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Certain conversations with owls put me on edge. The first time I ever "got" someone by accident, it was an owl. He surprised me by turning his head all the way around at a moment when I wasn't expecting it. I tended to avoid owls for a few years after that.

But Bruce knew quite a few owls and was very friendly with more than one of them. Xander stood out amongst them all. He and I have a few things in common now, but back then there was only one thing: we had both slept with Bruce!

He was a professor back then when we first met. He's tenured at Wagsford College...THE Wagsford College, I'm sure you've heard of it. He writes Economics textbooks; he's been interviewed by media figures and he's been consulted by government agencies about his insights and opinions on his specialty.

The only time I've ever appeared in the media was an article about how rare cockatrices were. And though we have our title of "Professor" in common, I'm at Tischwood Tech School, the school whose motto may as well be "We welcome anyone who can walk through the front door--and don't forget to pay!"

The differences continue: Xander is wealthy. His family has had money for generations, and he lives in a mansion. He has a butler, Aubrey, a dog of good breeding and manners.

The last time I saw most of my family they were all still living in a coop. I've moved up figuratively, but not literally, because now I live in a hole in the ground under a tree.

Not that I'm down on myself, but Xander was an important and influential friend to Bruce, and became important for different reasons in my life, but that's a different story.

When he invited Bruce to dine and stay for a weekend, it was something Bruce had expected. "There'll be some sort of reason for gathering, officially," he explained. "But he's really interested in meeting you."

I reread the invitation. "There'll be a lunar eclipse, and Archie, the dear, will be staying too to give us a professional play by play. I love the boys in the parliament but we really need a few of us who are NOT owls to be there to keep us honest! And you must bring your fascinating new friend with you, I've heard about him and I can't wait to make his acquaintance."

"He'll probably set us up in a fancy bedroom and spy on us to see if we do it," Bruce said. "It's not that he's jealous, but he likes to think of himself as a patriarch matchmaker." He nodded a few times and added "He's also a pervert."

The fact that he was an owl brought back the unpleasant memory of my first accident; Bruce mistook that for me being shocked at the thought of a peeping owl and hugged me

"He won't watch if he knows it's going to bother you."

"No no, I...I mean, it's not a big deal." I didn't really talk with Bruce much about the things I'd done, surfing couches and living in the wild, doing ANYTHING to make ends meet. Back then, having a rich dude watch me do something wasn't worth twitching a tail scale over.

In addition, and I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but I love my badger. I loved getting fucked by him, right from the beginning. Back then, he was still exclusively topping me, and I didn't mind that a bit; I still had the mindset that I was somehow "earning my keep" to stay in his sett.

So, the weekend of the lunar eclipse arrived; Audrey the butler served us great food with elegance. I never found out if he cooked it too, or if Xander had a larger staff who stayed out of sight.

The guests included Archie, owl astronomer, who was very excited about this event and who brought another owl as a date. I never found out if there were such a thing as a badger bar, where Bruce could go, but owl bars are definitely a thing, and Bruce fit in there well. He seemed to know everybody with feathers at this party.

Gary was an alligator, a large fellow who was the first of his kind I had ever seen. It was clear to me that he and Xander were going to hook up later.

There were two foxes, but I hardly said a word to them the whole night. I think they were a couple, but it was not clear. Some more folks were supposed to come later in the weekend.

All of them except for Archie and myself were really into sports. After supper, we all moved into Xander's library and most of them fell into a long, boring conversation about who was going to win what. Archie left to play with his telescopes and equipment, to be used later; and that's when Xander gave me a wineglass and quietly nodded toward a door that was carved out of a bookshelf.

I followed him, and we found ourselves alone in a very small parlor. I wondered if it had been a closet at one point, but it was furnished incredibly from ceiling to floor with tiny tables, three comfortable chairs, a platter of hors d'oeuvres I recognized from dinner, a little liquor cabinet and a temperature controlled humidor for cigars. We sat after he filled my glass.

"Bruce has mentioned that he's quite taken with you." This was punctuated by one of the last hors d'oeuvres, flipped into his beak with a well-practiced snap. "Did he tell you that I'm quite fond of him, as well?"

"He did." The smallness of the parlor made me think of the cozy den where Bruce and I slept those days. "He also said that usually, when you liked someone, you liked to...screen their partners, subject them to sort of an audition."

"I'm sure you know the proper word for it, my young bird: voyeurism. Someone like you can appreciate the power in a focused gaze, I'm sure!" He refilled his own drink and waved the bottle at me with his head tilted to wordlessly ask if I'd like a refill.

I handed over my glass and nodded. "When we arrived and you told us you'd prepared a bedroom, I figured it would happen. I sort of imagined that you might...well...be more secretive?"

"Sneaking around in one's own home is not done," he said. He drained his glass and leaned back. "When the fellows from the parliament mentioned what you were, I admit I was very curious. I did some research. Tell me, have you started a collection yet?"

My tail curled around the base of the chair, and I found I couldn't move it. I don't think I would have reacted quite so strongly if only he hadn't been an owl. Did all owls know each other? Did word get around in their "parliament"? I'm embarrassed to admit it now, but for a few seconds I thought he was saying he was a member of some governing body before remembering it's just the traditional way to refer to groups of owls. They're somewhat strange birds, sometimes. "No, I haven't...is it normal to do something like that? I mean...collect statues?" I thought of that other owl, and the accident.

"Well, the records indicate there's usually been a patron involved--often nobility, sometimes merely someone with a bit of clout and some institutional weight, working behind the scenes--but yes. There are quite a few precedents for cockatrices amassing quite large statuaries through the course of their lives. You should have Bruce tunnel out a good storage room for you if you're going to 'go it alone', so to speak, without any kind of benefactor to smooth things over. But there's plenty of time to worry about that later! There's something else I wanted to ask you."

He set down his glass and stood. This was making me nervous, and I longed to adjust my glasses: my number one nervous habit. Just when I thought I couldn't stand it anymore, he pulled down his pants.

Now this was familiar territory for me during those days. I gave him as good of an appraisal as I could, wearing my shades. He was just hitting his stride of maturity, very close then to the age that Bruce and I are now. His feathers were beautifully groomed, not even one on his chest out of place. He spread his wings, perhaps for effect, but I was busy looking at his crotch. He was already stiff, and I liked what I saw.

But what would Bruce think? I looked away.

"Very bashful, but maybe not too much so. I like that, I think Bruce made a good pick. I foresee you two being together for a long while. I wanted to see if you were interested in having a little fun before we go out to gaze at the moon." He folded his wings and watched me.

"He's just in the other room, isn't he? I mean...I don't know if I could do that, without him knowing. My badger...Bruce, that is."

Xander walked past me and opened the door. Archie had come back inside, and they all stopped talking at the sight of Xander, clothed splendidly in his plumage but nothing else. "Tuwhooo, Bruce! I'm going to give Hauke a trial run."

I heard the badger say "He's bigger than you might expect."

"Don't get wrecked by him, then," Gary said, looking over his shoulder. Well then.

Xander almost shut the door but didn't close it on the latch. "Got a bit of size, do you? Let's see!" He wriggled his fingers as if eager to swoop in and pounce.

The only objection I thought I had was apparently not an obstacle, and Xander was, and still is, a very handsome owl. I took off my clothes and reached down to start to tease and play with the owl's cock. He closed his eyes and his rod grew stiffer while I fondled him. "I'm sure you've got condoms in here?" He was not quite Bruce's size, and I was either getting fucked by the badger, or playing with toys in anticipation of being fucked by the badger, often enough so that I thought I could get Xander inside me without lube.

"I hope they'll fit you," he said. He went to the liquor cabinet, and sure enough, there was a box of rubbers as well as some lube.

"Fit me? I don't usually.... I mean, Bruce and I, he is typically...the one who mounts up."

"He'll eventually want to have you inside him," Xander said. "Trust me--it'll happen. But show me what you've got?" He fanned his tailfeathers up and wider, something that the way I'm built, I can't do at all, but that I never fail to find very attractive.

I stared at his ass, crowned by the beautiful tailfeathers, and mumbled something. It may have even made sense.

"Have a seat," the owl said as he pushed me backward onto an ottoman. He slipped a condom onto me with a bit of a struggle, lubed it up generously and gave me a wink as he slid his fingers back and forth across his ass with more lube. "Be gentle, big guy."

He turned and squatted, shuffling backward against me. He had great aim; I found out later he prided himself in being a power bottom extraordinaire. Even through the rubber, it was a thrill to feel the head of my cock brush against his ring, then slowly nudge it open and start to slip inside his wonderful feathered butt.

"You're so tight, Xander." I put my hands on his shoulders and squeezed them while pushing myself deeper inside.

"No, you're just very big," he grunted. "Bruce wasn't kidding." It didn't seem to stop the owl, though. He backed up further until he was just about sitting in my lap, grinding against me and getting my shaft up as deep as it could go into his ass.

He leaned forward to give me some room to work, and I went right to it. I bucked forward and back, clucking and squawking but trying to keep quiet as his ass squeezed and tightened around me. I switched my grip from his shoulders to his hips and kept pulling him back against myself in time with my hips pushing forward. I started getting my tail involved, pressing it against the floor behind me to give us even more forward thrust.

"Give it to me! Oh yeah, keep it up, pound my ass Hauke! Pound my ass hard!"

"I am! I am, I'm gonna....ah...aww AWWWWWK!" It was all over quickly, which after the fact made me feel a little embarrassed. But I've been told that while a big cock feels good, there's such a thing as overstaying your welcome. That was the first time in a long time I had topped anyone, and it made me eager to do it again.

"So how was it," asked Bruce. He was in the room, leaning on one of the chairs. I hadn't heard him come in.

"Hoooo," said Xander. "He's a keeper."