my desire to frown at the mention of my stage name again. “Aww,” came my reply, “thank you, Barry.” “Don’t mention it,” he said. “So, are you still looking for new talent to replace him, Barry?” David asked the weasel. “Are they as good as my hun here?” “Not anymore I ain’t,” he began to boast. “I got started early with asking around, and I’ve already got several new big names lined up. One’s a fox who started working for Naughty Twinks International and another’s this beautiful lioness who’s gotten interested in signing a contract with MILFworks…” “Hey, I’m still out there on the web,” I said. “And on DVD. And in future deepfakes, no doubt.” David snickered next to me, whispering something to his sister. “That reminds me: Barry, you’re not gonna be selling bootleg copies of my flicks, are you?” He tried looking nonchalant as he sipped a cup of punch. “I have no comment, kid,” he joked. “Hey, it’s good,” I snickered with the weasel and my boyfriend. “As long as it isn’t ‘Mailman Mutt and Sluts 3’, we’re all good!” “Oh, never that one!” David shuddered beside me. “Three is the worst!” I said. “Four and Five were certainly better though!” Barry groaned as well. “Agreed.” The rest of the party switched between nostalgic reminiscing and congratulations on my retirement, as well as catching up with guests. I wasn’t always present, sometimes dwelling on my thoughts and thinking about the future, but I managed to keep up with some conversations. “Did you hear that Keith Irons is expanding his Twinks International brand?” “Utah’s certainly not New York, but at least you’ve got a closer flight to the West Coast, and there’s the Salt Lake too. I wish you two luck!” “You have got to tell me where you buy the crackers.” “Do you think you’re gonna encounter that many Mormons?” “We’re really going to miss you, dude.” One or two managed to convince me to reenact a line that became an Internet meme, much to everyone’s delight. Otherwise, feeling tired from the long day and longer evening, I took a few more sips of my regular beer whilst everyone trickled between their respective groups in the party. Gradually things began to wind down, guests leaving one by one until it was just Sarah, David, and me. “If you share that pic with Mom or Dad,” David warned her, “I swear to God, Sarah, I will—” “Relax, I won’t share it,” she feigned a promise. “Yeah, and I won’t babysit for your rugrats if you do,” he warned, playfully. “Okay, okay,” she sighed, and pulled him and then me into hugs. “You two have a good night. Thanks for inviting me.” “Thank you for getting blackmail material on my boy toy here,” I teased, sniggering as David lightly smacked my arm. “Seriously though, thank you for coming, Sarah.” She lightly waved. “Hope you boys have a good night.” “You too, sis,” David said. “Tell your boys their uncles can’t wait to see them again.” “Will do!” Before she could leave, though, I called out, “Hey, Sarah? Thanks for coming. It really means a lot.” She turned to flash me a warm grin. “Wouldn’t have missed it, Will.” Then she stepped out, closing the door behind her. We went back to the kitchen and the connected living room, sighing together at the forgotten empty cups, plates of food left abandoned, plus the remaining charcuterie and uneaten party snacks. “Hope you like fruit, berries, and tiny meat,” I informed the pinscher, “because that’s all we’re gonna eat until it’s all gone.” “At least they ate all the chips and crackers,” he brought up as we got to work cleaning up the empty apartment. “That salty shit has ruined too many diets, in my humblest opinion…” “Why’d you buy it then?” I queried. “You can’t have a party without chips, Will,” he argued. “Just like you can’t have a party with at least one alcoholic drink.” I belched. “Ugh, don’t remind me…” We smirked while picking up the last of the plates, then proceeded to begin placing the leftover appetizers in containers. “By the way, thank you for throwing this surprise party, David. Not that I wouldn’t have minded a quiet dinner, but this was still incredibly sweet and…” I sighed a little more melancholically than usual. David caught my mood, perked his ear and arched a curious eyebrow. The way his cocoa eyes gazed at me with concern reminded me how predictable and easily read my emotions could be around him. “What’s on your mind, sweetie?” he asked. “You having second thoughts all of a sudden?” My ears fell slightly. I relaxed after thinking over an appropriate response. “No, not really. I’m glad I’m walking away after all these years, but…well…it’s got me wondering again,” I stalled. “What if I end up regretting this sudden change later down the line? What if we need extra money?” “You might, you might not,” David reassured me. “And we’ve got my parents. They love you, and if we’re ever in need of a sudden loan, they’ll be more than eager to help.” A sigh escaped my tense lips. “I guess…” “This isn’t about money or regret though, is it?” he asked, to which I slowly nodded. “It’s about how much things are going to change?” “You can say that,” I said. “Did you notice throughout the party that most of my old friends and colleagues kept calling me Roscoe? Rarely ‘Will’ or ‘William’.” “That’s how they’ve known you for years, isn’t it?” David asked, still a bit confused. “It’s my persona they’ve known for years,” I reiterated. “I dunno. Maybe I’m just overthinking it. For half my life, I’ve been paid to fuck, suck, and act like this person I’m not. Everyone knows me as Roscoe Baddawg. The Bad Doggo. Years and years, directors and producers had me act like this shady, bad-boy criminal who takes what he wants and does what he wants. Fans online and offline think I’m this total asshole dom who doesn’t read, is totally single by choice, has massive drug-fueled orgies and random hookups on a nightly basis—” “Unless you’re paid to act like you do,” David interrupted. I pointed at him. “Yes, unless I’m paid to act like I do,” came my quick reply. “Anyway, I’m just a little worried that the bad-boy persona I’m typecasted as will still haunt me, even after I start working at our gym. Customers will eventually figure out who I am.” “That’ll be a long while, Will.” “It’s Utah, David,” I argued. “It’s a state full of Mormons, and the Mormon men all secretly watch gay porn.” “You know that’s just a stereotype.” My boyfriend rolled his eyes, then settled them on me as I placed the last container in the refrigerator and he placed the dirty plates in the dishwasher. “William Roscoe Tauren, I love you. But you can be so fatalistic sometimes. Roscoe isn’t the other dobie I fell in love with. You are. And let’s say that customers do recognize you sooner than later. Even if they do, they won’t be meeting ‘the Bad Doggo’. It’s gonna be you, the real and genuine you.” “You mean it?” I asked. He nodded. “Of course, I do.” David snaked his arms around my torso, pulling my muscular chest to his. His fangs gleamed with a smile as I began to wiggle my nub tail and bashfully smile. Unlike Roscoe Baddawg, Will wasn’t the true dominant partner in the relationship. That sexual honor belonged to the bodybuilder whose muscles rippled beneath the large t-shirt. Much more so than mine did, honed from years of constant sexual activity, dieting, and upper-body training whilst my lover focused as much on his legs too. Speaking of which, I wrapped my right fingers around his hips, grinning as I tapped my nose onto his. David chuckled. “Love you, dummy,” he murmured. “Babe.” I attempted to feign offense but failed. The smile curving across my muzzle gave it away. “I love you too, hun.” His kiss still tasted like our first. Fortunately, practice made perfect, so our lips and tongue no longer thrashed together. They twirled and glided like two dancers in a grand ballroom, hearing music that came from the humming and needy whimpers at the backs of our throats. Our saliva became one. Our breathing grew hitched and passionate. My worries drifted downriver. I didn’t know the future. No one did. Yet I felt confident ours would be quite alright. I gasped out a moan when his five caramel digits cupped my balls through my pants. They were so sensitive, especially today. David’s tongue pulled out to taste my jawline. His hot and throbbing crotch then ground itself against my trembling leg. I let out a noise that made the dominant pinscher produce a mischievous laugh. A sudden twinge of discomfort made my body go rigid. On any normal night, I’d be into it. On any normal night, I’d be eager to make love to my pinscher after a grueling day at different studio sets, but instead, my drained cock could barely throb back to stiffness. “Mmm,” I whispered against his snout. “Not tonight, please?” “You feeling good?” David asked, pausing his fondling. “My dick’s still sore from this morning,” I bluntly informed him. “You sure I can’t kiss it better?” he teased, tongue playfully poking from between his white fangs. “Over and over and over—” “Actually, I wanted to ask you,” I requested, smiling at the handsome canine that held me. “Can we…Can we just cuddle in bed tonight? I love what we do, and I do wanna try out that dildo that Michael gave us,”—David flashed an embarrassed grin at my mentioning one of the many lewd gifts I’d been given earlier—“but I’m tired of just fucking. It’s one of the big reasons I wanted to retire, before sex became as meaningless as breathing and just another chore. And I never want what we do to feel like a chore, sweetie. So, tonight, can you just…hold me? Cuddle me? Like I’m the most important thing in the world?” I fondly licked his chin. David let my words sink in. He immediately grew an understanding smile, withdrew his paw from my crotch, then cupped my cheek as he pecked me on the lips. “Of course, Will,” he answered. Much to my initial surprise, the jacked pinscher knelt slightly and plucked me up bridal-style, though with some effort. He staggered and his stance went steady, gritting his teeth. My legs wildly dangled off the floor. “Dave, what the fuck?!” I yelped. “What?” he strained, his fangs a sharp smile directed at me. “I’m…just…carrying you. Like you’re…the most…important thing…” “You silly big lug!” I cackled with my own massive grin. “Let me down! Lemme down!” He ignored my pleas, only doing so once we entered our dark bedroom, and David ceremoniously placed me atop our king-size bed. He crawled atop me, kissing up my neck and down my chin before reaching my nose. I couldn’t stop giggling. Neither could he. At least, not until we clasped paws. Our irises connected through the black pitch. “I love you, Dave.” “I love you too, Will.” We kissed again, and again, and again, slowly undressing as we celebrated my retirement in another intimate way.