FIRGP: Furry Invitational Racing Grand Prix
FIRGP: Furry Invitational Racing Grand Prix
Frison appraised the reporters with a barely patient candor. They're probably thinking of how rude I am and how I got a blister beetle up my ass or something, but I just want to get to the track!
"Mr. Frison! What made you decide on an orange bike and suit?" One spoke up.
Without pause, he declared it was the color of the sunsets he shared with his non-anthro equine friends. When someone else had the nerve to ask about his sponsors, whose emblems were a necessary blight upon his bike, he declared that it was his agent who kept track of that stuff. What the hell do they want next?
A goddamn jingle rigged to my horn so they can hear that "wonderful and familiar" NOISE for one of those drink companies each time I honk it to get some idiot out of my way?!
As he sauntered off, a slightly elongated helmet under his armpit, he heard one more question. He should have ignored it, but chauvinism got the better of him.
"And Sir? What do you say to those you'll be racing against today?"
Frison stopped in his tracks, and twisted about in a showy flair, a proud smile exposing his fine horsy whites.
"Before any of you can collect second, you gotta catch up to me first!" Frison declared, throwing on his helmet, trotting off for the track entrance.
As he came to the raceway, a blue flash zipped by him along the track. Shit! Was he late for the race? Nearby, Fluffy was astride his bike; a red Kawasaki Ninja.
"Hey bro. You look like you seen a ghost...or your in-laws." Fluffy mused, giving his throttle a delicate twist, letting the rumble of the engine speak to him.
"Yeah! Let's do this shit!" The clydesdale declared.
"I thought I missed the race." Frison stated.
Fluffy snorted, shaking his head as he pointed behind.
"Them? No way. Just a bunch of locals breaking in the track for us pros. Speaking of, where did you practice?" Fluffy enquired.
"Lots of country where I come from. Lots of seldom used paths, too." Frison declared.
Fluffy chortled.
"Like a whole 'nother country, huh?" The clydesdale mused.
Frison shrugged at that.
"Nah. Texas is another country, Spain is more than that. a home, I guess." Frison stated.
"I obviously wouldn't know much about that. I lived in Hawaii half my life. Huh. We got a speedway at my place. Guys drive bikes and cars as fast as they want, but I typically don't gun my cylinders on the first mile of the race. You don't want to fry the engine at the beginning. Besides, I'm sure rapid friction like that will warp some of the internal workings permanently if you don't let the damn thing acclimate slowly to the heat." Fluffy replied, as a violet and a green blur zipped past behind him.
Frison waved back as Fluffy waved goodbye.
"Don't think I'll go easy on you, big bro." Frison announced.
"And don't think I'll let you, either!" Retorted the clydesdale sharply.
"Racers to starting positions!" Declared the annoying nasal voice of an Aardvark holding a gun in one paw.
Everyone assembled at the line, eager with blood and cylinders pumping full throttle. Frison thought he had his victory secure-
until-
From behind rolled up the skunk of France, Jacques Depeurneu on his forest green Mitsubishi performance bike.
"How are you and your hayburner friend doing, today? I hope my late admittance hasn't put a stop to your victory party?" Declared the skunk in his usual arrogant, condescending tone.
"Nonsense, I just hope you don't mind driving in my shadow today. On the bright side, you'll have plenty of shade." Retorted Frison sweetly with a jovial touch.
"Hmmm. I think I might have gotten enough shade from this heavy-set buddy of yours." Jacques mused, motioning his head towards Fluffy.
"Careful on the track. My 'heavy-set' bulk might accidentally grind you against a fence." Fluffy replied, a mischievous smile on his lips.
"I should be so unfortunate. I've had my share of misfortunes lately. It seems I am not well liked by many." Replied Jacques cryptically.
"Racers on your mark!" The Aardvark ordered.
Engines came to frightening life, grumbling like harnessed beasts. Bikes covered the air in a noxious fog of gray-black exhaust like the fuming of ancient dragons on the verge of spouting fire. For a moment, bike and beast were truly one; entwined. An unyielding die-cast steel cage meeting great resistance from the presence inside. A presence that roared, purred, grumbled, choked, and sputtered. Alive. Living steel.
"Three!"
The great beasts roared individual curses through tail-pipes, displeased at the waiting, the somber unsatisfying pace of idling.
"Two!"
Internal cages bend with ferocious will and activity. Whatever lives in a motorcycle; Tiger, Dragon, Wolf, Bear, or even Stallion, is certainly pissed now! Motorcycles have more than life; they have emotions. And those emotions expressed right now are not of delight. ROAR! Yes, one among the bikes has a caged tiger. GRRRR! And a wolf imprisoned in the bike next to Frisons' own. But Frisons' whines; maybe whinnies. Maybe-
Like the dominant stallion of the herd trumpeting, challenging an unworthy rival for the rights of leadership.
"One! Go!" The Aardvark fires his gun.
Beasts are appeased as they cry out in vicious lust, each bike now zipping past the starting line. Frison finds himself toward the front of the pack-
Or herd.
As he guns the accelerator to give Jacques an unpleasant surprise. The skunk sees him coming easily, putting his own forest-green beast in the way. Going past in this manner, could then be considered an 'enter at your own peril' move. Frison is right behind Jacques, waiting for an opening; anything.
And all this goes on as they rapidly reach speeds exceeding eighty miles plus.
The first turn is incredibly intense. Frison and everyone else must pull hard and lean on their left side, scratching along the oil-black pavement. From afar, the asphalt looks neat, new, smooth.
Rubbing his arms and legs across it, even in leather chaps and gear, gives him a contrary sensation.
"By the time I make it to the finish, I'll be sanded so neatly, I'll shine." Frison mused to himself.
Microscopic grit tears through his padding bit by bit with every turn. The nice orange-dyed leather of his duds was already ruined, with ragged tiny scratches wearing down the hide. He'd be lucky to get another race out of this set.
Jacque was way beyond on his second lap.
No worries. I have ten laps to overtake him. The victor of the race is not the leader, it's whoever gets over the finish first.
And I'll be over there-
Waiting...
Waiting...
Waiting for your sluggish arrogant ass to complete his final lap.
Each vicious high-speed turn somehow pleases the metal Stallion. Somehow, Frison can sense his bikes' desire to devour the track in so lithe a manner, even if it does thrash it's rider wildly against the unpleasantness that is basically black sand paper. The Stallion glides eagerly along on two balanced tires like the dancer it was meant to be. The Stallion is at one with the bike. Frison realizes with sudden euphoric wonder, that he and the Stallion within the bike are one!
The melding of three powerful elements mystifies him!
Driver, Bike; and the eager beast contained within both.
And he was not aware of it before, but now Frison can hear it; a music; a song that Stallion chants;
When I Crash, written by ThouShaltNot
I'm not stopping the car until I make you cry, I'll drive it all night
Over the border and to every corner and edge of the world
Every island and ocean boiling and blue in motion
I'm not easing the gas until we both can sleep We might as well be running the engine
With never a mention that we're sitting still in the garage and nodding off (a mirage)
And there's no crashing until I see this through
If it's the last thing that I'll ever do
I'll make you feel one second pass
Where I am stone and you are glass
And you are broken when I crash with you
You're not dropping me loose without a fight to hold on for my own life
Though it's a mile below, all the while I'm digging my nails into gravity's ladder
Ripping your mind and matter
You're not walking away until your heart is torn, our tears are reborn
Falling together like a ton of feathers I'm pulling you down to the bottom where we'll be forgotten
I promise that there's no crashing until I see this through
If it's the last thing that I'll ever do
I'll make you feel one second pass
Where I am stone and you are glass
And you are broken when I crash with you
And we'll keep moving faster till you scream
Burning rubber into the end of the dream
The air is breaking round our heavenly speed
And what you fear the most is what I need
And what you fear the most is what I need
Falling together going for forever and never ending
And spending our lives for moments that won't arrive
When you're feeling at last and reeling so fast
Because I'll finally touch what lies behind your walls, I'll make them fall
But there's no crashing until I see this through
If it's the last thing that I'll ever do
To make you feel my heart's affect
We're smashing now, a flaming wreck
And we are broken, we lie misconstrued
The end is spoken long since overdue
And I am bone and you are glass
And the last is first and the first is last
All the searing smoke and the blinding flash
And the smell of hope, the taste of ash
And the gates will open when I crash with you
The gates will open when I crash with you
And you are broken when I crash with you
And you are broken when I crash with you
To be so connected, devoted to every segment of force was a heaven upon itself. Frison actually cried with joy,
As did the Stallion,
As did the orange motorcycle,
All one entity,
All speed.
With the fear gone, Frison braves the competitive hostility of Jacques blood-thirsty machine.
The Wolf.
The angry, pissed off growling of the Wolf.
Stallion and Wolf duel, their struggle a competition outside of time itself.
Stallion trumpets angrily, challenging the murderous lupine to a combative dance; a test lasting an eternity.
Wolf continues to deny Stallion his right to be leader of the pack-
Leader of the herd.
Frison fearlessly gives his furious beast free rein to overtake the Wolf of enmity-
With a vengeance.
Jacque is helpless to stop the Stallion; both of them.
As the three elements roar past with a whinny of triumph.
The Stallion now dances boldly forward, claiming the herd-
The harem-
Every beast lumbering behind him in the two-wheeled race,
The Stallion now claims as his bitch-
His mares.
The Stallion trumpets once more in victory as he charges the finish with feral delight-
And so does Frison,
Both cease to be seperate,
Both are wild,
Both are beast,
Both dance eagerly with masculine pride,
Both are Stallion,
Both are One.
"You've seen it here first folks! On live Teleband broadcast, Bullitt Frison is the victor! Let's get a word with our champ." Declared a reporter nearby the stands; A white sheep fluff ball, a puffy ewe with gold-rimmed spectacles and teeth worthy of newsfurs'.
The annoying ovine femme comes over to the winners' circle to accost him.
"Mr. Frison! How do you intend to celebrate?" She enquired.
How should he answer that, now that he was not the same Frison that started the race? Less cocky, more experience,
Wizened, but not humbled,
Too much masculine pride to be humbled,
And something else...something primal.
"I am stallion! Hear me trumpet! The harem is mine!" Frison cried.
The sheep looked at him like he was crazy.
"Excuse me, Mr. Frison?"
Frison smiled wryly.
"Sorry, I am merely acclimating to a new force inside me. You see, I have become one with my bike, and therefore, one with myself. My inner self."
She nodded stupidly like that admission actually meant something to her.
"Certainly, but Sir? Whom are you inviting to your party?" She mused.
"What party?" He asked vaguely.
"Your victory party!" She sharply retorted.
"Hmmm...my inner stallion doesn't want a party. He seems to want to claim his new mares." Frison declared, smiling.
The reporter left then, confused and eager to put this insanity behind her.
The insanity of adrenaline paced speed.
The insanity of feral dominant instinct.
The insanity of Stallion.
A COMPLETE gift commission for Bullitt Frison, fellow equine and friend to non-anthro equus,
'cause stallions just want to have fun!