Wallflowers

Story by Muskwalker on SoFurry

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Hop isn't all that good at social stuff. And 'Mish has been in a bad way ever since what happened to Karlie. Maybe they'd be good for each other?


Pounding beats made the dark room tremble, and as usual Hop was standing against the walls, watching the party from the edges.

The tiger was...a little odd, I thought, but not a bad guy. He'd taken to wearing a couple of buttons on his jacket: one reading 'my social processing unit is broken' and the other reading 'please consider including me'.

It wasn't my party, but if I knew even one thing about Ted, it was that our host wouldn't have given half a fuck about helping awkward people--except maybe to help them out the door.

I wondered if there was anything I could do for him. I didn't know him all that well, but I did know enough that we didn't share a lot to talk about--for all his need, he wouldn't have a good time with us. Still...

"Hey babe," I said, leaning in to my otter. "Who do you think might give Hop a good time tonight?"

"Hop? Gosh, could he even----"

"Be good," I said. My guy may have been a sweetheart, but he was definitely selective about who he showed it to. "Do you think he'd get along with Jen?"

He laughed. "Max, Hop's into dudes. Big fat ones. Have you never seen his Twitter?"

I hadn't. "Oh. Well, there's Carver..."

"Carver? Eric's way too jealous."

"He's with Eric?"

He sighed. "What about 'Mish?"

"I thought you said he liked big fat guys? And why would 'Mish even be here? I thought he hated Ted."

"'Mish's blown up since what happened to Karlie. That tub over there? That's 'Mish. And it's Ted's brother he hates, the one who ran off with Detram."


'Mish had indeed gotten huge. The marten was taking his solace at the snack table, looking like he was at least three hundred pounds--or at least twice the size he was last I saw him, and he'd already had some pudge then. He must've taken the Karlie thing hard.

"Hey mart," I said, attempting to put a friendly arm around him--but he flinched away. "Sorry. Hey, are you here with anyone tonight?"

'Mish scowled at me around a mouthful of cupcake. "Do I look like I'm here with someone?"

I raised my hands. "Whoa hey. I was just trying to make sure. There's a fellah I want you to meet."

His eyes were full of doubt, but he let himself be steered to where Hop had taken a seat against the wall and was drinking from a soda bottle he'd brought himself.

"'Mish, this is Hoplack. Hop, Vemish."

They looked at each other with an identical kind of helpless pleading. My otter sure knows how to match 'em, I thought. I went back to my seat and watched to see what would happen.



I wasn't even sure why I'd come to the party tonight. I never could figure out how to do the voodoo magic that passed for social interaction, and I know I only ended up making a fool of myself, someone for them to laugh about in their...groups.

So I was wondering what the catch might be when Max came around and brought me the cutest boy in the room.

"'Mish, this is Hoplack. Hop, Vemish," the fox said, and scurried off.

The chunky marten tried to look me in the eyes, but I looked away, blushing. "Hey. Uh," I started, and found I didn't have any words. I pointed to the buttons on my jacket, the ones I thought might be useful if I happened to turn out broken in public.

"Social processing unit, eh?"

"Yeah," I said. "Like a graphics card in a computer, that you can play games with or whatever. If the graphics card isn't powerful enough you can't do as much. And if you don't have one, maybe you can emulate it off the CPU but it'll be really slow and really low quality. It's like that."

'Mish sat down on the floor beside me, leaning against the wall. "I think I know what you mean. I think...mine was broken not too long ago."

I thought about what I ought to say, listening to the beat of the music--the only reason I came to these parties in the first place, craving the sound like fresh water.

"I've got a motel room not too far from here," 'Mish went on. "Do you want to come someplace quieter? I could do with some company."

"I--" I tried looking at the marten's face, but couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. "I don't--" It's hard to explain why questions like that are so hard to answer. Couldn't I come with him even if I didn't want to be someplace quieter? Maybe I want to be with him more? Why did politeness make me have to lie or answer a question that wasn't asked, just to connect with people?

He took my hesitation as denial. "Sorry, that was too forward of me----"

"No!" I said. "No, if anything, it wasn't forward enough! It was very extremely oblique!" My paw reached for the other button and I held it up, hoping he could read it in the low light: please consider including me.

"Oh. Well, then...would you like to come to my room and hang out?"

How the heck would I know? I thought. I can't predict anything about what his room is like to know if I'd like it or not. I continued holding out the button. He looked so soft and he seemed so nice and I didn't want him to leave just because I was bad at answering questions.

Luckily he took it as whatever answer he was looking for. I watched him lumber to his feet and reach out to help me up. "C'mon. I may have some leftover pizza, too."

I followed him out.


'Mish's room in the motel was barely big enough for the bed and a table; the big marten himself dominated the remaining space as he kicked off his shoes and invited me to get comfortable.

I did know enough to recognize that his version of 'comfortable' didn't involve taking off any other clothes, so I followed suit, taking a seat on the bed beside him with just my shoes off.

We were silent for what felt like a long time. I was almost sure that he'd brought me here to have fun with him--but I didn't feel right making the first move, so I waited.

After a moment he said, "Sorry if I--" but hesitated to go any further. It sounded like a sob. When I looked at his face, I saw he was crying--how long had he been crying? I put out my arms, trying to offer a hug, and he leaned in. "Sorry if I take it a little slow, tiger. I've had a lot of bad experiences and I'm still trying to work through them."

He leaned in and gave me a kiss on the muzzle--gentle at first, but more eagerly moment by moment. I rubbed my paw down his side, stroking his soft belly, feeling my cock get stiffer in response. As his tongue pressed against mine, I smelled the rising musk of his arousal, more and deeper than I would've expected--Maybe he's a sweaty mart, I thought, wondering if maybe he'd like me to lean in for a good sniff...

"You smell good," I said, blushing.

He blushed harder, pointing me down to what I noticed was an unusually large bulge between his legs--and I wasted no time taking advantage of the opportunity, nuzzling down under his belly and pressing my nose against that bulge.

He was hung. "Is----"

"If it's too big, you don't have to try anything..."

"No," I said, pulling the pants down to expose the shaft, which was nearly ten inches in its semi-flaccidity. "I love it. I want to take it----"

The marten flinched and pushed me back, scrambling back a bit himself. "Sorry, I..." He untensed and let out a deep sigh. "I might need you to be careful about...words like that."

I blushed. "Which words?"

"About taking it..."

"Ah...you're not the only one with phrasing trouble, then..."

"I had a bad experience," he said. His dick had already softened considerably, though it still kept most of its size. "I'm not saying no to you, just..."

"I understand. In fact, if it's harder for you...why don't I let you take--I mean, how about I let you lead?"

"Lead like how?"

"Um." I pulled out the other button, the one I kept in my pocket, and showed it to him.

"'I assent'," he read. "Don't you mean 'consent'?"

"No," I said. "Consent means if you want to work with me I have to say 'yes'. And that's how everyone should be treated unless they decide to arrange otherwise. But sometimes communication is broken and 'yes' doesn't work the way we want. Like earlier when you were asking me about coming here and I wanted to spend time with you but I couldn't say 'yes' because that wasn't what you were asking."

"I was asking that!"

"No, you were asking if I wanted to come here! But I don't care about coming here, I wanted to spend time with you! And I couldn't answer the question you didn't ask!" I held up my paw, as much to stop myself and calm down as to try and keep him from answering.

I took some deep breaths.

"So. You see. Sometimes 'yes' is broken. But I don't have trouble saying 'no' when I need to. So instead of giving my consent, you look for my assent, meaning instead of having my 'no' until you can arrange a 'yes', you assume my 'yes' unless I need to give you a 'no'. Um. Sorry if I'm going on about this. Sometimes the words don't work, and sometimes...they do."

"It's all right," he said.

But he wasn't hard at all now and I knew I'd ruined my chance. "I should probably go, shouldn't I..."

The big marten gave me a sad look. "No, you can stay. Um. Because I will have the worst blue balls now if I don't get off. Some needs are proportionate to what's needing them, so this fellah gets pretty needy. Would you like to..." He left off mid-sentence and gave me a look like he was starting to understand me. "I'd like you to...stroke me for a bit? Go ahead."

I felt the heat of myself blushing as the marten laid back on the bed, and I knelt down between his legs, taking that huge soft tube of cockmeat into my paws.

'Mish watched me intently over the curve of his belly, as if he were worried I'd try to steal his cock or something. I stroked him carefully, eager to see what he'd look like at his full length.

Slowly his erection grew again--I could tell it was nearly a foot long, though a couple inches were buried in the soft pad of fat under his belly. I brought my nose close enough to take in the scent of his musk, watching a drop of pre form at the tip of his cock as I worked it.

"May I taste that?" I said, pointing it out.

He took a deep breath, and didn't answer. My own dick was straining in my pants, and I took the opportunity to pull it out and start stroking it as well.

Another deep breath from the marten as I worked our cocks. "Just a taste... Tongue, no mouth..."

I leaned in and slid my tongue up the underside of his shaft--how he squirmed at the touch! perhaps he forgot about feline tongues?--nestling it under the crown of the glans as he gasped, trembling, before I slid over his cockhead, eagerly lapping up the bead of pre.

"Okay, okay! No tongue! You can suck on it, just no more of----"

I had my mouth around it immediately, my jaw stretching to take the whole girth in.

The marten whimpered with need and I went deeper, feeling the head of his cock push against the back of my throat before it slid in further. My eyes teared up as I forced myself to go all the way, nose pressing into the pad of fat beneath his belly as my throat hugged half a foot of his length.

I put down my cock to focus on the big guy underneath me, wrapping my arms around his hips and squeezing his rump as I worked him up and down. 'Mish was moaning out low, his whole body shaking under me as he got close, and with a deep breath I took the whole of his length again, that shaft pulsing as he blew his load down my throat.

I held my place there, listening to the marten's heavy breathing as he recovered, till I needed a breath of my own and pulled off.

"Thank you," he said, pulling me up towards his chest. "I haven't been comfortable enough to do that in a long time."

"I'd love to see you more comfortable." I slid onto the bed beside him as he pulled his shirt off, revealing an expanse of chestnut-brown fur with a golden patch at his throat.

He lay back and I put an arm around him, stroking his chest. He rolled over on his side, his back against me, and I held close to him, listening to his heartbeat calm.

'Mish relaxed as I stroked his side, my blunted claws scritching through his fur bringing him slowly into sleep as I held him. After a few minutes of listening to the big marten's soft breathing, I extricated my arm out from under him and got up.

I didn't really know what he'd want me to do next, so I got my stuff together quietly and headed back to the party.

Maybe they'd still have some nice music going.