Edge Walking. Chap 6: Cleanse
#6 of Edge Walking
"Edge Walking"
By: Cauldron O Boyfur
Notes and Warnings: Yiff! Well, it only took me six chapters to work some real adult storytelling into the "Edge Walking" series, but this chapter is essentially about Jamie masturbating and showering. No, not much plot. I think I whipped up this chapter for the reason that I really did need to get something sexually explicit into "Edge Walking" before I turned 100 years old.
Please critique and offer advice. This is actually my first attempt at writing a story featuring yiff (although I've had experience with Digimon Lemons having written some Taito and Daikeru). Even though the story's reality decrees this as being Solo/M, there is a vivid account of Jamie's sexual fantasy which includes another individual, therefore, I'm categorizing it as M/M.
Also, it must be noted that Chapter 6 takes place only mere minutes following the conclusion of Chapter 5. Likewise, Chapter 6 ends precisely at Chapter 7's starting point. No major gaps of time segregating the three. Several reasons these chapters were split, including when I wrote them, and differentials in the tone each one emits.
Because this chapter contains yiff, I guess I have to give the usual "not to be read by anyone under 18" warning, so yeah, there it is. There is also a kinky emphasis placed on underpants. Yes, embarrassingly enough, I personally do have a 'thing' for guys undies, so if that particular fetish really grosses you out, this may not be the best chapter choice of "Edge Walking" for you to read. Sexual abuse and submission are beyond just being relevant. There are a lot of details that get extremely vicious and brutal. There's also puking from the result of deep throat oral sex, so just be aware of that before venturing further.
I also need to say that I am Jewish. If you think I'm being ignorant towards my own religion, I'll tell you to scram, cuz I know I'm not. In the same vein, I personally have kind of a small penis, so don't get offended about what I say about character furs with the same. God gave me that right when he gave me what I have (or, perhaps more accurately, what I don't have). You'll probably find why I needed to note those down, hehe.
Chapter 6: Cleanse
Character:
Jamie: 16 year old bunny. Male.
Carwyn: 22 year old fox. Male.
Sheila: 21 year old calico cat. Female.
Jamie's Fantasy Jamie: Adult wolf. Male.
Jamie's Fantasy Bunny Partner: 16 year old bunny. Male.
A cornmeal rainbow was swirling like an oil slick in Jamie's tummy. Trix, from Jamie's very tardy breakfast, were sloshing and sifting with each step the little bunny took up the staircase. He had just fished his freshly cleaned clothing out of the dryer, and was carrying them, exploding and dangling from the contours of his twig-like arms. Pants (blatantly stolen from him by his house mates as he slept earlier) were finally in grasp for the first time since waking. Jamie wasn't one for any genre of pants whose leg openings fell below his boyhood's bulge (that is to say that briefs, bikinis, thongs and speedos were all he enjoyed pulling up his lanky legs), so he decided on keeping his thighs, knees, and shins free to enjoy the world, at least till he got showered.
Still parked on the floral couch, watching TV and tweaking from crack, Carwyn was the last fur in the world who would complain about Jamie's indecent attire around the house. The teenage bunny was among the most scrumptious of boys to be disrobed by Carwyn's imaginative eyes. Not knowing the bunny for even a day's length, and soon to be sharing a job with him, were reasons why Carwyn wasn't inclined to deep dig for the treasures beneath Jamie's fluffy tail. But that didn't prevent the older fox from getting hard and horny nearly every time he received an ocular message with little more than a look at the bunny boy. Now, with Jamie's buns and tiny bulge nestled in constrictive blue bikini briefs (and his own foxy brain nestled in crack cocaine's electric strait jacket) Carwyn's cock was so hard that he was convinced it was kidnapping all the blood from the rest of his body to house in it's spongy tissue. Like a hungry beast, precum began drooling out the tip as Carwyn's green eyes stayed visually stapled to Jamie's butt during the bunny's walk up the stairs. The prevailing thought in the fox's mind was to throw Jamie face first on the carpeted steps and bang him from behind before the kid knew what was going on. The only other thought which sauntered into the young adult's mind was that the "Ching" had struck long-eared gold. Nikodim had been waiting a long time for a sexy teenage bunny boy to join the staff, constantly cursing and complaining about bad luck for lacking one. Not only were bunnies in higher demand to be prostituted than any other species, they could also earn outrageous money per trick, amounts which johns would claim a rip off pertaining to any other species. But Jamie, good God, he was beyond beautiful, even by bunny standards. Carwyn could only guess what extravagant amounts Nikodim could demand from clientele who merely yearned for a few measly minutes with Jamie. An orange tabby named Trixie, a well known name in the transvestite and drag cultures, was currently the top earner at the "Cha-Ching", but Carwyn would have no shred of surprise if Jamie took that top spot once Nikodim began pimping him out in a few weeks time. That would also make Carwyn happy, for he was very indifferent towards the pomposity seeping from every part of that particular feline coworker.
Clothes were tossed nonchalantly by the floor of Jamie's bed. So eager for a nice shower (the first he'd stand underneath for over a week), the bunny's brain-on-a-mission had forgotten the fact that clothing didn't materialize from thin air over his fur after a shower. A change of clothes was needed. He'd conveniently neglected to remember that fact, taking a towel into the bathroom as his sole piece of cargo.
Blue tiles, with a pink toilet, bathtub, and sink. An interior designing oxymoron, but Jamie kind of liked it.
Shower curtain was slid open. Faucets were turned, and the spigot came to life with the expulsion of water. This was done even before Jamie had taken off his clothing. It was an unfamiliar shower, so had wanted to leave adequate time for heat to kick in at full potential before he tested it, completely unaware of how sensitive the yin-yang of hot and cold handles were.
About to disown his t-shirt, the mirror hooked him from the corner of the eyes, entrancing him. He was so effeminate. Many male bunnies seemed to have girlish DNA naturally encrypted in their genetics, but Jamie really, really was effeminate. A bitch. No way to tinker it any other way, he enjoyed the bitch role in sexual encounters. In short time, he'd be starting a new job, dancing with his powderpuff undulating like falling leaf, enticing drunken wolves, otters, bears, and felines, most doubling him in age and weight, to trash their inhibitions, allowing their primal urges to go loose. Bunnies were the bitches of society, and he was a bitch even amongst bunnies. Socially, it was insulting and sickening to Jamie. Personally, it was the inversed, as the teenager relished being overpowered.
A shrewd smile manifesting on his lips, Jamie looked at the skinny, petite creature, with chocolate-brown eyes. Eyes, like a deep, complex, multi-chambered cave where others could get lost in for days. "You piece of shit," he whispered to the weak teen in the reflection. Though he was depressed, and did have an indomitable amount of self-loathing, this was not actually said so that Jamie could submerge deeper into self-pity. Odd enough, it was done to raise his libido. A rising cock concurred that it was all going according to plan.
Over a week on the streets, Jamie's boy machinery was busy manufacturing semen. Unfortunately during that time, Jamie's penis, hungry far too often, was subjected to a diet, touched only when being aimed for peeing. But now he was standing in a locked bathroom, in a new house that he was part of, a running shower insuring uninterrupted privacy. The wait was at a close. The shower could be delayed.
His shirt, that was thrown off like a parasite. But the underpants, they were deserving of a more honorable removal. Sensually, Jamie slipped his paws inside the waistband, lowering it tightly against his fur, so it slid along his shaft, which was crying for emancipation from the confines of fabric. A few inches lowered, the elastic of the waistband had finally dipped below the tip of Jamie's penis. Boing! It sprang up with great velocity. Although hard, it took a few bobs up and down before finding a rigid resting spot. There, it subtly throbbed in tune with his heartbeat. A week of neglect, and it was as hard as it deserved to be. Rarely had Jamie ever seen his penis so big. Maybe even a full 4 inches, a feat which he didn't realize was possible.
It was scientific fact that bunnies, on average, had smaller penises than all other furs. Jamie's dick size faltered even below bunny standards. It was not scientific fact that among furs of the same species, Jewish boys had smaller dicks than others, but it was a very popular rumor which many believed to have validity. Whether or not it was indeed true, Jamie certainly wasn't possessive of a penis which could aid in dismantling that notion, but he could certainly help build it up further. Being a boy, nature told him to desire a larger penis. Even wolves (who generally had the largest cocks of all furs), endowed with boyhoods three times that of Jamie's, were always yearning for larger. But his homosexual side, being naturally counteractive to natural law, was glad to have such a small penis. It was validation that he really wasn't meant to be sexually aggressive, as most males enjoy. Even if he were a freak of nature, like a tripod with serpentine penis large enough to be deemed as a third leg, Jamie would still have the "I'm not a real boy" Pinocchio complex. At least it was comforting to know that his body was in concurrency, not contention with that idea.
Still sliding skimpy blue cotton down his white furred legs, Jamie began gyrating and swaying his hips, they way he'd seen Carwyn do while pole dancing the previous night. No longer in the bathroom, Jamie was on stage, an audience fueled on blood, booze, testosterone, and precum, awestruck, pleading to pay any price to have the petite bunny escort them to heaven, be it for just a fleeting moment.
Once encircling ankles like fetters, Jamie stepped out of the second to last barrier from nakedness. The only inorganic body adornment was the silver Star of David necklace given to him by his mother. That, on the other hand, would remain in it's place, leaving Jamie as close to naked as he could get. Underpants weren't completely banished from the scene. A solitary pair worn for over a week, the teenager opted to delve into one of his more kinky perversions.
Jamie loved undies, no way of denying that. He picked up the cloth which had been almost as close to him as God for a week of homelessness. In a city feared for its crime rates and the graffiti tagged alleyways which bridged naive life with murdered death, uncertainty was norm. Yet, no matter what unsavory areas and situations Jamie found himself in, he was always comforted by the fact that at least his underwear was tight enough to keep his basement boys in control at all times. Never causing a ruckus, never making their annoying presence known like children screaming for junkfood in the supermarket, but nestled snug in their maternally fabric basin. Content, complacent, and chill in their luxurious hammock. It was one of the few calm constants he could count on, and yet one of the many reasons why the bunny abhorred the malcontent of boxer shorts, which left even an anatomy as small as his feeling like fish flopping out of water in unsettled confusion.
A week of smothering cotton lapping up perspiration, Jamie just had to allow his olfactory sensors a kingly banquet. Being a drug addict, Jamie had experience with crushing amphetamine tablets for nasal ingestion, but even that chemical hyperspace wasn't able to get his heart pumping in excitement the way used briefs and speedos could. Undies were like fine wine, the longer they fermented against the waist, the more redolent they became. Ostrich-burrowing his nose into this pair, Jamie could've sworn they were bacchanalian in scent.
A python grip was placed around his skinny shaft. He encircled his vein riddled dick with only his thumb and trigger finger, as if he were making the "OK" hand sign. Other fingers had to be splayed off to the side. It would've been nice to use them, but size confines made it so that the two fingers locked perfectly between the waist's base, and bottom of his sensitive, circumcised head. He began to rub.
Fantasy was now growing steadfast roots in his thoughts, turning reality on it's head. There was one particular sexual scenario which Jamie had jerked off to for years.
The bikini's were those of a bunny boy. Sexual fantasy whipped up by Jamie hadn't debated that. But in sexual fantasies, it was impossible for Jamie to be the owner of that piece of clothing. After all, they belonged to a bunny. And in this self-concocted dimension, Jamie was free of his stump-rump curse.
Fur dimmed out. White, to grey, to charcoal, then black. The blasphemy of long ears retrograded into pointed canine ears, and Jamie's penis had grown to a foot in length. A black wolf. Jamie was always a wolf when masturbating.
Bestowed with insurmountable power, Jamie needed an outlet for all frustrations, a fresh face to pound with the battering ram of a footlong cock. He had his penile pray standing in front of him, naked and quivering, eyes unable to detach from the floor. An innocent brown eyed bunny, submissive by nature, but frightened still. And he had more than adequate reason to be. Perhaps in another life, Jamie would've been much like this submissive being he was looming over, but not in this reality. Again, Jamie was a wolf. Wolves, who relished in pleasing themselves at the expense of others. Bunnies, most noteworthy.
With penis nearly as big as a cookie dough roll (but not nearly as sweet), Jamie threw the fragile, long eared teenager to the floor and against the wall with a crash. Tugging, as one would a leash, the black paw of Jamie took grip of white floppy ear and gave it a jerking yank.
"Owwww!" There were tears beginning to brew up in those brown bunny eyes. But pleading and crying had no effect in softening the wolf's small heart. It merely succeeded in further hardening his gargantuan cock. It was all a matter of balance for Jamie, with Zodiac even being that of a Libra. The more pain the long ear expressed, the happier it made his selfish dick.
Pulling on the floppy ear to guide the boy's head, Jamie sat him up, butt on the ground, back against the wall. For amusement's sake, Jamie smashed the kid's head against the wall, a thud reverberating in response. Pinning it against the wall (face now on par with Jamie's black waist), each one of Jamie's paws took a tight, unyielding grip at the base of each ear. With his head now framed on the sides, and solid building to it's blindside, the bunny was plastered in place. He had no way of cock-dodging, or pulling away. He had to take what Jamie was going to feed him, at pace and intensity which only the wolf had means of controlling. Jamie had every intention of being so ferocious it would give the kid PTSD for years to come, as if he were being commissioned by Dista to get the bunny on Prozac.
The monstrous penis aimed a few inches from his face, the bunny stared at it with bewilderment and fear. Jamie let it all sink in for a few seconds, before feeling that the time had come for his joys to unfurl. "Open up now, boy," he said in a commanding whisper. He skipped saying please, but was obeyed nonetheless. The bunny's eyes went closed as his mouth stretched as wide as it could. Jamie wedged his canine cock in, causing lips to expand beyond their natural intention. When doing so, not only did Jamie thrust his shaft forth, but took a step in, providing a more powerful velocity with which to use his hips. A gag, and now tears were evident, being spilt by the bunny out of fear, embarrassment, a feeling of worthlessness, and simply as a natural reaction from his tonsils being smothered by such an abnormal obstruction.
Tears. When sharks attack beach surfers, the swimmers always have a chance of escaping the nightmare, as long as no blood is spilt. But once a shark gets that taste of blood, it further goes into a frenzy, needing more, showing total disregard for the victim, only zoned in to appease itself with another's flesh. To Jamie, bunny tears were the blood to his hammerhead shark-like dick, kerosene fueling the fires of sadism. Catching a glimpse of the glistening which was stringing from sides of the bunny's eyes, Jamie began pounding. From the sides of the bunny's mouth, gurgling, and glugging snuck out alongside frothy drool. As the metronome of hip pumping grew more feverish, the bunny started making noise, squealing pleas sent through a filter of choking. If he was looking for a break, he was going about it the wrong way. He was just an unwilling pyro, dumping bucket after bucket of kerosene onto flammable, wolf sadism. Jamie knew that the bunny would rather be at the dentist's, getting a root canal for one of his two teeth, than subjugation to a wolf's sexual appetite. At the scale's other end, every nerve ending which lined the surface of Jamie's foot-longer had blossomed like flower buds, expanding to get the maximum effect of sliding touch. Just as two sticks rubbed together created heat, the friction of cock against tongue and palate warmed the deepest regions of the brain, which primal animal urges had resided in.
Tears, saliva, snot, an noises laden with terror were all spurting out of the bunny's body openings, in sloppy, messy, and involuntary fashion. His jaw, already numb, felt like it was going to unhinge. For all the herculean power in the world, he couldn't keep it fully forced open anymore, so he had it rest up for a second. Jamie, who was on the cusp of entombing himself in the essence of enjoyment, had his perfection shattered. Bunny teeth raking against his dick's nerve outlet. It was barely detectable, but it was there. It wasn't something he wanted to sense at all, therefore it needed to made clear in the harshest of terms.
Wolf dick was unsheathed from the teen's over-exerted mouth. An absolute wreck who just wanted to end this outing in hell, the choking bunny used the rare break to beg for a stoppage, crying, "No, I can't do this. Please, I just..." He was cut off by a black furred paw smack across the face. Again, Jamie took clenching hold of long ears and cracked the back of the kid's skull against the wall. Now bending over to come face to face with the terrified boy, a scowl constituted Jamie's violent muzzle while growling, "Focking stump-rump. You focking stump-rump! Get those stupid God damn buck teeth away from my dick, or I'm gonna knock em the fock out!"
Though sagged down by tears, the brown eyes were wide open with fear. He was shaking worse than a detoxing drunk with parkinsons disease. During the scolding, the numbed bottom lip of the bunny was electric-like in its quivering, but still able to mouth out an nearly silent and inaudible comfort cry of, "Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy..."
"No focking teeth! Worthless stump-rump, did you get that? No teeth!"
"I, I, I," he stuttered. "I'm sa, sorry."
Jamie opened up to a sharp toothed smile. "You better be sorry. You're worthless. You ain't shit! You know why?"
A second to let the noises of crying out before a soft response, "Cuz, I'm a, ba, ba, bunny?"
"Stump-rump!," Jamie screamed again, using the most hurtful, degrading term he could direct at the long eared creature. To achieve ultimate humiliation, he needed to hear the viciously prejudice term straight from the innocent, gap toothed mouth. "Stump-rump. Why aren't you worth shit?"
It was so hard for the bunny to say, that his self-loathing mind had to use a crowbar in prying it out from the larynx. "I'm a stump. A sti. I'm a stump-rump."
Hard crying, prompted an up and down rock as the bunny was unable to come to terms with disowning whatever vestiges of pride he may have ever had. A few inches away, although it wasn't being physically stimulated, Jamie's penis was still as blood-rich as ever. Its throbbing danced in celebration to the music of another's sobbing, feeling as if it had superceded the omnipotence of God. As far as the bunny was concerned, Jamie was made it clear to him that pugnacious wolf cock was God.
Getting back into standing position, Jamie reset his dick's focus on the bunny. The tiny slit capping Jamie's upraised cock was like a line of symmetry, balanced right in the center of the bunny's face, matching up with the slit segregating the two teeth which had enraged Jamie. No more of that, the boy knew his place in the world, and knowing that he was placed in the world with a life simply for the expendable pleasure of others.
The command, "Open up," was quickly tended to, the bunny jaw straining itself to make a portal into his humid inside. Once placing the head of his dick in, Jamie gave a quick ram. Catching the woeful creature offguard a deep, "Guh," was all he could say in defense.
About a minute or two of jackhammering bunny throat and Jamie began to feel the rhythm of muscle tension-release-tension-release. Strange it didn't feel like he'd hit orgasm yet. In fact he hadn't, as he soon realized that the pulsations were not coming from within his penis but around it. The walls of a tender throat were beginning to quake.
Mother nature is strange in her method of diving the brains of all creatures into segments. Many times, the more advanced areas of the brain are isolated from communicating with the body-function area which keeps watch over the little things that make life possible. A fur doesn't have to use conscious brain power to tell his or her lungs to take in oxygen and expel all else, nor does it have to worry about telling the heart to pump. If those life-sustaining tidbits had to be focused on every moment of every second for a lifetime, that fur would have no brainroom left to reason out the things deemed as being simple, like how 1+1=2. So, conscious thought and life-maintenance are housed in the brain's apartment not only at separate sides of the hall, but on different floors where they have no interaction with each other. While beneficial in most regards, this configuration could spawn problem in some circumstances. The suicidal cannot use their sense of shame to coerce their heart to simply shrivel and go stagnant through brain power alone. The heart continues it's defiant drumming, so they must resort to employing outside assassins, such a an army of pills, a revolver, or a steadfast rope.
Since his airway was clogged by something, the bunny's brain told the lungs to cough, hoping that bursts out air would rid the esophagus of whatever was deeply wedged in. The boy's conscious brain knew the intrusion's identity as being a footlong wolf penis that wasn't going anywhere but deeper down, yet nature's biological blueprint rendered awareness unable to deliver such a message to the body-control centers. There could've been a cherry pit lodged in there, for all it knew. And since Plan A's coughing was futile, now it needed to pull more drastic tactics in effort to reinstate normal breathing. Since air hadn't helped, it now sought help from the other states of matter, solids and liquids. The place the throat could conjure up such a spell was from the stomach, where solid hunks of food were swimming in drink and stomach acid. As a hose was used in spraying out rain gutters to remove clogs, the blast of water would spew forth with berserker mannerism, blowing out all in it's volcanic path.
It wouldn't happen as planned, and the bunny knew it, but could do nothing to stop it.
Eyelids compressed like a nutcracker mouth. A moment before release, not only was the suppressed vocal cry of the teen indecipherable, but it sounded aquatic, like a phrase said underwater.
Chunk-laden, saffron colored puke exploded from the mouth's sides, and between the gap of twin teeth, anywhere that the Jamie's cock wasn't orally occupying. Like a kid hearing a joke while sipping milk, even nostrils ended up barfing.
Outside of administering a cumshot which made a spittoon out of the submissive's eye, very little in the sexual world had the magic to infuse a sadist with the high grade of power he derived from pounding another's throat till vomit was cajoled from subterranean hibernation. It literally was hitting paydirt.
Puke saturated the lower regions of Jamie's black abdomen, his nut sack, and all the way along the inside of his thighs. His cock was blanketed in it, thick as a fleece jacket. To his penis, whose nerves drank in all the acidic potion, it was the ultimate aphrodisiac. The bunny had exported a priceless gold upon the black wolf's body and even darker soul. Serotonin was bouncing around canine brain like a room full of flubber. To show gratitude towards his abused ragdoll, all twelve inches were wedged down ransacked throat, holding it's position. Resting upon a white chin, the hairy, heavy hanging nut sack of Jamie had become the first beard which the teen had ever grown. As a wolf, Jamie displayed unorthodox methods of thanking others who aided happiness in overthrowing nearly every other emotion.
Surprisingly, not only was the bunny in agony, but now he was as well. But agony, belonging to both yin and yang has two spore sources: immense pain, or unfathomable pleasure. Therein lied the difference. The bunny was ensnared in a trench of pain which no creature deserved to experience in life. Jamie, well, he was so submerged in bliss, his face wrinkled, and chainsaw teeth ground together. Legs buckled and precum was already seeping out impatiently from the dick's head. Not yet. Jamie needed to hold out a little longer before cumming. His prostate was in disagreement. Like it developed a case of full blown turrets, the male factory was on the verge of going mad if not allowed to begin spasmodic movement. Not yet. Although the bunny barf was bountiful during the first burst, he had more in him. Jamie could tell he did, and the wolf intended to milk the long eared for every last drop of stomach content.
A back to back wave and now the boy was as empty as his withered pride. Wolf cum couldn't be contained any longer. Just as the bunny's mouth had served intoxicating drink to penile nerve endings, the foot long monster repaid the kindness with a shot of thick cock-snot glazing the tonsils which it had been conversing with for a long, uninterrupted time. It was actually an accident. Jamie preferred giving facials. To treat an already messy little bunny face like a Jackson Pollock canvas for the cock to release it's masterful fury upon was literally the icing on the cake.
Pulling out as quickly as he could without making acquaintance with buck teeth, Jamie's grip of the bunny's jester ears was modified. To take hold of his dick, the right paw unglued it's grip, but the sole ear wasn't free for long before being lassoed alongside it's counterpart, both in the black left paw. It was like the boy went from having pigtails to a ponytail (either way, he was still a girl). Jamie tilted the head back just a tad, not wanting semen to drip from the face, but make indelible residence in the roots of soft, white fur. Wolf cock was on a final sadistic mission, to degrade the pathetic kid to level of a schmatte, a cumrag, a form of existence nearly on par with a moldy sponge.
For the brown bunny eyes, sight was like a car windshield in a typhoon, with defunct wipers. Eyes were squinted, but still opened, as he tried to piece together at least some traces of vision. Poor timing for such a poor being. It was a shame that he couldn't notice the twelve inch dick, like a shotgun, being aimed, cocked, and fired right into his left eye. Unable to take comprehend it all, a shrill high pitched shriek emanated from the depths of a bruised throat. It wasn't unlike how a girl in kindergarten would sound if breaking a leg falling off the monkey bars. Absolutely incredible! If he had indeed been entitled to stand arm in arm with unadulterated bliss during orgasm's onset, now he was standing on the shoulders of bliss, reaching new stratosphere's in feeling. God, he loved being a wolf. Well, he actually loved more that he wasn't a bunny, an aspect which made him lovable in God's judgement, despite the high doses of devilry he gleefully reveled in.
Should an outsider pay witness to the climactic scene playing out, they would be inclined to think Jamie was pumping out lava. At least that's how the sitting bunny made it seem, trying to squirm and wiggle himself away from the overhanging goo geyser. Jamie noticed the attempt, ordering, "Don't move your focking face, bitch," as his paw adopted an even harder noose grip on the ears. Incessantly pumped out, canine cum had bombarded nearly every area of the bunny's face. The basin of the left eye socket had been filled, as if Jamie plastered the teen with a liquid pirate eye patch. That still didn't change the fact that it was Jamie who had pillaged and plundered the youngster. The rest of the syrupy wolf's semen was strewn sporadically like silly string along mouth, nose, eyelashes, etc... devoid of a predictable pattern. But it didn't matter how nicely the cum had sewn itself into the bunny's hair follicles. Wherever cum happened to settle on the bunny's face, it was the flag symbol for imperialist wolf cock, which had just staked it's tyrannical claim in and upon white fur. Displaying violent control over the docile, weak, and frightened pacifist, cum on the bunny's mug read like an uncontested deceleration of new ownership over the long eared land.
Now that his displaced aggression had deflated, Jamie, although breathing heavily, was otherwise speechless while gathering up his clothing. Still seating and blinded, with wolf semen slowly drying and crusting up in his fur, it really began sinking in for the bunny just how meaningless and abominable he was. He didn't wipe the cum from his face, believing that the billions of egg-estranged DNA tadpoles which housed Jamie's genes not only deserved precedence over his own demoralized feelings, but deserved residence over the fur and skin of his unsalvageable body. Still he cried, though not out of physical pain anymore, but the disgust over himself.
Equipped with sadistic attitude towards the weak, Jamie thought that the sight of the conquered bunny crying was chock full of hilarity. This is how it must've looked to a colonist in the nation's birthplace of Phurrydelphia, when walking the streets and passing a prisoner with arms and head in an oak pillory, ashamed and humiliated, the goo of rotten eggs lathering his face. There was the egg of sperm on the bunny's face, but Jamie knew well that the device which was kept him immobile wasn't carved from a tree, but the ice of self-hatred. That was perhaps the most humorous part of the whole thing.
Clothes were bundled up in muscular wolf arms. Jeans, white tank top, and boxer shorts. Ready to leave, Jamie needed to grab one more thing, blue bunny boy bikini briefs. The departing gift was snagged with greed, the way a kid would take a party favor bag from the birthday boy's mother before leaving the party. No thanks required, as he was entitled to it anyway. It was his now, his trophy for being on top, thus coming out on top.
Cold shoulder given to the still-shivering bunny, Jamie sauntered out the room. When almost through the doorway, he help up the kid's underpants, for another look. Briefs without even a fly-front to make a case for masculinity. They looked like panties, just with a little more wiggle room for a boy's anatomy, though, seeing how small the bunny's pecker was anyway, even that probably wasn't needed. What a pansy.
Disarming himself of more than a week's worth of built up bunny batter had given Jamie such an unrivaled orgasm, it caused brown eyes to roll in the back of his head. Masturbating in a crouched position, he nearly feel forward from the jolt of orgasm, with only hard bathroom tile underlining him to break the fall.
Now that he was done jerking off, the fantasy which enveloped him during the act was dispelled as well. Seconds ago, Jamie was a black furred wolf, strong, tall, gifted with a footlong cock. Seconds ago, he administered a cumshot upon the face of a white furred bunny, weak, small, burdened with a 4 inch dick, its size carrying a mocking message that the long eared only had 1/3 of the XY which the wolf could boast. Now, in harsh reality, Jamie was crowned with two floppy ears, like a dual dunce cap. Two fingers on his white paw were holding a penis, still stiff, but not as shockingly hard as it had been, demoted now back below the 4 inch line. There was bunny batter gloved all over his paw. As in fantasy, he'd been the DNA donor, but unlike that vision, he was also it's recipient. Real life, he was always it's recipient, be it his own seed or that of another. Oddly enough, even though masturbatory thoughts placed him in a position of dominance, when having sex with a real life fur, Jamie ways always submissive. Being bottom was something he was not flexible about. He really was a girl at heart, though he'd never have a sex change, as he'd be at a loss for how to cure boredom without his dick. Although, to an old friend of his a few years back, Jamie joked, "I don't have a cock and balls. Really, it's just an overgrown clitoris with ovaries that like the outdoors.
A knock on the door was an even bigger kick into reality. "You alive in there!?" It was Carwyn. He was difficult to hear, fox voice subdued by the droning white noise of a functioning shower spigot. The shower! Masturbation always threw Jamie into a time accelerator. How long had he been in the bathroom? He was supposed to be showering, but the only fluid to dampen any part of his body was pumped from his cock hose. Not only that, about a dozen days of bumming on the filthy streets of Phurrydelphia dictated that he couldn't just bunny hop in and out, he'd really have to shower himself raw.
Jamie gave a tug on the roll on toilet paper. "Yeah, I'm OK," he yelled through the noise filters of door and hissing shower spigot. Shoddy toilet paper, used for cleanup, was flaking against white fur, embedding specs of detached lint into stubborn liquid which was clinging like a needy child to maternal paw. It reminded Jamie of one of the best aspects of his own ghetto-ground childhood summers. The plethora of ice cream trucks which came around everyday. For one dollar, these essentially disguised drug dealers gave cold fix to the diverse gangs of neighborhood kids playing kickball, tag, and dodgeball under a venomous July sun. Every kid on the block, including Jamie, had always ordered the same thing: Bubble Play. A cherry flavored popsicle, shaped like a neon red baseball glove, its center bore the tasty tumor of a bulging baseball gumball, which had messages like "Single", "Triple", "Sacrifice Fly", "Strikeout", and the coveted "Homerun" inscribed on them. They kept tabs on what each kid got, and there were a couple summers which Jamie had actually achieved the highest batting average and homerun count of all his contemporaries. It made the bunny happy, but with tarnishable white fur, the hot pink food coloring chagrined his mother, as it never failed to melt all over his right hand. With paper towel and soap, she'd have to motherly joy of scrubbing the tender paws in attempt to divorce them from unyielding stains. Fuzzy balls of lint were always left in the stead of evicted pink.
Shower steam had already beaded the once smooth mirror, causing it to adapt the look of silver sandpaper. Drawing back the plastic floral designed shower curtain, the teen stepped inside to clean his dirty body, just as he'd cleansed his mind of erotic thoughts, which were blasted from the brain in his cum (riding out on wiggling rafts of sperm). It sucked that he wasted so much time jerking off. It seemed like a good idea back when he was horny, but now that he in the shower with wholesome mind, all he wanted to do was loiter underneath the falling water until his skin pruned. But, conscientious of running up a water bill which he wasn't paying for, insisted that he not lollygag any longer, and start the shampooing process.
Another knock. "Yo!," Carwyn yelled. "Did you grow gills or something?"
"I'm almost done," Jamie yelled back, picking up the amber shampoo bottle. Herbal Elements. Jamie recalled the company's clever ad campaign, which essentially had women orgasming while lathering their fur as their hubbies stood outside the bathroom, eyebrows raised in shock, thinking something sexual was going on without their presence. For a second, Jamie considered pulling the same gag, knowing that Carwyn, having knocked on the door a mere second ago, was still probably lingering somewhere nearby. But then a thought nailed him, that the commercial always had the girl's boyfriend's overhearing their moans. If he mimicked the ads, it would be reeking of the message that the two were boyfriends. And they weren't. Or, were... no, no they weren't. They were co-workers who had just met. Co-workers, with a six year age difference creating oceanic distance between them. Maybe, if given more time to know each other, more time of living together, more time of talking, stretching, dancing, watching TV, going to Phurries and Eagles games together, even of smoking crack together, the two could start up something. But time was an issue, and with less than a day of knowing each other, Jamie knew that the two had built up an amount of time which could only substantiate simple friendship, no more. The bunny kept his voice muzzled while shampooing.
Through every strand of white hair, bubbles brewed up. Ironically, expunging the filth from himself had caused Jamie to look like he'd been dieting on carrots picked from radioactive soil at Three Mile Island. Although quick, he suffocating everything but eyes, ears, and mouth beneath the fragrant foam, scrubbing deep before washing it all out. Even the Star of David was clouded underneath the bubbles, giving life to the idea that cleanliness was next to Godliness. "Lather. Rinse. Repeat if desired." It read like a slogan on every shampoo bottle, except the one Jamie was now holding. To Jamie, it read "Lather. Rinse. Repeat! For the love of God, repeat you hobo!" Two more quick applications were used. At the moment the final mite-sized bubble trickled away from the foot's fur, Jamie turned the shower off.
After drying off quicker than he'd ever done before, he wrapped the damp towel around his waist. Opening the door, he jumped back. He wasn't the only one who did, as Carwyn, with paw raised in a fist, ready for another knocking of wood, was started as well.
"Geez! What the heck were you doing in there?" He didn't even give Jamie a second to respond, before saying, "You know what, nevermind. I'm sure I can take a guess at what was going on for the past 50 minutes. Perfect timing though. I just saw Sheila pull up to the curb outside. C'mon downstairs. She got a lot of stuff at the mall, just for you."
Jamie protested in embarrassment, "I gotta grab my clothes first."
"Clothes!?," the fox exclaimed. "What do you think she's been shopping for all this time? You ain't puttin anything on just yet. You're gonna be wearing something brand new tonight."