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An Odd Thing to Say

Chapter Four

> I don't know, man. Sometimes I don't know why I even do things.

> I do.

> Oh yeah? Why's that?

> Because, what else would you do?

> True. BTW, I'm gonna be away for a bit.

> Oh yeah? Afghanistan?

> Even worse. Alabama.

> Shit. Do they even allow your kind there?

> That was actually... kind of racist, man.

> Yeah, it was. Sorry, man.

> We coo'. And besides, there's this dude who rents out clothes there--his son in law has the same name as me, apparently.

> Or he was just a successful troll. What the Hell is your name, anyway?

> Alex.

> No, your real name, I mean.

> Sometimes, I think that "Alex" is more real than I ever will be.

"Not a bad grouping, man. How many bullets do you have left?"

"About half a clip," Nick said.

"M-4s are magazine-fed, Nick."

"And magazines hold rounds, not bullets," the kit snarled. He then snapped his weapon up and fired it from the hip.

The shots went wide and the recoil almost knocked him over--fortuantely Alex was there to grab the rifle and the fox too. He kept Nick from falling over and kept the weapon from doing more damage than it already had.

Then he worked the bolt, ejected the magazine and firmly shoved Nick back.

"Alright, Nick. What's going on?" Alex said. He crossed his arms across his chest and stared down at the kit.

He didn't look mean or unfriendly--not really--at least, not intentionally. But a big tall Bengal like him, with teeth like him and a face like him--even Nick, who knew him well, couldn't help but be intimidated.

His paws relaxed from their fists. He looked off to the side and spoke through gnashing teeth.

"The Cotillion," he said.

"Yeah, how'd it go?"

"You remember Tori?"

"The little cat from Raven's Nest? Yeah, you've been dreaming about her since forever."

"Well, we danced..."

"Good, good," Alex said. "I still don't get why you're angry."

"And then we went to Third Base..."

"Now I _really_don't get why you're angry."

"And I struck out."

"Ah," Alex said. "Now get why you're angry."

The tiger sat down on a bench. Looked out over the range. With his build and his tactical pants and the camouflage visor he wore, let alone the pistol on his hip, he looked like a military man--a soldier. But he wasn't. Was he? Come to that, Alex never had quite said what he did. He'd only ever mentioned that Nick would not believe it, and would be totally justified in not believing it.

"Well, buddy, that can happen at times."

"That's it? That's all you got? 'It happens?'" Nick sneered.

"Matter of fact, yeah," Alex said, fixing a gaze on him again. "It's not ideal, but it is true. What, do you want me to reassure you, and hold your paw, and tell you everything will be alright when it won't? Life's not fair, Nick."

"But--but things were going so well," Nick said. He broke down in anguish and sat next to Alex, face in his paws. "We were dancing, and chatting, and joking--and it was _her_idea to go to Third Base!"

"So--so you go to Third Base, and then what happened?" Alex said. "I'm seriously curious. For a girl to take a guy to Third Base, then split like that--you must have done something royally screwed up."

Nick sat up. Looked at Alex.

"Gee. Thanks."

"Just keeping it real, kit," Alex shrugged. "Anyway, you go to Third Base--and then what?"

"Well, she... you know," Nick said, gesturing between his parted legs. "Kinda... sorta... started to go down on me."

"I feel like I'm a lawyer here," Alex sighed. "Yeah, and then what?"

"And then it all fell apart," Nick said, burying his face in his paws again.

"Oh. Ah. Now I get it," Alex said. Boy, this was a tough conversation. He exhaled. "Well, kit, that _can_happen at times. If you get hot and heavy, a pretense won't last long. Although, Tori must have really been getting into it," he mused. "Even the cheap Ali Rama ones will hold up to a blowjob or two."

"What?" Nick looked up, confused.

"I'm just saying, Chinese goods aren't garbage these days," Alex shrugged. "What you want to avoid is the Taiwanese stuff, and yes, that is a different country. And fuck those guys, they can't make shit anymore--"

"Now I'm totally confused," Nick said. "What are we talking about?"

"An extension, kit," Alex said. "Because that's what fell apart, right? When she was starting to go down on you?"

"Huh? No, I wasn't wearing an extension," Nick said, more confused than ever.

"So wait, then... what actually happened?" Alex said, just as confused.

"She took one look at me and was like... 'Well, it's been real, Nick. See ya! And by the way, wear an extension next time. Make it a two footer!' And then she left. Fucking blue balls," Nick groaned, grasping at his belly from actual physical pain.

"Oh."

Now, at last, they were on the same page. Alex scratched the back of his head. A tough conversation was getting even tougher now.

"Well, look, Nick," he said, "sometimes girls want... what they want."

Fuck. That wasn't helpful at all.

"And sometimes, they just don't want... you."

Somehow that was even worse.

"Look, Nick, for Christ's sakes," Alex said, "if she's fifteen and already into two-footers--"

"--Eighteen--"

"Yes, totally eighteen, my mistake, thank you," Alex said. "But look, if she's already into two-footers... maybe she's not the right one for you.

"And frankly, it's just rude to leave a guy hanging like that. She could have at least given you a handjob. Or a fingerjob, I guess."

Alex involuntarily glanced down at the kit's crotchal reason.

"How... actually... big... are you?" he asked.

"T... ten..." Nick stammered.

"Ah. Well, I'll be honest, that is a hair on the small side," Alex said. "At least, as far as I know. What is that in real numbers, anyway? Four? A little bit less than four? Yeah, that's no big deal--and it's no small deal, either. What I'm saying is, Nick, you'll be fine for most--some girls."

"Now I'm confused again," Nick said. "Real numbers? Four? What are we talking about?"

"That's what ten centimeters is, right?" Alex said. "Ten centimeters is four inches, or pretty close to it anyway."

"I'm not ten centimeters, Alex," Nick said. "I'm ten inches."

Now it was Alex's turn to be totally confused. And shocked. He stared at Nick for a moment, then at his crotchal reason, then back at Nick. Words failed him, so he was silent.

"And that's not that small, right?" Nick said. "I mean, online, most guys are about there. Some are even eight, most are twelve, but ten is like... that's like normal, right?"

"No," Alex said. "No, no, no, no, no part of this is normal, Nick. Ten inches is like--that's way the fuck off the bell curve."

"No, it isn't," Nick said defiantly. "It's right at the top of the bell curve. I know because the internet told me so!"

"Fucking Zoomers," Alex growled. He then drew Nick close, took out his phone, and began to scroll through one medical study after another. Then he showed the kit the magic of camera angles, and borderline stalker-ish sites which discussed the various porn actresses Nick had whacked it to over the years. They were all short--very short--and a casualty of that was that a normal cock on them looked massive.

"So no, Nick, ten inches isn't normal. And it's not on the left side of the bell curve, either," Alex said. "You're wayyyy over to the right."

"I--but--no. No way," Nick said. "Because if that were true that'd mean--if it's really what you say it is, then I'm the biggest guy... in school."

"And the city. And the county. And the state, probably," Alex said. "And at fifteen, you're still growing--"

"I'm eighteen, dammit!"

"Yes, totally eighteen, my mistake, thank you," Alex said. "But you see my point. You're not normal or anywhere near it. You're... fucking huge, my man."

Nick stared at Alex. At his crotchal reason. Back at Alex.

"If that's really true... if I actually am huge... then how big are you?" Nick said.

"Seven inches max. Maybe seven and a half on a good day. But don't tell anyone!" he hissed.

"And you've never, ever had a problem because of being seven?"

"Not once," Alex said. "Not even with your sister. We had... other problems."

"Like what?" Nick laughed humorlessly. "That she likes 'em three at a time?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Alex said seriously. And Nick knew he wasn't joking.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," Alex said. "Seriously, I do--you're thinking about going on a world big cock tour or something like that. But slow your roll, at least for a minute. And think about what you want.

"Yeah, you could probably be some sort of international stud of mystery. You could probably have dozens of girls lining up just to touch you--or taste you. But is that really what you want, Nick?" Alex implored him. "A lifetime of easy casual sex, wherever you go, whenever you want it?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Nick said.

"That's not what you were supposed to say," Alex growled. "Look, just... take a breather, is all I'm saying. Do your own research, do your own measuring, and don't do anything hasty. And think about what I said--what you want in life."

"Honest, casual sex sounds pretty awesome," Nick said. "And when you get right down to it, it's in my blood. I'm my sister's brother. And it's not like girls these days _want_relationships. They want casual sex, just as much as we do."

Alex gave the kit a knowing smile. Then he showed the kit his phone again.

It was an essay--a thesis, really--on the state of modern dating and sex, and what a girl really wanted. Yeah, sex was great, and fun, and fuck yes, but that wasn't what a girl really_wanted. If anything, the sex was a distraction, a way to pass time. Because what a girl really wanted was to do _big things in life.

Go overseas. Become a freaking pilot. Be the best freaking mother to six kits of her own, and another six fosters. Run an ultramarathon. Work her way up to CEO of a huge corporation. And the whole time, love only one man.

A girl needed a guy--a real awesome, stand up guy, the kind of guy who would go to war for you, who would kiss you on the lips after you suck his dick.

Sure, fuck others, now and then. And sure, add some ladies to the mix--fair's fair, after all, and they smell better anyway. But the point was, sex wasn't the be all, end all. It was icing on the cake, but it wasn't the cake itself.

"Well, that takes the cake," Nick said. "But I'm calling bullshit."

"Yeah? Why?" Alex said.

"Because apparently people lie on the internet," Nick said. "And this is an anonymous article. How do you know that it wasn't written by some basement virgin?"

"At first, I thought it was," Alex said. "In fact, I was sure of it."

He then peeked into the source code of the post. Cross-referenced a few links, parsed out an IP address, Duck-ducked it up, and...

"Presto. Your home address," Alex said. "But you didn't write this, did you?"

"No, I didn't," Nick said.

"Well then, process of elimination, Nick," Alex said. "Who did?"

"A Shirley Temple, please."

"Surely you can't be serious."

"I am. And please don't call me Shirley."

The bearded bartender shrugged and poured the soda and syrup into a glass. Stirred it twice, didn't shake it, and slid it Nick's way. Nick toasted him, then sipped the whole thing in one go.

That was the code, according to Alex. Either that, or this was one huge joke he'd cooked up. It was impossible to know. Alex played jokes on him all the time--usually not this embarrassing, but it was hard for Nick to even keep reality straight anymore.

He had gone home in a daze. Him? Huge? Really? And not just huge--world class? He couldn't believe it?

And yet, when he had pressed various household objects to his groin and compared them to his cock--cans of pop, energy drinks, bottles, the TV remote, paper towel rolls--he had to believe that it was true. He was massive. Him, Nick... a giant of cock.

Then he had gotten that cryptic text from Alex.

"Hey kit. I know you're struggling after last night, so I pulled some strings and I can help you out. Well, not me, you know, but... we'll get you taken care of. All you have to do is..."

Go to this bar. Ask for this drink, say this, do this, and then just wait.

That's what had happened. And that was why Nick was sitting there, like a dumbass, staring at nothing, having just downed a fake virgin cocktail.

He felt himself scowl. Virgin. That was fitting. Because that's all he was. He could barely get a dance--he couldn't even get his dick sucked! And that was because he was too big.

Hang on a second, Nick thought. If he really was huge, and Tori didn't like him because he was huge... was his endowment a blessing, or a curse? Or both? Or neither?

"This is way too much to even fucking deal with," Nick sighed.

"Hey. Kit. C'mere."

That was the bartender. He had opened the door leading to behind the bar, and a dimly-lit hallway behind it. Nick stood--then paused.

"What... exactly..."

"Look, do you want to get your dick sucked, or not?" the bartender asked.

"Depends by whom," Nick said cautiously.

But the bartender just laughed. "That's half the fun of it."

Nick quirked a brow but followed the bartender back behind the bar, into the hallway. The place smelled like smoke and was kind of gross, but the dim light and the uncertainty made Nick positively tingle.

The bartender opened an unlabeled door. Nodded for Nick to enter. But the kit paused.

"Just one question," he said. "You know Alex, right?"

"Yeah, I know Alex."

"Well then... what's his deal?" Nick said. "What does he actually do? Who even is he?"

"Fuck knows," the bartender said. "He's the weirdest, most unbelievable, unpredictable guy I've ever met. That said, he's almost the nicest person I've ever met. He'd never hurt a fly, and while he is strange in his ways... I honestly think he's an angel.

"Now, do you want to get your dick sucked, or not?"

Nick sputtered so the bartender rolled his eyes and shoved the kit into the door. Shut it, locked it, dusted off his hands, and went back to the bar to serve actual alcohol.

The lighting in the room was even dimmer. Even Nick's vulpine eyes took some seconds to adjust and when they did, he found himself in a comfortable, almost fashionable little place, covered in red velvet, with clothes hooks purposefully lining the walls.

There was a strong scent of Lysol in the air but beneath that was the unmistakable smell of sex. It was caked into the carpets, the paint, the walls themselves.

This ... this was...

Nick jumped at a slight movement. At the far side of the room, there was a hole in the wall, a hole at waist level... for him. But he was still young--still growing. For a full sized male, the hole would be... just... a bit... lower than the waist.

He focused. Heard the unmistakable sound of breathing on the other side of the wall--and then, as he stepped closer, a pair of velvet soft pink lips appeared on the other side of the hole.

This was fucking crazy. And dangerous--and crazy!

What if the girl on the other side of the wall had a disease? Or what if she was a biter--or what if she wasn't a girl at all?

So many concerns. So many ways this could go wrong. But Nick was blueballed and so the simple thought of getting his dick sucked had him rock hard. Trembling, he undid his pants, pulled them down, his cock so hard that it impacted him in the solar plexus when it sprang to life.

Gasping for his breath, his pants around his ankles, Nick stumbled to the wall. Put one paw on the wall and used the other to guide his cockhead into--

"Yessssssss," he hissed.

It was the warmest, wettest, softest, most wonderful feeling he could have imagined, and then some. It was like his sister's mouth all over again--but this time, she wasn't sleeping and this time, she wasn't going to bite him. The woman on the other side of the wall was a master, an expert, as she sucked at the head and first several inches of his cock.

Nick stood on his tip toes. Tried to get closer. In the process, he accidentally force-fed a bit more of his cock to the cocksucker on the other side than she was willing to take, because there was a high-pitched, surprised, thankfully feminine gag.

She didn't waste time though. She caught her breath--and got right back to it.

"Fu-u-u-u-u-uck," Nick moaned softly.

"Hey. You. No talking," a murmured voice said. "That's part of the rules here. This is totally, and I mean totally, anonymous."

"Yeah--oop--yeah!" Nick moaned. He then stuck a fist into his mouth to hush himself.

But fuck was she good. He could only imagine that she was lasciviously licking all over his cock, getting it nice and wet, before taking it deeper, and deeper, and deeper, and deeper, until her mouth was pressed up against her side of the wall. If only he could get closer--if only he was taller! A few inches of his cock were still outside the hole and fuck, to feel a practiced feminine muzzle against his groin--to see it--fuck!

He'd have liked to enjoy that blowjob for longer. A lot longer. An hour or two, maybe a day, fuck it, a week. But the kit was blueballed on top of being backed up, so it was no surprise when he began to cum, all of thirty seconds later. His climax hit him so hard that he saw stars and hilted himself against the wall, his cock so thick that he almost got a nasty splinter.

He must have cum a cup, maybe a pint, and when he thought he was done, he pulled his still-hard cock out of the gloryhole--and came a bit more into his unknown partners obedient mouth.

She seemed to be panting as much as him. She must have been enjoying this as much as him--and in the dim light of the secret room, he saw an unmistakable smile on unmistakably vulpine lips.

He wanted to thank her. No, he wanted her number; fuck that, he wanted to marry her. But rules were rules, and this was anonymous.

Even so, there had to be something he could do--aha.

Nick knelt, right in front of the gloryhole. Kissed the lips that had just been all over his dick, and not just a little.

It was, in fact, true love's first kiss, anonymous as it might be.