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[18+] “The Creation of Water” by Leuna (read by Icefang)

[18+] A story about an adopted wolf, trying to figure out his new life, with risky consequences.

Today’s story is “The Creation of Water” by Leuna, who works as an essayist, and is writing surreal short fiction at FurAffinity.

Read by Icefang, in the cozy corner of the café.

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https://thevoice.dog/episode/18-the-creation-of-water-by-leuna

Transcript
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Today's story concerns adult subject matter for mature listeners.

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If that's not your cup of tea,

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or there are youngsters listening,

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please skip this one

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and come back for another story another time.

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You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.

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This is Rob MacWolf, your fellow traveler,

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and Today’s story is

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“The Creation of Water”

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by Leuna, who works as an essayist, and is writing surreal short fiction

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at FurAffinity.

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Read by Icefang,

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in the cozy corner of the café.

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Please enjoy “The Creation of Water”

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by Leuna I can hear Gwen in the kitchen.

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I can hear her humming to a song from a musical my stepdad once directed.

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I think it was when they first met.

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They worked on that play together,

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that they both held the faith.

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That he was lost or whatever.

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“It’s funny to make an essay about water, especially water that isn’t even real,

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but the act of digitally sculpting it can be a complex nest of problems to the designers yes,

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but also the writers.”

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I’m only half paying attention to the video I have on in the background.

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I’ve seen this weird ferret guy’s stuff bouncing around the net,

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and it just feels good,

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hearing someone talk about things that aren’t gravely important.

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Gwen wouldn’t like how he swears though.

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I tap my claw idly on the table in time with the backing track.

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I feel hungry.

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“Water, in this context, cannot simply just exist like it does in real life.

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It has to carry with it the burden of being a part of a story,

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even as mundane as an obstacle,

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or context for a pit that triggers a game over condition.”

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I calculate how much jerky I have left in my desk drawer,

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and if it will last me until Saturday.

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Shopping on Saturday.

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I could smell the food she was making.

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Sweet potato fries, black olive frozen pizza,

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one of those prepackaged salads.

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Just iceberg lettuce, cucumbers, sesame seeds, shredded carrots…

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it’s all cold though,

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it’s been in the fridge.

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I have a stick in my hand.

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Two… three… I could have one now,

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but then I’d be down to one a day until shopping.

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“So does that mean that it is the solemn duty to make water always look as pretty as possible?

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A lot of people debate about it but yes,

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always, it’s always important to make water look good,

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obviously.” I kind of zoned out when the guy made the joke but

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I still kind of half chuckle.

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I’ll rewatch it later,

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catching sight of the B-roll footage in the essay of one of those games,

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uh… the one with the little wolf boy in a green tunic.

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The water looks thick and vibrant,

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cartoon-y but inviting.

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“Isaach! It’s time for dinner.”

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I look up, tearing half the stick of jerky along with me,

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caught in my teeth.

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Shit. I kind of growl into working the rest down,

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the memory still ringing, of the Very Important Family Meeting where Gwen thought it would be best with baby Joan in our lives to not scare her with my whole meat-eating lifestyle.

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So now it’s just snack meats, jerkies, salami slices, occasionally I’ll treat myself to a slice of something around the corner from our place. It’s artisanal and pricey as hell

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and I’m already trying to save up for a mini-fridge.

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“-but in this expansion,

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the series introduced diving as a mechanic, and they did this.

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Here, where the depths of a massive ocean could, and has in other games,

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been a source of mind-breaking horror,

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is entirely non-violent.

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You can breathe under water due to an enchantment too,

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so there is nothing.

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No stress, just the peaceful music gently sweeping through this gorgeous underwater visage.”

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I have to pause the video now.

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“Hey kiddo.” I give a half smile to Jeremy.

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It’s been two years up here with him and it’s been…

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strange. He’s not unfriendly, he’s kind of the opposite?

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Very happy to be in a stable life, up here, with my mom,

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and their new kid.

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I guess. “Have you been working on any new music?”

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I look up, already halfway through the pizza.

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“Uhh… nothing yet.” I mumble through my bite and swallow roughly.

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“Trying to figure out MIDI stuff.”

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It’s been the same answer I’ve been giving her for the past 4ish years.

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Ever since starting high school

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I decided that it was the best time to get…

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you know, moody, dark and stormy,

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it’s when I started calling her Gwen,

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part of my whole adopted child thing.

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“It sounds really complicated.”

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She adjusted her glasses a little.

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She’s preparing a little glass jar of baby food for little Joan.

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I can’t tell if it’s the smell or the mere suggestion of it that makes my stomach churn unpleasantly.

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I get up to get a glass of water,

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drinking half of it in one fell swoop before sitting down,

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trying to not feel silly with a particularly empty cup now.

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“How’s your homework?”

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The question feels heavy in the air,

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probably because Jeremy was also looking at me.

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I merely shrug and grin.

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“Hey, you know, I’m doing my best.”

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I lie shamelessly.

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“Isaach-” Gwen started but cut herself off.

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“You… you know you can always ask for help.

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I… it can be hard to be held back a year in high school,

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but you’re almost done.

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Senior year. If you need a hand through this…

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well there’s no reason to be a lone wolf, right?”

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She’s smiling, pleased with her little joke.

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I remember a time when I was little when her cheesy jokes and comments about a sheep taking in a little wolf pup felt nice.

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Like I once had a real, good mother.

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But now she has a real,

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good child. – It’s almost a farce how easy it is to sneak out of this place.

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My room’s on the first floor,

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I’m right by the back door entrance, and they’re on the entire other side of the house,

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up on the second floor.

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And this place is built solid, it has to be, the Sky Pagoda’s gotta face all kinds of weird storm clouds and gales and the occasional emergency relocating in the case of a dramatic weather event thing,

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like one of those dust twisters pulling in from past the Boundary.

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Pretty much every building is made to be as indestructible as possible,

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built up on the sprawling network of this floating platform,

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hanging in the clouds, the uh.

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Uh. Tropo…sphere?

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I think? Mr. Matardi is going to be upset with me again.

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I’m either his favorite student,

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or I’ve fooled myself into thinking I’m his favorite student.

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I slip out the back, pulling on my black jacket.

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It was a purchase I made getting into high school, saving up my money.

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I even played it smart back then,

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I got it when it was way too big for me,

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but now? It… is still a little big on me,

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but it’s the comfiest damn thing I got.

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Well worn, I go everywhere in this thing,

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until it’s too hot to,

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and ever since moving up,

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it hasn’t been an issue really.

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I get my ear pods in,

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listening to my weird, moody music.

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I’ve been working through this swan, she’s some…

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old school music legend,

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all of her music is so dense and strange and I don’t think the intent is to be sad or whatever

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but I showed it to Jeremy once and he called it

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“moody” and I guess it’s just stuck in my mind?

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But it cuts through the empty, pristine streets of the Aquarius district,

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the newest one. Most of these houses are still empty,

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hardly a neighborhood yet.

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Some pricey little general stores nearby,

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cafes, diners, all under these lanterns, which were pretty I guess,

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but mostly meant the night was dark,

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empty, silent, everything closes at

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like… 9pm. I’m 2 hours late to the party no one’s ever having here.

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Just polite, decent,

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good people with

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important careers and sensible families.

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Suits and anecdotes and jokes about

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whether or not we’re going to get a thirteenth district and

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no one… cares. That I go here, where I shouldn’t.

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That I’m down, into the maintenance pathways,

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taking the stairwell down…

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down lower and lower.

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The music shifts, a heavy, deliberate beat,

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but it’s mixed, it sounds like it’s thumping at me under water,

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while her voice layers and slides slickly along it.

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Down here, near the fans.

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Massive, constantly humming things.

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The passage down through the steel passages,

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a sprawling network of puzzling tunnels cut clean through hard metals.

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There is no curated charm down here.

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Function only, the workers here patrol blank halls and paths and never care.

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It’s hard to tell if they know I’m here and couldn’t give a shit.

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I am just happy Jeremy’s shift is daytime.

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It lets me get close to these fans. They’re

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so separated from the composed, planned out upstairs that

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the constant hum blends into the background without notice,

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but this close it’s so heavy in the air that it’s bleeding into the mix in my earpods.

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I pause her album,

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find my spot on the catwalk,

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hugging part of the guardrail and drape myself over it.

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My legs dangle into the abyss,

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above one of the fans keeping us afloat,

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moving so fast that there’s no way to see a distinct blade on the thing,

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just humming along,

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It’s the place where the air’s the worst, heavy in my nose,

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humidity desperately clinging to it

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before it’s sucked in like

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most every cloud unfortunate enough to pass by us,

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extracted for every last drop of water to reduce shipping it from below.

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It leaves the sky below clear as well,

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constantly hanging above Basin,

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punching a hole out of the clouds where it lingers, until it has to move again, of course.

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This close to the fans though,

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it feels like I have a direct line to the ground,

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like I could kick my feet into the Block from here

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and topple the whole thing over.

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I think Jeremy has a brother living in the Shelves there?

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I can even see the Boundary creeping in along the far east and west,

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the murky, dusty storm clinging around the last two super cities perpetually.

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I feel it, coming closer…

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closer… gently, seamlessly zooming in on terra firma.

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I slide seamlessly through the guardrail,

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through the invisible fan blades,

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breeze sifting effortlessly through my shaggy, black fur.

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It feels good to get wind that’s not a storm, just…

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a breeze, pouring through my body,

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trying to push and pull me through the sky

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but I’m rain. I’m rain and I am falling and falling.

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I’m going to fall back into Fenn Street,

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by the Nox’s apartment.

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Their little balcony always gets gussied up for big holidays,

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like they’re trying to put the entire block to shame.

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I land without a noise.

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I don’t even feel the landing,

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just… footsteps, kicking up dust again,

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in my fur, clinging to my paws.

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I kick my feet in the open, humming air.

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I’m running through the dusty streets of Basin.

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Past the Nox’s, past the Caliber house.

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I’m… staring at something.

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In the distance. Looking back, Basin is also far away.

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I’ve been running so much.

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Constantly. All the time.

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Over and over and over and

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I’m staring at this mass of metal,

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big, wedged between the two amber cliffs-

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“Hey uh, kid?” I feel a hand on me,

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thick gloves, I look up and it’s this portly brown bear.

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He’s overweight, heavy, and the smell of cigarette smoke clung heavy to him.

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I’ve seen him around often here.

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Fuck. Fuck my leg’s asleep.

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His shift… wasn’t his shift like,

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third? Or… graveyard?

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What’s the name- “Come on,

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let’s get you up.”

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His hands are pulling me up,

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helping to gently pull me from the knot I had worked myself into on the railing.

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“This ain’t a bed, kid.

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I almost didn’t see you,

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you look like a shadow from the back!”

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His laugh is heavy in the air,

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almost cutting clean through the hum.

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I’m unsteady on my feet,

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but I nod, trying to swallow enough to get my voice back.

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“You’re uh… that Cuison lady’s boy, yeah?

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She know you’re out late?”

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Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’s laughing at himself,

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but he lets me lean on him as I steady myself.

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His body is infectiously warm,

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all his extra weight made him almost effortlessly cozy,

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sinking into him almost.

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I have to stop him from telling her.

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“I’m 19.” I blurt out.

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I… okay, I wanted to say it like I’m a grown up,

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like that means I’m an adult and I’m allowed to do as I please but I just…

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say that instead?

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It gets a heavy, hearty laugh from him.

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“Proud of that, huh?

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A kid thinks he’s a man,

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and that means he’s out here,

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trespassing, breaking laws and what,

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cruising?” A sneer forms on his muzzle.

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He rests a hand on my back.

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I feel something welling up in my throat.

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“Cru-” I stop myself.

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I… do I deny this?

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Will he take me home if I do?

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“Whatever man, what if I am?

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What’s it to you?”

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I try and shove myself up and off of him,

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quickly pulling my hands into my pockets.

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I’m still unsteady.

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The bear’s not leaving me alone.though,

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walking besides me,

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pulling out another cigarette, offering it to me.

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I shouldn’t take it,

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Gwen will smell it on me a mile away.

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She maybe already will.

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“Your mom teach you to talk to a stranger like that?”

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Another cheeky grin from him as he lights mine for me.

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I just try and look away as he leads me down another pathway.

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“Lucky you’re cute,

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I bet you get away with murder.”

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“I uh…” I wanted to say that I can’t even get away with eating meat in public.

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It’s late and my body is stiff from sleeping terribly.

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He’s pulling me around a bit by the shoulder,

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I flick the cigarette nervously in my fingers.

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“You got a plan?

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You in college or something?

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I ain’t gonna bite boy, talk.”

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His smile seems so genuine,

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coming from his otherwise gruff exterior.

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I’m freezing up so badly.

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“Haven’t decided yet.”

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I’m not telling him shit about my life if I can help it.

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Which path is he taking me down?

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It’s hard to say whether I’m just tired and it’s just

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late or if we’re lost or if he’s taking me somewhere?

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Every district in this city is usually so colorful and precious that it’s

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weird that this is just underground.

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A sprawling network of paths,

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leading in and leading down.

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Like those old mansions with secret passages? “Mm.”

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The bear seems unsure of what to say,

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but his hand isn’t leaving my shoulder.

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It feels weird. “You don’t have to walk me home-” “Awfully mouthy for a trespassing mutt.”

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He’s still grinning,

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his tone playful,

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like this has been the highlight of his day.

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Maybe it is. “Lost, you don’t wanna go home, you wanna see the sights,

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get up to shit in the dark…”

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“I’m not lost-” I’m very lost,

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I think I caught a glimpse of a sign earlier that said something about

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sublevel 4, Capricorn-

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“Oops~” A lot of things hit at once,

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I think the first is the heat?

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We’re maybe close to a generator or something,

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but it could just be that we’re not alone.

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Breath, moaning, the sounds are hitting next,

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bodies, whispered nothings.

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I’m staring down a lithe avian fellow,

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their leg is up and draped along the shoulder of a lean, shirtless tiger.

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His paw is pushing possessively along his partner’s face,

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obscuring an eye, framing their beak.

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I’m staring. I’m staring too much.

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“My mistake, boy. Terribly sorry.”

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The bear’s grinning from ear to ear at my expression,

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moving to let me go,

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only to approach the couple,

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letting his hand run along the vacant part of the tiger’s back.

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His thrusts don’t even waver at this, not even as his gaze drifts from the bear…

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to me. “New guy?” His voice is softer,

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a little breathy.

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His partner gives an almost barely audible moan,

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green feathers muted in the dim lights.

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They probably look very pretty in brighter lights.

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“Maybe, he said he might be looking for a good time.”

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The bear snickers at this, looking back.

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“Choice is yours, boy.” … …

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I know the right choice here.

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The responsible choice,

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even if this guy knows me,

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if he knows where I live,

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I should run home and deny anything, and this… all of this… none of this will have to mean anything. I keep thinking about this even as I toss my jacket at

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the couple,

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letting it drape over them.

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The bird gives an annoyed groan,

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trying to brush it off them.

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The act gives me a solid glimpse between their legs, but only for a moment,

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seeing their slit spreading wider around his partner,

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before the bear blocked my view.

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“You’re a cheeky pup.”

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It’s hitting me how big his paws are.

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Heavy, it was one thing when he draped them along my shoulder,

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but on my face, pushing me down.

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He’s big, imposing himself on me.

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I open my mouth to protest,

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to try and play it cool,

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you… you have to show them you’re cool, right?

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I show weakness now

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and I’m that bird,

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a trophy, a thing to drape over you.

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“You think you’re hot shit, boy?”

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He’s pulling me to a wall the moment he feels me brace against him.

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I bare my fangs and my hands grip along his arm,

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but he has me by the head,

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pulling me along.

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He… he’s so strong. “I-”

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I’m losing my voice,

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grumbling as he pushes in,

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a hand firm on me,

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tugging my shirt up,

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rough, he… he’s going to tear it.

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Fuck he’s going to tear it.

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He notices my tension,

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the panic breaking over my glaring expression.

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I have to cave or else I have to explain a missing shirt to Gwen when I get home.

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Fuck- “That’s better, right?

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Fuck, your fur is so pretty~”

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The comment rubs salt in the wound as I relent

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and help him tug the shirt clear off.

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He looks at it, a pretty unassuming gray tee.

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I’ve quietly benched all of my more colorful clothes in an effort to seem less like Gwen’s precious little wolflamb.

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He’s clearly not looking at it to learn more about me, or whatever.

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His other paw suddenly slams me back against the walls,

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dull claws pushing and raking down my front,

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pushing me down as I recoil.

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There’s pain, just a flash of it,

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and I… I’m on my knees.

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“No peeking, come on, boy.”

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He’s lucky he’s keeping me steady with his paw,

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now back to my head,

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as he steps in and awkwardly mashes my shirt over my eyes.

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It’s clumsy, it’s a shirt,

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it doesn’t really work well as a blindfold,

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but he’s wrapping it dutifully around my head,

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pinning an ear awkwardly against my head.

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I snarl a little

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and feel heat radiating against me,

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he’s closer. “Easy does it.

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Just need to protect your identity, right?

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Don’t want anyone knowing about that nice lady’s kid…”

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The bear can’t hide his smug grin,

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even blindfolded as I am.

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I hear the tiger snicker a little in the background. I don’t

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know how to respond,

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but it’s clear I’m not supposed to when he works his belt open

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and I feel him on me,

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thick, warmth creeping all over my muzzle.

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“Good to meet you, Boy.”

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He adds a real weight to this,

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like he’s dubbing me,

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heavy paw guiding me in closer.

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I… I can’t tell how big he really is,

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but I can feel him heavy on my muzzle,

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gliding up, brushing over my shirt shamelessly,

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up along my face.

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I give a little huff,

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lips mashing into a pair of heavy, thick orbs.

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His scent is still tainted by cigarette smoke,

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the richer undertones are tantalizing but muted.

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I don’t even think about my position here as I

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open my mouth to try and tell him he should cut back,

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his paw moving to the back of my neck instead,

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grinding me into the sweet spot,

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between his cock and balls, and…

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and however big he is it’s like I’m enveloped in him,

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his slightly slick length pressing along my face.

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I can’t take a breath that isn’t tainted in his tainted body. “Shhhhh

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it’s okay, deep breaths,

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you’re gonna be fine.”

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His voice is warm and heavy,

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even as he talks down to me,

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his free paw petting over me before moving.

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He’s pulling back for a moment,

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and that paw is on my muzzle,

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heavy thumb and fingers pushing at the hinge to coax my mouth open.

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I’m resisting,

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I… I have to, I feel the rush of shame burning in my face

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but he’s prying his way in

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and it… it’s not aggressive?

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He’s patient with me,

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like he’s teaching me how to behave,

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how to open properly,

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even as I have to open wide to fit him,

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to feel him in me.

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He’s thick, a strain to take in.

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I… I… can feel him leaking

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bitter pre in my mouth,

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hips moving subtly but he’s stepping in closer,

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like he’s trying to smother me between t he all and his chubby, heavy, furry frame,

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plush warmth and thick fur mashing along me before long.

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Just… j-just how much was in me already?

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I give aa rough groan as he works in,

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never losing the kind of firm patience he has with me,

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paws keeping me in place as he works in,

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humping lightly, easing me into reciprocating,

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into starting to knead my tongue clumsily along the underside of his invading prick.

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“Here, use this to clean up,

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I’ll be right back sweetheart~”

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I hear the tiger’s smooth voice before I feel a third paw on me,

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on my chest. “I need a little help,

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they ain’t got the mouth for it you know-”

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“I like watching you clean yourself though~”

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The bear’s deeper rumble lingers in my head

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before that massive length slides back.

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I catch a desperate breath, feeling a sticky line of

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pre connecting us

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both. “Wait-” My voice is thick and clumsy

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but I get another patronizing shush,

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feeling another cock,

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barbs poking cheekily into my fur,

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though more than anything,

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the smell was much heavier and…

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well cleaner? Butt he was slick,

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rubbing cum over me,

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into my shirt, along my muzzle.

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“Boy, there’s a bit of a pecking order here.

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You’re new, you gotta listen to your elders.”

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I can hear the tiger snickering as the bear continues to toy with me.

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I give a groan in protest,

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but the bear’s heavy mitt is back on prying my mouth open,

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and I’m met with the other stranger’s cock,

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his cum smearing along my tongue as he pushes in.

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He… isn’t as big as the bear,

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but only by a little,

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he’s still spreading me open,

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his barbs digging callously into the back of my tongue before pushing deeper.

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His smaller paws were on my head possessively,

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gripping in tight as the bigger ones gently pet me.

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I can’t move. The tiger’s grinding in hard,

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pushing until his stained orbs are mashed in against me,

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working in shallow thrusts.

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“Get it… nice and clean, Boy~”

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it feels weird hearing him also call me boy.

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He’s throbbing a little as he works me,

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driving in deeper,

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making me spasm hard as I feel a lurching discomfort.

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Fuck I’m gagging a little,

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but he seems to notice and backs off.

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“He’s a little inexperienced.”

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He reports to the bear

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in what feels like very obvious faux disappointment.

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I can feel him gently throb in my mouth a little with every grind.

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“It’s good to have a regular mouth again.”

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He’s kind of pulled aside after a moment longer,

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and I’m back to the bear.

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He’s pushing back in,

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rumbling. I had to gulp the tiger’s vaguely…

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sweet cum. It takes me a moment to realize but it was subtle and inoffensive.

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I don’t even notice I do it until the bear is back in me,

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working into a regular groove again.

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He’s not as firm with his grip,

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but he’s working,

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pushing in until I start to lurch again

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then backing out a bit.

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“Steady… relax it.

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You… just gotta focus on me,

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on what’s in you.

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You’re not gonna choke-”

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He snickers, but he isn’t pushing me.

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He is giving shallow thrusts though.

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“Hands on the goods, Boy.

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C’mon, make me feel good-”

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His voice is nice and easy,

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and I remember that my hands have been just kind of clasped nervously over his legs since he took over.

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I trace them up his jeans until I feel where they’ve been lowered,

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and then… as he’s giving me gentle rocks, working into me a bit at a time,

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just a little deeper,

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like he’s trying to condition me to take him,

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I’m feeling over his massive balls.

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Heavy fur, big enough that it almost feels like I need both hands to hoist them.

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I’m breathing faster,

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nose puffing a bit as he groans appreciatively.

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His thrusts are eager,

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but he’s not rutting me like some feral beast.

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He’s… enjoying me,

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making me work him,

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making me taste his bitter,

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almost abrasive pre as it grows steadier and steadier,

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as my hands gently rub into him.

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I feel close up against him,

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his fur, his body, his cock humping and humping-

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“Oh come on, he’s new-”

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I hear a thinner, softer voice from across the hall

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in response to a feeling of splattering, wet warmth.

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Thick ropes of cum are haphazardly painted over my blinded face,

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the bitter scent of the bear momentarily dwarfed by it.

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It’s… everywhere, down my collarbone,

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over my face, on my shirt.

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The bear snickers at this, grinding still.

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“You ain’t getting cleaned up again until I’m done-”

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His voice is mostly steady,

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but there’s a telltale shudder over him,

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his thrusts getting a little rougher.

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“Nnnh, hey, grab his hands-”

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I have no way of stopping him or asking as his mitts pull me back from the wall a little,

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the tiger now gripping my wrists and stepping over,

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resting his drooling cock along the crook of my neck as he steps in behind,

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just for a moment before settling in behind me.

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I can feel his messy length slide along my back as he basically cradles me in place,

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pulling my hands off of the bear and behind my back.

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Said bear is gripping me tighter,

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I can feel his stomach kind of mashing along my head as he must be lurching forward,

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humping harder, shallow, eager thrusts.

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He’s ramping up, bucking,

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getting deep until I start to gag again.

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He still backs off a little,

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but his thrusts aren’t slowing down.

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I can feel him leak more and more into me until he comes.

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Thick, oppressive,

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burning, bitter seed

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splashing into the back of my throat.

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I choke a gulp down roughly,

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the taste enough to make my nose sting and I just… c

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-can’t swallow the rest,

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having it fill my mouth and drool messily out the corners,

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coating my front in obscene rivulets of his seed. “Pffff,

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picky eater-” The tiger’s voice rings in my ear as he kisses along the back of my neck,

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nipping my free ear.

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I give a strangled whine.

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“Told you you should cut back~” “Hf, ‘m

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working… on it…” The bear mumbles,

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grinding into me, uncaring,

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pump after rich pump.

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Bitterness is slowly oozing from my mouth,

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clinging into my fur. “Mmh…

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bring the rag sweetie.”

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The bear grumbles into the air,

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petting me affectionately,

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running a thumb along my temple.

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He’s pulling my tainted shirt a little,

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but stops before I feel a very, very familiar fabric over my front,

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wiping… or… rubbing the cum into my fur almost.

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He’s cradling my jacket under my chin as he slides out,

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letting me groan and release his cum all over my favorite article of clothing.

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I… I can’t bear to swallow it,

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even for this.

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I’m panting weakly, seeing the thick ropes and smears of seed all over it finally,

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as the bear pulls my shirt off my head.

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He rubs my face with it roughly too,

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snickering still.

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“You did so well, Boy~”

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He says to me gently,

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the tiger’s paws rubbing my arms gently.

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I… I don’t know what to say.

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I feel like something’s choking up my throat.

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He’s getting me up.

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I look at the naked bird,

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their arms crossed, looking away.

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“Put it on, and I’ll take you home safe and sound, yeah?

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We’re a little ways off from Aquarius.” …

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“What’s your name?”

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I mumble, trying to not think about how much I can still smell them,

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my shirt and fur and jacket all clinging together.

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He’s got an arm around me again. “Heheh,

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names ain’t helping no one down here.

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I’ll take… Sir or Daddy,

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your pick.” “I already have too many parents.”

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The bear cackles at this,

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holding me steady,

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rubbing my arm. “Mmh. You’re a good boy.

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Love to have you back around.”

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I can’t consider anything,

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not like this. I have to keep…

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I have to keep something from coming out.

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Crying? Clinging? Calling him some kind of embarrassing name?

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I have no idea what I’m doing so I’m just.

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I’m just quiet. I’m quiet

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until I thank him once it’s familiar enough to find my way back.

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He kisses my brow and ruffles my fur.

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A good boy. And that’s it.

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No numbers, no contact, no real names,

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no way of knowing how I’ll see him again.

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Goodbye. Nothing makes sense by the time I’m through the back door.

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I’ll have to shower first thing in the morning.

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I can’t think about the way I can smell them,

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or how angry I am that I was

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pushed around, or how I

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enjoyed it, I… no, I have to cover this up.

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I lock my room, I see a 4:09 on my phone’s screen,

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the paused fennec on my screen.

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I’m stripping, I’m peeling out of my jeans, noticing the embarrassing slick spot in my underwear,

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manifested proof that I can’t see.

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Then the shirt and jacket,

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tainted, sticky, reeking of cigarettes.

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I have to put them in the bottom of my hamper,

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pulling some already clean clothes from my drawers to pile on more and more.

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And then… and then it’s just me.

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In bed. Thinking about the shower in the morning.

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But now I have to lay in bed.

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A good boy. This was “The Creation of Water”

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by Leuna, read for you by Icefang,

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in the cozy corner of the café.

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You can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

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or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

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Thank you for listening

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to The Voice of Dog.

About the Podcast

Show artwork for The Voice of Dog
The Voice of Dog
Furry stories to warm the ol' cockles, read by Rob MacWolf and guests. If you have a story that would suit the show, you can get in touch with @VoiceOfDog@meow.social on Mastodon, @voiceofdog.bsky.social on Blue Sky, or @Theodwulf on Telegram.

About your host

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Khaki