Torm leaned up against the wall of the gymnasium preparing for another in a long line of lectures. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" Coach Crowell berated as he stalked back and forth, his paws clutched together behind his back. "You're losing it Torm. Where are you? Where is your attention supposed to be when you're on the mat?" As the coach turned rapidly at the end of his patrol a tiny string of drool danced at the end of the bulldog's jowls. Torm sighed deeply even now his attention barely on the situation at hand. "Well?"
With another sigh Torm opened his muzzle to reply, but was cut off before he even started to speak. "On the damn match! That's where you're attention is supposed to be." Coach practically made himself hoarse shouting the word supposed. "Now, do you want to tell me where it is? What you're thinking about when you're supposed to be concentrating on winning the match?"
"I'd rather not say Coach," He murmured.
Coach Crowell's voice softened a bit but still it was almost impossible for a bulldog to not sound gruff. "Torm, If you're having personal problems I sympathize, but try to keep your mind on the match. At least while you're in it." Torm glanced around with his eyes, daring not to move his head. He could see at the far end of the room several other members of the team snickering, everyone in the whole college knew what Torm's personal problems were. A series of high gloss photographs were still making their rounds throughout the campus, detailing his personal life.
Torm was drawn back by Coach's paw reassuringly placed on his shoulder. "C'mon kid, State is just over a month away. With one of my best Featherweights quitting the team, the last thing I need is my star Heavyweight distracted by an argument with his boyfriend."
"He wasn't my boyfriend," Torm mumbled.
"Whatever kid. Now you go home, get a good night sleep and try to relax. And see if you and Lex can work things out. Do you want me to go have a talk with him, I'd love to get him back on the team. God knows we need a good second since Martin is on suspension."
"No thanks Coach; this isn't your problem."
"All right, now if you'll excuse me here some of the others have something they want to talk to me about." Coach Crowell walked away towards the group of jokers sincerely enjoying watching Torm get chewed out. Torm turned and walked towards the doors out of the gym. From over his shoulder he heard Coach Crowell's voice, " I can't kick him off the team just because of how he chooses to spend his personal time." Someone gave an unheard reply to this and then Coach said, " I'm the coach of this team; either you practice with who I say you practice with, or get your tail out of this gym and don't come whining back." As soon as Torm stepped out into the open parking lot of the college gym he was caught by a black paw on his shoulder.
Torm turned to face his childhood friend. Astron was a black furred mare with a white start shaped mark on her forehead, from which she derived her name. She had known Torm since they had been just two children fighting over the swing set at the park near where they had grown up; she had known Torm was gay only a week less than he had. They had applied to all the same universities and despite Torm's protests she had turned down the University of Alberta, in Canada, because they had not accepted him.
"You okay?" She asked in kind of a how-was-your-day manner.
"Yeah, Coach was just worried that I've been a bit distracted this week."
Then Torm noticed that she was carrying a large denim gym bag with dark red handles, the one he had made in Junior high textiles class. As he noticed it Astron held the bag out towards him. "Your boyfriend asked me to give this to you, what's his name again?"
"I really wish everyone would stop calling him that!" Torm barked. "He's not my boyfriend, I couldn't care less about that asshole." Wondering if it was as obvious to Astron that he was lying as it was to him, Torm snatched the bag fiercely from her; the same bag Lex had been trying to give him for the last three days. Torm however would immediately start walking the other way as soon as he saw Lex, or ignore him completely if he had to pass him in the halls.
"Sorry, need a ride home?"
"Yeah, thanks. It'll be a while before I can get my car fixed. New tires, and windows all around will cost me over $700"
"Did the police ever find the guys who did that?"
"Yeah right. I don't think they even bothered to look into it."
A few minutes later Astron's hunter green Firefly pulled up outside Torm's apartment building. As Torm got out Astron leaned across the passenger seat to talk to him. "Torm, if you need somebody to talk to just give me a call, okay?"
"Since when have I called anyone else?"
Torm opened the front door with his key and took the elevator up to the fourth floor. When Torm reached room 403 he inserted his key into the lock and turned it waiting for the solid click of the bolt sliding back into the door. Finally his key stopped turning, there was no click. Torm edged the door open and stepped into his little one bedroom apartment. Immediately the kitchen caught his attention; the fridge was missing and fragments of all his dishes lay scattered all over the floor. Torm scented a foul stench in the air, kind of smoky but definitely not normal smoke. In a daze Torm wandered into the living room, and stopped dead. The window to the balcony had been shattered, presumably by the fridge's assisted exit, and the stuffing from the cushions off the couch covered the floor. But most disturbing of all was the source of the smell; burned into the living room carpet was a single word in capital letters. The whole reason his home had been ransacked was spelled out in three letters F...A...G.
Torm felt his stomach rushing at the sight and smell of this scene. His home had been violated just as badly as Lex had violated his trust and his love. Torm rushed out of the apartment his eyes growing wet with tears. He ran into the hallway and collapsed, his mind numb from shock. After god only knows how long he was dimly aware of someone standing beside him, Torm looked up through the thin veil of tears at an 8' Raptor in a police uniform. Someone else must have called them, either after seeing Torm weeping in the hallway or a fridge lying on the lawn beneath a broken bay window.
"Are you all right, sir?" The dinosaur inquired extending a clawed hand to help Torm up.
Torm swallowed his sobs, feeling a little silly for being a grown skunk sitting here bawling like a kitten. "Officer, my home has been vandalized."
"Are they still there?"
Torm shook his head, "They were gone by the time I arrived home."
"Do you know who did this?"
"No, but I think they're the same people who destroyed my car the day before yesterday."
"All right, what I'm going to do, is I'll call for a forensic team and when they get here we'll go have a look around your apartment, okay?" The officer called in to dispatch requesting a forensics team. "I'm Deputy Morice."
"Torm." Torm had now completely settled himself, and was ashamed of his stereotypically gay reaction.
"Did you move anything in the apartment Torm?"
Torm thought for a moment before declaring he had not. In a few minutes the forensic team arrived and started photographing everything. Deputy Morice and Torm followed behind them, Morice opening the kitchen cupboards, those ones that hadn't had their doors torn off that was. Then into the living room, Torm now noticed that in addition to the couch, carpet and window, a large hole had been kicked right through the screen of the Television, and the stereo system had been pulled to the floor and smashed. There was no sign of his CD collection, apparently they had decided that didn't need to be smashed to send the message to him, so they had just stolen it instead, including his autographed copy of Ozzy Osbourne: the Ozzman Cometh; some human had gotten it autographed and then auctioned it off on the internet.
From there they went to the bathroom, stepping into the puddle flooding from the shattered toilet. The bathtub was filled with filled with Lime Jell-O still in it's liquid form and the walls were coated with "Fag!" written over and over again in lipstick; the exclamation made up of a line and a lip mark.
Deputy Morice addressed the forensic team when he saw this. "I want these walls dusted, whoever left those lip prints might have left a nose print as well." Deputy Morice pointed to something Torm hadn't noticed before, a tiny crack in the linoleum coating on the counter had caught a bit of fur, it looked almost silver which eliminated the chance of it being Torm's. "I want this bagged and tested pronto."
They left Forensics to deal with that and approached Torm's bedroom. Torm took a deep breath before nodding to Deputy Morice, signaling him to open the door. Someone creative had been in this room. Most of Torm's clothes were discarded into a pile in the corner, and appeared to have all been ripped in half. His best dress pants lay on the floor beside his favorite silk boxers, the ones he had been wearing the night he and Lex had gone to the gym. Both had been slit up the back from the tailhole, so if someone where to don them that fur's ass would be on open display. His closet door hung open attached by one point at the top left hand corner. Where he should have been seeing a row of T-shirts, dress shirts and a couple of warm sweaters, someone had hung instead two summer dresses. Apparently bargain basement material but they still got the message across, the stereotype that whoever had done this wished to project onto Torm. Another vulgar stench drew Torm's attention to the bed; the shimmering gold colored satin sheets desecrated by a sizable pile of shit. Judging from both the girth and layout of the pile two or more furs had taken turns shitting on his bed. A stained brown lump poked out from under the corner of the pile, covered in runoff, apparently they had pissed on top of the pile.
There was a sizable dent in the wall where the monitor of Torm's computer had been thrown and shattered. Torm looked around and saw no sign of the computer itself, which probably meant they had taken it with them. Suddenly Torm's heart flooded all the anger out of it, and filled up with fear again. They had his computer, the e-mail addresses of all his friends from the gay network on the Internet. All his bookmarks, and his stories. Those private fantasies he had put to keyboard and shared with his friends on the net. Some of those stories had gotten pretty wild, ranging from straightforward sex, to rape, bondage and more bizarre than that. Torm shuddered to think what would happen if they released those to the campus, the humiliation he would suffer then. Once forensics had their pictures of everything Deputy Morice put on a pair of rubber gloves provided by the forensic team and grabbed the object sticking out from under the pile. It was a magazine, the cover of it was undamaged because it had been left open face up on the bed when they began their desecration. It was part of his collection of beefcake magazines that Astron had been buying for him occasionally since he first revealed that he was gay.
Everything happening seemed to be too much for Torm's poor stomach, as it suddenly gave a mighty contraction and proceeded to return everything Torm had given it recently. The skunk dropped onto his knees and tossed his cookies, somehow managing to hit one of the only corners of the apartment untouched by the destructive rampage of whoever had been here. When he had finally thrown up as much as he was going to Torm felt a clawed paw on his shoulder again, "C'mon kid, let's get you out of here and down to the station, we need your help filling out a complete evaluation of what happened.."
The two left the apartment and got into Deputy Morice's patrol car, leaving forensics to gather any appropriate evidence they could find. Once they got into the patroller Deputy Morice turned to Torm, "Torm, when we find the..." The raptor seemed to restrain himself for a moment. "When we find whoever is responsible for this, you'll want a lawyer." Deputy Morice reached into his shirt pocket and produced his wallet, from this he slid a business card, which he handed to Torm.
"I can't afford a lawyer, I'll have to see what I can get from the DA's office." Torm politely refused.
"Give him a call, considering your position he might work on speculation. And if he doesn't I'll give him shit."
"You know this guy," Torm asked taking the card.
"He's my lover," Deputy Morice smiled shyly. "But if you ever tell anyone about this I'll find any excuse to come after you." He and Torm shared a laugh over that.
Torm took a deep breath as he picked up the phone, the busy sounds of the Deitrichtown PD 11th precinct behind him. He dialed slowly and deliberately. Finally the phone on the other end rang. It rang three times before it was answered by a male. "Hello, dad? It's me, Torm."
"I'm sorry," the voice on the other end replied frostily. "You must have the wrong number we have no children." There was a solid click followed by a painful silence from the other end. Torm sat there stunned, the phone slipping from his paw, he had known his father was angry, but he had not in any way suspected his father would disown him, and Torm knew it was pointless to hope that his mother might talk his father into accepting him back, once his father put his foot down nothing changed his mind, so none of the family bothered to try.
"You okay, kid?" Deputy Morice asked as Torm still sat there, his muzzle hanging open, and paw still grasping a non existent phone.
Torm started back to reality, looking up at Morice who repeated his question. "I guess, I just found out my parents are disowning me."
Morice nodded knowingly, "I've been there Torm, I know what it's like. Do you know anyone else you can stay with for a few days until we have finished examining your apartment?"
Torm nodded trying to choke back the tears which seemed to be on the verge of appearing far too often these last few days. He placed the phone back in it's rocker and picked it up again. He dialed again this time it was picked up on the first ring.
"Hi Astron, it's Torm. Listen, can you do me a favor? I need a place to stay for a few days."
"Sure, no problem. What happened?" She sounded concerned on the verge of frightened, probably from the tone of Torm's voice. She could probably tell he was on the verge of crying.
"I'll explain later, can you come down to the 11th precinct and pick me up?"
Within 20 minutes Astron was there. On the way back to her basement suite they stopped and picked up two pizzas she had ordered on her cellular as soon as she left the house. She pulled the car up along the curb in front of the lawn and went around to the side where the door to her suite was. There was a nice family of beavers who lived upstairs and rented out the bathroom, bedroom and small den below.
As they walked into the suite Torm said, "Are you sure it's all right that I left your phone number with the police if anyone is trying to get ahold of me?"
"Of course it's all right, you're going to be staying here for a few days so why not?"
They sat down in the den; Astron on the couch and Torm in the nearby armchair, and opened the pizza boxes, one meat lovers and one vegetarian. As Torm reached for a piece Astron looked at him impatiently before saying, "Are you going to tell me what happened or do I have to guess?"
They sat and ate as Torm spelled out what had happened: the fridge, the carpet, the TV, his bedroom, everything. He left out the conversation he had with Deputy Morice in the patroller, but he told her about his call to his parents. When he got to his father's response Astron gasped in shock. "How could they turn their back on you, they're your family?"
"My father doesn't approve of homosexuality, I knew that all along. I guess I was just fooling myself when I said that he would grow to accept it eventually when I told him. Who knows, maybe if I had told him in my own time, instead of being forced to tell him before he found out from the pictures."
At that moment the phone rang, and Astron picked it up. "Hello? Yes, he's right here. Just a moment."
She held the phone out towards Torm, "It's a Mr. Steraw."
"My landlord," Torm explained as he took the phone. "Hello Mr. Steraw?"
The unmasculinely high pitched voice belonging to the Guinea Pig who ran the building he lived in came back. "Torm, I've just come back from the appartment, I had a talk with the police."
Torm had a really bad feeling where this conversation was going but it was easier to let Mr. Steraw spell it out. "Yes?"
"They feel that as long as you are living here there is a very good chance of a reoccurrence. I'm sorry Torm, but my responsibility is to the whole building. Once these vandals get into the building, who is to say they’ll stop after just one appartment. I'm sorry Torm, but I can't allow a tenant who, even unwillingly, attracts that kind of fur to the building."
"I see." Torm's voice was cold and distant, he shouldn't sound so stunned, he had suspected this was coming as soon as he had started talking to Steraw.
"I'm sorry Torm, I wish there was something I could do."
"That's all right Mr. Steraw, You can just throw out what's in the appartment, there is nothing there I can use anymore."
"Good luck, Torm. I hope things turn out okay for you." The sentence was punctuated by the click of a phone hanging up, as Torm slowly let the phone back into it's rocker. For some reason the ever present tears, which Torm was certain would try to make a guest appearance were nowhere to be found.
"What's wrong?" Astron asked.
"I've been evicted, he's afraid that as long as I live there the vandals will be back, and might start going after other apartments."
"Can he do that? Doesn't he have to give you notice or something?"
"I'm not going to fight it. I don't want to cause any more trouble for Mr. Steraw. And maybe it'd be better if I didn't stay here too long either. If word gets out where I am they won't hesitate to come here, and give this place the same treatment."
"So what are you going to do now?"
"Right now all I want to do is sleep." By now he had finished almost three quarters of his pizza, while Astron had completely finished hers, and was getting ready to make some popcorn. I guess this explains the old saying about eating like a horse.
"Okay, I'm not really tired so why don't you sleep in my bedroom and I'll just crash here on the couch."
Torm held his paws up in front of himself defensively, "I couldn't do that. I don't want to put you out of your own bed."
"It's okay, At least two nights a week I end up sleeping on the couch anyway, because it's easier than getting up and walking to my room."
"Okay, if you're sure." Torm trudged into the bedroom pulling the door closed behind him. Astron's bedroom was sparsely decorated, the only furniture being the bed, a dresser and a table which housed her computer set up. The rest of the table was strewn with a ramshackle mound of biochemistry and genetics texts. Torm could see in the darkness a red eye glaring out at him from under the books. He had been here when the table was clear and knew that it was simply her portable stereo. But in the shadow of today's events that red point of light took on a more sinister countenance. "You're being silly now Torm," he mumbled to himself and stripped off his slacks. He deposited them beside the bed and dropped his T-shirt on top of them. Seeing as how this wasn't his bed he decided to keep his boxers and singlette on. He lay himself down on the bed, and pulled the thin sheet over himself.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Astron asked from the other side of the door.
"I'm fine." He assured her, then in more hushed tones he added, "I have no home, no change of clothes, no job, and less than $50 dollars to my name, I'm just peachy."
Lex stirred the dark liquid in the glass with the bright colored straw that had come with it. He was trying to think of anything except Torm right now, and failing miserably at it. If he closed his eyes, even to blink, he would see that look on Torm's face, that amalgamation of wonder, nonbelief, joy, and lust. If Lex had to put a name to that expression it would be love. And Lex was growing less and less sure with every day that passed that he didn't return that love.
"Shit," he grumbled quietly, his solo discussion being covered by the noise from the dance floor. "Does this mean I'm gay? And if I am, why didn't I have any indication of it before... before that night with Torm. If I'm not gay then why am I having these feelings about Torm?" It occurred to Lex that maybe he was still too sober for this to make any sense. So he set about rectifying this. The smooth rich flavor of Rye and Coke flowed over his tongue and down his throat. As she drank Lex glanced at the dance floor which was just a short distance from the table where he sat. The lowered area was crowded with various furs dancing, some alone some in couples. As he watched a pair of vixens danced their way over towards the edge of the pit. The way they were dancing suggested that they were closer than friends, or soon would be. From what he'd heard about this place that wasn't all that unusual. The only rule here regarding couples was that there weren't any rules regarding couples. Once you step through these doors anything goes. It was kind of like a smorgasbord; everything can be found at Club Sapphire, you just take what you want and leave the rest.
As he watched the vixens heading for the door, Lex noticed a Lynx heading towards him, with a full mug of beer in his hand. The feline was dressed in a pair of tight black jeans and a black T-shirt with a red bio-hazard symbol on it. Lex wondered for a moment if he was finding himself looking at the bar goer with a more than clinical eye, but he decided that this situation with Torm was just making him jumpy. The lynx reached Lex's table. "Is it okay, If I have a seat here?" he shouted over the sound of the music driving the mass of furry bodies nearby.
Lex didn't really care so he nodded. "My name's Lexington, but furs just call me Lex."
"I'm Shank, tell you what, let me buy you a beer. You ever had Canadian beer before, pal?"
"Can't say I have, I don't go to bars that much."
Shank signaled the waitress over and ordered a mug of Labatt for Lex. "I tell you friend, things sure are different up there. The furs in Canada don’t have their own province like we do. They live among the humans, in the same cities, in the same neighborhoods. They go to the same schools and work at the same jobs.”
“Crazy shit. Can you imagine what it’d be like if the Government hadn’t decided to give the state of Idaho to us?” Lex asked as the waitress returned.
“ Yeah, don't I know you from somewhere?" he inquired as Lex was taking his first sip of the beer.
"Do you go to the university?"
"Yeah, I'm a third year psyche student." He appeared about to ask more and then a startled look of recognition passed, like a shadow over his muzzle. "That was you, wasn't it? In those pictures?"
The tips of Lex's ears felt so hot he was convinced that they had burst into flames. It was almost painful how much he blushed at being recognized off campus. He nodded meekly, too embarrassed to speak at that moment.
"So where's your boyfriend? He here with you tonight?" The Lynx continued, not seeming to mind the reputation Lex had developed; A reputation which Lex wasn't sure if it was true or not yet.
"He's not really my boyfriend, he hasn't spoken to me since that night."
"He must be crazy, staying mad at a cutie like you." The Lynx chuckled. Lex looked up to study the cat's features and try to discern whether he was serious, and was met with a sort of a sly wink. So he was serious, and to his own surprise Lex didn't really mind that he was.
Shank groaned loudly as he felt his hips being lifted off the bed. A broad pair of shoulders supported his ankles as a hard length of cock pressed up against his greased opening just underneath his almost non-existent tail. With a solid thrust the male was pushing into him and he mewed looking up at his lover. Drak's fur was deep brown and much courser than Shank's own, but his physique couldn't be matched by anything. If Drak wanted to he could do anything to Shank with or without his consent. And Drak wouldn't exactly balk at taking something that wasn't offered either. Fortunately he cared enough for Shank that he wouldn't do anything Shank wasn't willing to do. Drak smiled with a mouthful of fangs which under other circumstances would have been petrifying as he slid his well lubed dick slowly into the depths of Shank's body. He took it slow at first, teasing both of them with hints of the pleasure that was in store. Shank whimpered and mewed softly, as his sheath began to fill out. Then there was a sudden impact as the wolverine thrust his hips forward without warning, driving himself to the hilt into the feline. He went from first gear all the way to overdrive in a single step, pumping hard into Shank's ass. Shank's pleasure centers where light up like a Christmas tree in Central Park. He closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling of Drak's paws roaming over his lithe torso, caressing his pecs. Shank now realized that he was unintentionally thrusting his hips downward in a counter rhythm to the powerful wolverine. His own felid member had grown fully erect and protruded painfully from his loins. He reached down with one paw and wrapped it around his tool. He ceased the thrusting of his hips and instead ran his paw along the length of his cock. Drak slammed into him again, and let out a savage snarl, as he quickly approached his climax. He desperately sped his thrusting motions up to their maximum, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through Shank's body each time he plowed into him. Shank tightened his anal muscles squeezing the wolverine, and driving him over the edge.
Shank worked his ass muscles with familiar movements, milking the cock buried in his guts for every drop of their sweet seed, that he could possibly squeeze out. At the same time as he could feel the hot blasts of cum splattering against his rectum he felt a strong paw seize the wrist of the paw he was using to tug on his own dick. Drak pulled the Lynx's paw away, preventing him from pushing himself to orgasm. Finally Drak had cum all he was going to, and he pulled out spilling his juice all over the bedsheets. Drak pulled back and lowered his muzzle to brush his nose against Shank's quivering member, shimmering with his pre-cum. Shank purred as Drak opened his muzzle and engulfed his cock. He sucked gently, rubbing his tongue against the slickness of it's warmth. As he bobbed his head in Shank's lap, Drak reached around to fondle the lynx's stub of a tail. Shank grabbed at the edge of the mattress underneath him holding on for dear life as the sensations rocked his body. After a couple minutes of this treatment Drak prodded Shank's still tingling ass with two fingers, causing the cat to erupt, his back arched as he filled the wolverine's cheeks with sticky love. Drak slurped it down, only allowing a tiny bit to trickle out the edge of his muzzle. As Shank slumped back onto the bed Drak crawled up to hold the trembling cat in his arms. They shared a nuzzled and a kiss, Shank always loved tasting his own flavor on his lover's breath. As the nuzzled Drak reached over to the bedside table and seized a pair of glistening handcuffs.
"A shame we didn't get a chance to use these tonight." He murred; a surprisingly peaceful sound from the throat of what was recognized as the most dangerous, and foul tempered creature in nature.
"Unfortunately both of us would rather see those on our lovers than ourselves. But soon they will see use," Shank promised.
"Was he there tonight?"
"Mm-hmm." He nodded affirmatively. "I had a drink with him, and even flirted a bit. He didn't seem to mind. He even said that he and the skunk haven't spoken since the pictures were taken."
"Good, Very soon then."
Shank glanced at the sparkling metal, and smiled cruelly, very soon all his toys would see use. The thoughts of what he would do to that naive little foxling nearly brought him off again.