Fall In
((I was recently inspired to get back into writing, and as one of the warmup exorcises, I'll be writing a few stories centralizing around different fetishes. Unless I don't. Hope you enjoy, feel free to contact me with critique.))
Boredom. More than anything else, boredom was at the forefront of Private First Class Jacob Russet's mind. Jacob was a twenty-three year old red fox in the U.F. Army. He was built with a wiry frame, and though physical training had defined his muscle, he could never manage to build any bulk onto his 5'7" frame. The fox's unit was stationed in the middle of the desert, hundreds of miles from anything imprtant, and carefully performing surveilance on a group of enemy rocks and boulders about a mile and a half away.
"Never let it be said, Private Russet, that all training missions can be fun, " This from Seargent Draft, the aptly named Clydesdale had been drafted into the end of a war on a six year contract, five years ago, "If you manage to squeeze so much as a thimbleful of enjoyment out of this mess without violating our orders and I'll polish your boots till the day I throw my re-up papers in the battalion recruiter's face."
Jacob didn't bother to comment. This desert was only fit to live in at night, and even then it dropped to too cold around 01:00 and they'd all be shivering till sunrise. After sunrise it'd be time to hide in the relative shade of the tents and trenches. It wouldn't have been all that bad if it were a normal training exercise, but the visiting Brigadier General had done more than poke his nose everywhere he shouldn't have since arriving. He'd also demanded that it be treated as a covert surveillance mission, and ordered the most ridiculous measures imaginable to avoid discovery by their imaginary foe.
Nobody could argue about not using the generators, or even the battery powered equipment. Radio silence was perfectly understandable too. But everyone agreed that making two-man teams "battle-buddies" for absolutely every activity, "to include sleeping, eating, latrine visits, and conjugal visits, not that you'll get any." Damned officers. But speaking of the latrine...
"Hey Sergeant, bathroom break," Draft just grumbled and hunkered down further into the trench. Shorter fur meant getting cold earlier at night.
"Go to hell, Russet, it's freezing outside this hole. I ain't babysittin' your ass all the way to the potty hole. Hold it, or don't get caught."
Being paired up with the lazy draftee did nothing at all to keep Jacob in a good mood. It was all he could do to keep from snarling something that would get him into a fight before he grabbed his rifle and crawled out of the warm hole in the ground and into the crisp desert air. A quick check to make sure no one was looking eased his worries, and then the fox made his way quickly to the two large holes in the ground that were the latrines for this section of the camp.
The General had ordered separate holes for urine and feces, claiming it was easier to conceal them separetely. He'd given some kind of explanation to back it up, but Private Russet paid attention to lectures like rocks swim. The result, though, was one hole with a steel grating over it, to accomodate female soldiers, and one hole with two planks across it, sturdy planks, thank god, to walk out over the pit before squatting. It was to the grating that Jacob walked, leaning his rifle against one of the very few rocks and unbuttoning his fly. He'd been holding it for hours, and the relief was about as much fun as he'd had in days.
"Where the HELL is your battle buddy, soldier?" at the same instant the muzzle of a rifle jabbed into the small of Jacob's back, "And why do I have your weapon?" Fear trilled from ears to tailtip through the fox, adrenaline dumping into his system at a high rate of speed. Caught, so very caught, and in deep shit. The voice seemed incredibly familiar, but now was not the time to stop and think. This was the Army, after all, and that meant it was time to bullshit like his life depended on it.
"My buddy complained of inner ear problems and feared he would fall in if he accompanied me before he went to sick call in the morning." He silently prayed that whoever it was, they'd fall for it, or at least not care enough to call him on it.
"Inner ear trouble, huh? That sounds serious." Relief began to surface, he was going to get away with it, "But that's still grounds for an article 15. Someone should tell your battle buddy." Jacob nodded quickly, his gut sinking again once he realized he wasn't getting away with anything at all, but...
"Oh Jesus!" Realization slammed into Jacob like a ton of bricks. That voice belonged to a silver star, "Sir, I'll tell him as soon as I get back, sir!" Another prod with the rifle froze the list of excuses on the tip of his tongue, and the blood in his veins.
"Private, you're going to show your buddy that he doesn't want an article 15 by being an example, aren't you?" An article 15? Damnit, they were gonna take his pay.
"Sir, yes sir!" He heard the general lean his rifle back against the rock.
"The way I see it, you have two choices that would meet this objective. Are you tracking, soldier?" Jacob nodded, even though he didn't understand.
"You can either take an article 15 and show your buddy how badly he wants to avoid them..." There was a pause, for effect. If Jacob hadn't already had his fly open, he would have pissed his pants, "Or, you can hop down that hole and show him that falling in isn't so bad if it means you get to keep your pay." The suggestion was so ludicrous that Jacob's mind didn't process it for a full fifteen seconds.
"S-sir?" He turned around, not really an about face, he was too flustered to even think about it. Even in the dim light, the general was definately leering at him, the high amount of shadow and the wicked look contrived to contort the cougar's face into something terrifying and feral.
"It's very simple, private. You march back to the office with me and we put this down on paper and take your spending money for a few months, or you shut your mouth and do everything I say without so much as a sneeze by way of complaint. You do, and we can both forget this whole thing." Something didn't seem right at all about the suggestion, but Jacob had been trained to fear the dreaded article 15, and to love his money, what little the Army gave him, anyway.
"Sir, yes sir." He watched the dusty tan furred face take on a look of amusement. The general folded his arms.
"Good choice, private. Now move that grate." He gestured to the urine-pit, and Jacob's sense of horror was overridden only by basic military instinct to follow orders. His mind was racing, how could he get out of this, this couldn't really be happening, could it? The grate was heavier than it looked, and it took two tries to get a good enough grip to move it aside until a person could easily fit in the hole.
"Right, now take off your uniform and put it under this rock. Wouldn't want you to get it all wet or have it blow away while you're down there."
Swallowing hard both physically and on his pride, Jacob did as he was told. The cold air made his nipples perk, two pink circles in a sea of creamy white fur that ran from his lower jaw to his balls, even under his tail. His sheathe was tight from the cold, but that didn't keep its contents from catching the general's eye.
"Private! Can you tell me why your prick is staring at me like it wants to fight?" The general stood very close now, enough that Jacob could feel his body heat radiating off. Unfortunately for him, it felt good. The Army had gotten over "Don't ask, Don't tell" years ago, and these days the policy was more akin to "Shut up about it because nobody cares." Still, Jacob didn't approve of his own attraction to men, or to being told what to do.
"Sir...I...That is..." He was cut off.
"Just shut up and get your queer ass down that hole. Keep the fuck quiet and don't splash any out." Jacob scrambled over to the hole and began lowering himself in, feet first, although his chest was at ground level before his feet found the surface of the pool, still somehow warm from the heat of the day. He supressed a shudder as he slipped in, all the way up to his navel before his feet touched the bottom of the hole. There he stood and waited while the general did... something. He could hear him doing something. Then the light of the night sky was blocked out and Jacob was forced to step back as the general slipped down into the hole too!
The moonlight briefly caught a well-toned ass and a lashing feline tail before Jacob suddenly found himself pinned against the wall and being reminded by the hand at his throat that feline claws often have to be registered as deadly weapons.
"Now you're gonna keep your damned mouth shut, private, and you're gonna like learning this lesson as much as I like teaching it. Otherwise they'll never find your damned body, you hear me?"
Jacob nodded quickly, eyes wide and heart pounding. His bladder again tried to empty itself.
"Good." With no warning at all, a fist slammed into the Fox's belly, forcing the wind from him and doubling him over. He was grabbed by his neckfur and shoved forward and down until his head went beneath the surface, squeezing his eyes shut too late, they burned from the stinking piss he now swam in. Thankfully he was pulled up again so that he could draw coughing, spluttering breath. The bitter taste of urine began to creep into his mouth, and he lost his balance as he was grabbed roughly by the hips. Realization finally dawning as to the general's true purpose in all this when a hard shaft rubbed between his asscheeks. He whimpered and tried not to stay calm, even with his eyes streamng tears from the burning, and the sure and certain knowledge that a stranger was about to get VERY personal against his will. "Deep breath, now."
Cruel laughter from the cougar, and he was forced under the surface again, at least he'd been able to prepare this time, holding his breath and keeping his eyes tightly shut, waiting to be let up. He could feel the general's claws digging into his fur as his barbed prick sought entry, and as his lungs began to burn for want of air he wondered how long he would be held.
But that question left his mind when the general found his mark, and shoved suddenly, painfully, and completely into Jacob's hot rectal tunnel, nearly tearing his tense anal ring with the forceful and unexpected entry, dry except for the urine in which they were steeping. Without thinking, he opened his mouth to scream. He struggled and fought to pull away, to get air, but the cougar was stronger, and held him under until the bubbles slowed and the fox weakened, then pulling him up, coughing and choking and spitting and gagging.
Without even waiting for him to recover, the feline pulled his cock about halfway out, eliciting a whimper as the barbs dragged along Jacob's insides. The fox's knees buckled and he hung in the General's grasp. He eventually found a way to brace himself against the wall with his arms after the general's first few thrusts pushed him under again. Not drowning made the experience a little more bearable, and as the cat abused his asshole insearch of pleasure, he seemed to forget about punnishing the fox. Jacob wished he could forget about his own raging hardon, or the feel of hot cock burrowing into him again and again, the sensation as it pulled away so intense that his whole body shook each time.
After five minutes, it had stopped hurting. That it felt good would be an exaggeration, however. It felt awful, he was being used like a sex toy in a pit filled with his co-worker's piss. But he found he couldnt' stop bucking back against those thrusts. His mouth hanging open to keep from tasting the urine now closed to stifle moans. It felt terrible, but he needed it. He hated himself for enjoying it, for the pleased groan he gave when the general bit down on the scruff of his neck and started stroking his chest, and for the feeling of intense pleasure when that feline paw found his cock beneath the surface of the pool and started stroking in rythm. The tears that streamed down his face no longer had anything to do with the burning piss, and had everything to do with shame and revulsion.
Twice while he was taken, someone came to use the latrine. The first time it had been a female he didn't know, who removed her pants and squatted, and without knowing it delivered a hot stream directly onto Jacob's forehead, stinging his eyes again. The general said nothing, but once she left he'd increased his pace.
The second time, it had been Sergeant Draft, and as he stood there, muttering about the cold and unleashing his beautiful horseflesh, the general pulled Jacob's head until it forced his mouth open, and held him there. When Draft relieved himself, Jacob's open mouth was forced under the stream and he was commanded to swallow as the vile liquid filled his muzzle once, twice, and eventually four times before the horse had finished. Jacob felt sick, and dizzy, but most of all he felt the need to come, and end this ordeal.
((What, no orgasm? Not even an ending? That's right, folks, this isn't that kind of story. Feel free to dream up the rest, I already did and I sure like my version of the ending.))