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Call this a pump-primer, something to blow the sludge and buildup out of my poor underused writing glands. Or in other words, just a bit of smut that takes advantages of all the usual stereotypes you guys know and love.

Thanks to Riff for the encouragement and ideas.

Fox Trap

By Toshiro, 2008

A steady stream of bored-looking passengers filed through the departure gate in the otherwise-deserted airport, the dirty high-set windows of the aerobridge opening onto inky blackness. One passenger hung back, leaning listlessly against a pillar, rolling his shoulders as he waited for the queue to die down. Finally he joined the queue, a suit bag over his shoulder, thrusting his free paw into the pocket of his hooded top. In place of his usual business suit the wolf wore a black hoodie and trackpants for the overnight flight, the fabric dark as his fur.

The twenty-fifth such flight in as many weeks. He grumbled under his breath.

It was an awkward outfit for the angular, severe-looking black wolf, but it made great sleepwear, and before long he had squeezed into the aisle seat of the very last row of the plane. His open seatbelt was draped across his lap as he eyed the other passengers to see who might be sharing the row. He had to hide his alarm as a heavyset bovine approached, a calf pressed tight against her breast and another in tow, and exhaled with relief when she sat a few rows in front.

So he was startled by the tap on his shoulder, turning his head up. A skittish, red-furred fox stood there, dressed in what he guessed was the uniform of a school sporting team. He nodded, and stood up, letting the skinny fox-boy squeeze past. He smiled politely at the fox, the fox first shooting back a momentary look of alarm, then smiling back in that slightly shy, foxy way. He sat back down as the fox took the window seat, and looked back down the aisle. No more passengers. He sighed again, and dropped a magazine onto the free seat between him and the fox. Fastening his seatbelt, he plugged his ears with an audio player to block out the safety lecture, and flipped up the hood of his top.

He closed his eyes as the plane pulled out, and chuckled to himself at the throwaway encounter with the fox. At how the toothy smile of a wolf could come across as either a friendly smile, or a lewd and predatory leer, depending on the character of the viewer. He wasn't surprised by the fox's alarm; if anything he was used to this reaction from... submissive... characters, and used it to his advantage. For purely professional reasons, of course. Negotiating a sale, for example. He filed away the little fox's reaction in his mind as he tried to doze.

It wasn't long before his mind wandered, his body pressed back in the seat by the powerful jet acceleration. His usual thoughts of work, and home, his partner and family drifted through his mind. And as usual these were quickly replaced by more earthy thoughts. Hey, it was a peculiar quirk of his, but his fantasies were generally, shall we say, abstract. Certain scents. Certain parts of the male anatomy. The certain feel of a deep muzzle hissing warm breath against his pubic fur. The moist heat of a tight tailhole clenching behind his knot as its owner spills over into climax. But this time, a different picture was forming in his mind. The tailhole belonged to the slim red fox, barely an adult, his arms and legs awkwardly wrapped around his body as he sits in the wolf's lap, his head pulled back to bare his throat as his stubby erection spills warm, white semen into the wolf's white chestfur...

So it was in this state that he began to stir, the cabin lights slowly coming on, the wolf blinking woozily. He yawned and pulled himself into an upright position, catching his own aroused scent in the air. He shook the cobwebs out of his head, seeing the dinner trolley being set up in the corner of his eye, and grunted, smoothing out his pants and chuckling at the prominent bulge.

The fox! He tried to surreptitiously turn his head inside the hoodie towards his fellow passenger, and was almost surprised by the contrast between his overactive imagination and the peaceful reality. The fox dozed against the window, and his armrest lifted so that one leg could rest on the middle seat. Another tap on the shoulder got his attention as an officious hostess pressed a tray down towards him, the wolf politely smiling and lowering his hood before unfolding the seat table and taking the food. He obligingly unlatched the middle seat's table too, and gestured for a second tray for the fox. He ate disinterestedly, forgetting the image of the fox in his mind.

The fox slept right through the meal service, and despite the wolf's protests, another hostess took both trays, shuffling off with them into the galley. As the lights went down again, the wolf turned towards the fox, licking his teeth.

"Hey, kid." The wolf pulled out his headphones and leant towards the young fox, getting no reaction. "Kid," he repeated, reaching over and tapping the slim, red-furred thigh. His glance dropped down to where his black-clawed fingers were pressing, and suddenly the fantasy image returned to his mind. As he had slept, the fox's loose athletic shorts had ridden up, and his claws were inches away from the young fox's tight, soft-furred testicles, clearly visible under the loose fabric. His breath caught in his throat, his claws still pressed against the thick red fur covering a well-exercised, slim but muscular leg, a nearly-involuntary growl starting to build in his throat.

The wolf's mind was racing, his predatory instinct starting to rise. He imagined the fox turning to him with a shy smile, the wolf fixing him with that toothy grin, eyes hidden behind the hooded top. That fixed stare, and a nod towards the bathroom would be all he would need, the scent of his need would make the rest obvious. The fox might take a few minute to work up the courage to follow him to the galley, but once there, everything would fall into place, that scene would play out just as it did in his mind. He starts to growl out loud, imagining those tight balls resting against his abdomen.

The fox stirred and woke, eyes blinking open, his head darting around as he reacquired his bearings. His gaze finally settled on the wolf's clawed hand, and the wolf slowly pulled it back. "Uh, hey?" he stammered across to the wolf, his muzzle wrinkling a little as he looks awkwardly at the paw on this thigh. He pulled himself back around on the seat, pulling his pants back down as the wolf pulled his paw away. He pulled at his seatbelt, and stood up in the seat.

"Hey, Tosh! Tosh!" the fox bellowed over rows of formerly-sleeping passengers. "Shit, did I miss the food?" He turned to the wolf. "'Scuse me, dude," he grunted, clambering over the wolf without waiting for him to stand. "Tosh!" he kept calling, as the wolf sat back in his seat and groaned.

Fucking jocks, the wolf thought to himself, his ears burning with embarrassment. He groaned, contemplating another... he checked his watch... eight and a half hours of studiously ignoring the kid. He looked down at his crotch, the pants not doing much to hide a half-foot of erect wolfdick. He twisted around in the seat, looking back at the bathrooms. Unoccupied. Hmm, this will have to do for now, he thought. He unfastened his seatbelt and stepped into the dimly-lit aisle, taking the bathroom facing the back of the galley.

Lost in thought, he was oblivious to the tall rottweiler uncurling himself from the seat across the aisle.

* * *

The wolf sat back on the closed toilet seat, legs spread, his pants around one ankle as he started slowly rubbing himself. He groaned, tilting his head back, grimacing as he knocked his head against the curved bulkhead of the plane, but slowly and smoothly wrapping his fist around his shaft. He stroked himself, coaxing the knotted inches out of his sheath. He started to work himself harder, closing his eyes and thinking of that young fox, imagining his shorts slipping down just a little more, his paw sliding in and between those legs. He groaned, imagining his claws pressing through musk-laced fur, glancing up at the nervous young face as a single claw seeks out the indentation beneath the fox's tailbase. He'd grin, watching the fox's open-muzzled gasp when that claw teases and presses into the inexperienced youth's puckered hole, right out there in public, in the dimly lit airplane cabin.

So he was rudely shocked when cold air rushed into the tiny room, his eyes snapping open and his arms thrusting down over his crotch. The toilet door opened to the relative blackness of the galley. He was about to bark out in annoyance when the figure responsible stepped into the doorway, staring down at him from an expressionless, boxy head. The big rottie tapped on the back of the door. "Y'know, the No Smokin' sign always has a latch hidden behind," he rumbled down at him, cracking a toothy, crooked smile as he stepped into the tiny bathroom, closing and latching the door behind him.

The wolf shook his head, stupefied. "Fuck the sign..." he muttered, "What the fuck are you doing? Get out!" he growled, kicking a foot out.

"Nah, you don't wanna do that," the rottie snarled back, kicking out a boot-clad foot that pinned the wolf's foot against the wall. "I just wanna help ya out, that's all," he added, maintaining that crooked smile. He stood there, like he had every right to be there. Staring down into the wolf's eyes.

The wolf sat there, still dumbstruck, his dick flagging out in front of his crotch. "Dog, uh, sorry, you're not my type," he spat out, his gaze flicking between his erection and the dog. He was shocked, and intimidated, but... "Hey. Hey!"

The dog ignored him, unbuckling his belt and leering down at the wolf. "Y'know, I've been sittin' that kid in a different seat every time we fly out for a game," he drawled, pulling his jeans down, the tails of his ill-fitting dress shirt and a jock strap hiding his junk. But not the heavy scent of it, the unmistakable unwashed-dog smell of a sweaty rottweiler curling out into the confined space. "I'm their coach, yeah? Never seen a dude fall for it quite like you just did," he finished, flashing that grin again. "Great way to catch fags like you though, y'gotta admit."

The wolf contemplated calling out, but what is he supposed to yell? Rape? He just wants to get back to his seat, to get this big fuck of a dog out of the way. And the way his voice kept getting lost in his throat wasn't helping either. The big male standing so close wasn't even a wolf, just a dog, and a big dumb one at that. "Guy, I'm... I'm not interested," he repeated, stopping short when that booted foot stomped down on the toilet seat beside his hip, the dog's meaty paw reaching down and grabbing the wolf by the back of the head. Before he could even react, his nostrils were pressed into the sweat-soaked jockstrap, the dog's black, humanoid shaft curled over plump balls right below the cotton mesh.

He reflected later on how quickly the musk did its work: not just a scent but a smell, a male stench that overwhelmed him despite his alarm. It's funny what being horny can do to the mind.

The dog chuckled low, feeling the change in the wolf as he drummed his fingers on the back of the smaller male's head. He didn't waste any more time, curling his thumbs into the waistband of his jock and dragging it down over his swollen, uncut cock, the fleshy organ uncurling up against the wolf's chin. He reached down for it, pulling back on the skin, thick foreskin curling back over a slimy, mushroom-shaped head. "Wish we had time to let ya get this thing nice'n wet first, pup. But we don't. Stand up."

The wolf cringed at the word pup, but the dog was already reaching down, grabbing the wolf by the upper arm and lifting him to his feet, still wearing his top, his pants around one ankle. The two men stood, pressed together in the tiny room, the wolf silently hissing warm breath through his nostrils. "I'm... I'm not gonna get fucked," the wolf muttered as the dog presses his chest against the wall of the cubicle.

"Yeah, ya are," the dog grunted as he hocked into his paw, once, then again, and the wolf's ears flattened when he heard that slimy paw being dragged along the dog's erect shaft, the dripping head tapping his buttock. The dog's forearms were suddenly either side of his head as the dog pressed close, the slippery organ sawing against his buttocks. "Lift y'tail, boy," he grunted into the wolf's ear.

The wolf stood there, frozen, his chest lifting and falling as he tried to keep his breathing steady, his vision framed by seriously muscular, tight-furred forearms. He turned his head, rewarded with a nose-ful of underarm scent, which caught in his notrils, making him turn back, pressing the bridge of his muzzle against the wall. The dog grunted again, and kept sawing up and down his asscrack.

"Longer you wait, the less of this spit's gonna be left on the ol' pup-maker," he growled down at the wolf as his cock kept sliding slickly against the fur of his clenched buttocks, his tailfur dragging along the sticky topside as syrupy precum spilled out of the puckered overhang of foreskin. "Lotta guys learn that the hard way."

The wolf finally whimpered and arched his back, angling his firm buttocks out. The dog laughed in his ear as the spongy foreskin-clad head caught beneath the wolf's tail, and he pressed his hips forward, aiming it into the wolf without using his hands. The wolf's tail finally lifted, and flagged.

He curled his lips, his teeth clenched as he felt his tailhole spreading a little over that bulbous head, the shaft flexing back like sprung steel as those hips pushed forward. And then suddenly sinking in as his hole stretched open and gave way. He spat out a wet gasp against the bulkhead, the dog rubbing the front of his boxy muzzle along the top of his head as he sank in, blowing hot breath over his ear. He groaned as the dog pulled right out again, and again used his hips to aim his steely-hard shaft under his tail.

Again and again he angled his hips, pushed his cockhead into the wolf, then pulled it out again, each insertion pushing hard against the wolf's prostate, making his dick flag up against the wall. When the thrusts started to make lewd wet sounds as the dogcock popped in and out, the rottie grunted again and thrust deep, his arms sliding down the wall and grabbing the wolf's wrists.

"Just think of the kid, wolf," the dog whispered into the wolf's ear as he thrusted in and out of his ass. "I know what you were thinkin'. Heh, I should know, I've done enough of 'em," he drawled, chuckling as he fucks the wolf with long, slow strokes, the shaft twitching inside the wolf as it stretched him out, long and deep.

"Filthy old fuck," the wolf snarled back, huffing against the wall through gritted teeth as he was used by the dog. "How old are they, anyway?"

"Old enough. Heh, don't worry 'bout it, I make the little fucks show ID, even sign a fuck'n consent form when I take them on these, uh, trips." He thrust harder, eager to blow a load inside the wolf.

"So I'm just gettin' you started? Fuckin' pervert." The wolf cringed and fell silent as the dog pressed his muzzle against his ear, a long tongue licking it out as the rottie started an urgent wet growl, dragging his whole shaft in and out, his balls slapping against the wolf's upturned bottom.

The dog muffled himself by clamping his muzzle around the wolf's ear, biting down, hissing and groaning as his cock spurted and pulsed inside the wolf, pulling right back until the swollen, slippery head is just spilling seed against the wolf's stretched tailhole, then sinking balls deep to finish unloading.

He growled with satisfaction, releasing the wolf's paws, and reaching down to smack his rear. "Yup. You got it. Just primin' the ol' pump," he snarled, unceremoniously dragging his cock out and smearing it against the wolf's thigh. He pulled up his jeans, stuffing himself back in his jock. Before buckling up, the wolf's paw slid roughly under the panting wolf's tail, then pushed it up to the wolf's muzzle to drag it across his face. The wolf grimaced, pulling his face away as the dog opened the door, and stepped out of the toilet.

The wolf swung the door shut and stood there for a moment, a wet mess dribbling from his cock down the wall. He turned awkwardly, sitting heavily on the toilet seat. He pressed his paw down between his legs and began urgently masturbating, his face contorted with need and humiliation, when the seatbelt light chimed on.

The public address crackled on. "This is the cabin supervisor speaking. We may be entering some turbulent airspace over the next half hour, so could all passengers please immediately return to their seats, return their chairs to the upright position..." Before the announcement had even finished, a hostess was tapping impatiently on the back of the bathroom door.

The wolf groaned, dropping his needy shaft, and wincing as he fumbled around for his clothes. He pulled up his pants, dragged his top back down and unlatched the door, the hostess not even hanging around to make sure he was going back to his seat.

He sat back in his seat, his skin burning. Turning to his right he saw the fox-boy's seat empty, and as he turned back the fox stood there, waiting to get back in. He stood up, grimacing as he felt a warm wetness seeping into the back of his pants, the dog's semen leaking into the fur under his tail. As the boy pushed past him he was intensely aware of the smell of the dog all over him, his ear twitching as he remembered that boxy muzzle biting down, a funky smear of cum still gluing down his ruffled facefur. Looking down at his crotch, he saw precum soaking through the tented fabric, and he pulled his top down to cover himself. With the boy back in his seat, he sat back down, and turned towards him. The fox was grinning, the same predatory leer he imagined he had flashed the boy when he first saw him. The image stuck in his mind. He flipped up the hood of his top, breathing deeply, and turned to his left, across the aisle.

The dog sat there, grinning toothily at him, stretched out across all three seats. He scratched his crotch and winked. He made a show of looking both ways before curling himself forward, sliding his legs off the seat and bending towards the wolf.

"8 hours to go," came the voice, rumbling across the aisle.