Kevvy
#22 of KFB
"Kevvy" (c) 2010 Kevin Foxboy, all rights reserved. A bit mixed up, musings about Kevin's continuing education.
. Kevin Foxboy's Neighborhood - 2010-0719.0615
. . (c) 2010 Kevin Foxboy, all rights reserved.
The forty-something woman in the family restaurant looked up curiously as the lithe, athletic woman in her late twenties came in, but what surprised the older woman was the fact the newcomer was leading a human-sized but animal-headed furry... thing... on its leash.
"Hello, there. I'm Alysa. Benton." She'd noticed the older woman nervously glancing over at Alysa's pet and introduced herself. "Carrie Williams", the older woman responded, shaking Alysa's free hand. The beast had dropped to its knees as soon as its... owner... stopped walking.
The DNA-hybrid program was still new enough people hadn't gotten used to them. A company in Butte Montana USA had started a medical branch, making blood plasma and insulin using recombinant DNA. A completely synthetic approach, it took over from the previous method, using /Escherichia coli/ bacteria as biological factories, because the bugs had mutated into something dangerous.
The fledgling Biological Synthetics Incorporated had reused its profits for further research. While Ventner and the government were trying to map the whole human genome last decade (and century, and -- gulp -- millennium) BSI Medical just made blood and bone cells, then whole organs. Still synthetic but fully organic, they weren't rejected, had a few weeks waiting list as they were 'quick-grown' and completely rewrote the medical profession.
No more black market for organs, no more unwilling donor nightmares. No more extensive tests or exploratory surgery to find out what went wrong with natural organs, just BSI Recom-based tests to see what organ to replace. The synthetic ones were immune to most existing diseases, and odd enough the diseases couldn't figure out how to attack them before dying out!
People were still idiot enough to drive while distracted or try to 'prove their manhood' with stunts Evel Knievel wouldn't think of, so BSI Med started making nerves and brain tissue. Not memory, that was lost; but Alzheimer's and any mental illness caused by damage went the way of the dodo. Extinct, left on the sands of time by BSI.
Then BSI put all the organs together in synthetic bodies! Mindless but utterly obedient, sci-fi's worst nightmares realised. There was a big backlash, bombing and burning of BSI's labs, until all the 'zombies' were rounded up and destroyed. The hospitals screamed because they needed the blood and organs to put foolish humans back together. So BSI Version Two was born, and mixed human with animal DNA to make made-to-order chimerae.
~ ~ ~
They were still idiots. Bodies were easy, brains were just neurons, but minds, they're hard! How does a bunch of unconnected cells make patterns even in a dumb animal, so it can run away from predators or chase prey? BioSyn Labs made idiot laborers and security guards, just a little brighter than guard dogs. But they never went on strike or complained. And they were totally obedient.
Alysa Benton worked for a tech firm that reverse-engineered existing tech and made it better. That way it was enough different to avoid lawsuits, and originators didn't mind when they realised it was just another step they could incorporate in their own next invention. One of her clients was BioSyn Labs, and she talked with them enough to make improvements in their DNA synthesizers and control computers.
Hot!Tech replaced the cutting-edge tech with unknown-cutting Kawa Suki AutoSynths and HTOS MUMT computers that took advantage of the structural similarities in groups of living animals. So now they could use extinct DNA to modify a creature and make a new dodo, quagga, thylacine.
Who cared if human idiocy had made a species go extinct? BioSyn magic could undo it, make a whole species live again. Frankenstein's monster? Ha! Mary Shelley was passe, the new Modern Prometheus was born. So scientists playing God wanted the next challenge. They added limited minds to chimera, made human-sized bipedal animals as servants.
Why not? Humans domesticated animals, taught em to find lost people, help police find evidence. BioSyn Labs made chimerae stronger and faster than humans, BSI Medical needed hospital help, so chimerae became orderlies and turned bed-ridden patients over. Too dumb to get bored or frustrated.
The patients went home, but still needed help. BioSyn's beasts became household servants. Brighter than dogs, more submissive than housecleaning services. Better than anything else, said BioSyn Kennels.
~ ~ ~
Alysa Benton had read through BioSyn Kennel's product catalog and picked out a fox-human DNA mix. Foxes were common first personal servants because they were big enough to do medium-duty housework but small enough to command, er, other places. She went back six months later to see her product in the artificial womb and imprint its mind.
It was annoying to have to wait, but they couldn't teach the beast's mind as fast as they made bodies. It would take eighteen months to train the idiot to walk, obey, talk, and do housework. And serve its owners, uh, personal wishes too. Alysa had to wait two years from when she first ordered R4G2/KvN47 until he was delivered to her door in a travel cage, to begin his life of slavery to her.
Back to the restaurant, remember? It was a social shift to allow DNA mixes in public places. They took care of their own hygiene and were quite acceptable to local health codes, but it was still a surprise to see a lone woman across a table from a fox head as her property knelt on the floor.
Alysa had owned Kevin for a year now and the foxboy was as old as a human at seventeen. He'd learned to wear clothes and drive a car for his mistress, as well as serve her personal and household needs. As Alysa and Carrie talked, the beast stayed motionless on his furry knees. It wasn't his place to listen to humans, and Alysa would raise her voice to get his attention when she wanted him.
In a more expensive restaurant, the valets and doormen might be property. The head waitstaff and chefs would be human, but busboys and dishwashers were furry DNA mixes. There were places where most of the staff were slave property, and would offer themselves as, um, entertainment. In the decades to follow, low-economic-group people who'd had minimum-wage jobs would cede them to unpaid slaves, and become their supervisors and masters.
Slaves weren't bright enough to be unhappy at doing menial tasks. They were made that way on purpose; they had trouble with multisyllable words except 'submission' or 'obedience'. They'd get confused if you didn't talk simply. Not baby-talk, but you'd have to remember to call something 'fake' instead of 'artificial'.
~ ~ ~
Actually, BioSyn Labs had made beasts progressively more intelligent, just to understand what humans commanded. The early ones had trouble learning anything outside the closed environment of their kennels. Kevin was one of the brightest slaves, and foxes were pretty sly anyway, but he still forgot what 'recombinant DNA' meant and thought of himself as a 'seed mix'. And he didn't know the word 'understand', you'd have to say 'Kevin, do you know what I mean?"
Some people got frustrated easily. Look, if it's just a dumb dog, you don't expect it to answer you or know your words. Sure, a Hungarian Puli sheepdog knows over a hundred words, but it's all having to do with herding sheep, not a philosophical discussion. If you hear a DNA mix ask you "Are you ready to order, Master?" as it stands on two feet, you might try to converse with it.
But unless you ask about something on the menu, it's too dumb to know. Even if you ask about food, it's too dumb to make recom- mendations, or even know the word. "Is the fois gras good tonight?" is a complete waste of your time, and you'll just get frustrated by the dumb expression on its muzzle. It's better to pay extra for a human.
Alysa and Carrie talked over dinner, and Alysa remembered to order kibble for Kevin. When the Badger she'd called over to bring it asked if she wished water for herself or a bowl for the beast, she told it (well he, but who cared?) to run a little tap water in. The beast bowed politely, replied "Yes, Mistress" and backed away. She'd never know he'd had to ask his human supervisor what she meant.
When the Badger returned, he asked Alysa if she wished her beast fed. She said yes, so he bowed then knelt to place it for Kevin. Both slaves knew not to speak without a direct order, but Kevin's quick grin gave the Badger his thanks as he thanked his owner. Kevin knelt to eat his kibble, keeping his bushy tail down and his front paws folded, palms off the floor. He enjoyed the gravy from the kibble, and waved his tail to show he was happy.
~ ~ ~
Of course, every beast there had a better sense of smell than humans, and they were owned by the restaurant to sniff out bad food before it got to humans. Health inspectors liked the beasts for keeping the vermin down, although rat breath on the cat mixes was unpleasant. And bug breath, yuck! But the beasts cleaned themselves and kept the kitchens and pantries much cleaner.
Exterminators had rather a tough time, till they figured out they could beat the damn tree-huggers by using 'totally green and bio- safe vermin elimination techniques', i.e. buy a few cat mixes and let 'm do what came natural. These mixes didn't need much intelligence, they were barely above dumb animal cats, which mouse and rat all by themselves, just leave em the heck alone.
But mixes eat and clean up too. Artificial life-forms don't have civil rights, not even animal-abuse protection; and BioSyn sold a lot of cleaners so the price went down. A pet gets sick, it's an expensive trip to the vet; a slave, eh. If it dies, in the dumpster, another is just a business expense. Several R3 cleaners, too dumb to know anything else, maybe an R4G1 easier to talk to, tells the others.
You thought /Jurassic Park/ velociraptors were dangerous pack hunters? These would obey humans, stop when ordered! But keep killing rodents, even trace where they came in, wait for more food. Heck, they'd even bait 'em, eat bait themselves if nothing came to take it.
So it wasn't a shock to know the restaurant owned mixes, or let 'em come inside; but a 1.5 meter tall, slightly bent-legged fox- faced one was a bit new. Carrie had thought about owning someone, er some*thing* but wasn't sure. Now she liked seeing, uh, Kevin on his furry knees, so submissive but stronger and faster than humans. A powerful beast, totally obedient.
Kevin Foxboy Four Seven enjoyed being a display for his owner Alysa Benton as well as an advert for his maker BioSyn Kennels. Carrie wasn't that familiar with mixes, only talked with waitfurs to order food, so she kept expecting Kevin to say something. Of course the beast wouldn't speak unless ordered to or to answer a direct question.
And he wasn't bright enough to take a hint, and far too submissive to interrupt the Mistresses. Carrie's curiosity finally made her ask the fox to explain himself, and only got a puzzled muzzle in return. She was about to get angry at Kev when Alysa laid a friendly hand on hers.
Alysa ran through more specific, simple questions with her property. Kevin was BioSyn's fourth level, second generation DNA mix, hence R4G2; and the fourteenth variant of their eleventh DNA line, hence KvN. He was the 47th 'K' mix, hence R4G2/KvN47, and the woman guiding the seed mix formula wasn't very imaginative, hence Kevin.
Trained to serve in the home, and to please men or women on the floor and in the bed, Kevin was little more than a trained dog. Sure, dogs are quite useful to humans, and chimerae in general were useful servants. But the annoying thing is, they do so well, even though they're made 'mentally challenged' to keep them submissive. Some insecure humans find that insulting.
~ ~ ~
The foxboy walked nearly upright and talked simple English; he'd learned the complexity of reading, driving a car, and flying a small aircraft. Once he learned, he wasn't bright enough to get bored, so he did it better than humans. That's what was so annoying: chimerae have better eyesight, hearing, taste, and smell than humans, and react faster too -- BioSyn says the products are better, stronger, faster.
But although they see movement better, and work in dimmer light and farther away, they're not so good close up (say two muzzle-lengths) or with little color differences. Sure Kev saw color, but had trouble telling the difference between small hue and saturation differences. Keep it to black, green, blue, blue-green, red, blue-red, brown, white. Oh, and yellow or purple, but he'd have to think to remember what cyan and magenta mean. Forget chartreuse!
It's an interesting psychological study (not that any R4 could pronounce it!) that Kev learned simple things fairly easily. The whip taught him that in the kennels growing up. They didn't have to make sense to the young foxboy. As he grew up he figured out he could do some new things that were like what he knew, and he could put actions together to get a less-simple result.
Sit up. Hold your front paws out. Grip the handles. Move them gently. See how the car moves? Slow, fast; slow, stop. See the red thing? It's a square with corners cut off, you don't need the word 'octagon'. It means Stop! at the post. Check for other cars. Look carefully, see them move.
Kevin was a carnivore, used to judging prey's movement and distance to pounce and feed. Sure cars were faster, but Kev reacted quicker than humans, only needed to know they meant danger when they got too close. Kevin knew very clearly to stay away from the rough polar bear guards in the kennels, and cars were just bigger things to stay away from. He didn't need to know Lexus or BMW.
He wasn't bright enough to get bored, so his attention never wavered. He had trouble listening and driving, so Alysa didn't try to converse with her beast, just waited for a pause then directed him. As I said, he was a very good driver for his owner. The laws don't say what species you have to be to get a licence; it'd actually been only two years since Kevin's DNA was mixed and he grew in the artificial womb, 18 months since he was 'born', but his DNA was tweaked so he'd keep the rapid body development and he'd been as old as a human at 16.
He learned to drive a car from hearing his owner read the book, and he knew what numbers looked like. At first he needed a human to read street signs, but he learned that too. He passed his drivers' test first time, knew the laws he'd been told and of course never knew what being aggressive meant. He was always very polite and obedient. He was a good foxboy. He was even skilled enough to parallel-park without hitting the cones.
~ ~ ~
Kevin Foxboy enjoyed visiting the vet, even when he wasn't at the BioSyn Kennel he grew up in. A sexy vixen had taught him to obey the chains, and when she was hurt by a human who wasn't really cruel, just treated her as the dog she was and discarded her, Kev'd held her down for the vet to explore her. He enjoyed Betty Foxgirl.
Near his owner's home the vet handled dumb animals as well as the newer chimerae. It was enjoyable to be able to talk with beasts, usually vets have to be more skilled to work on animals who can't say how they feel. You have to feel them yourself.
Kevin had grown up using cage straw for his body needs, and got used to the smell. It was just part of life, like paws and tail. He was aware of the smell of the vet's kennel, and disliked the tang of the medicines, but he submitted. Sure injections hurt, but he'd been whipped to make him obey, and that was worse. The vets always told him what they were doing, so he could relax and be a slave.
Alysa Benton worked for a tech firm, and didn't have time to babysit a pet. One of the things about being a chimera was Kevin took care of himself, cleaned her home, cooked her meals. And served in the bedroom. He was almost as big as she was, big enough to be a useful house servant, small enough to stay on his knees.
At the local vet, Kevin was able to help with the other chimerae and dumb animals. His furry body seemed to comfort them, they scented his animal parts and he had a kind of low-minded rapport. He saw the human pushing at a desk, and begged to know what she was doing. The vet was talking about his care, so he wasn't scared to ask.
She seemed a bit surprised; she worked with animals around but wasn't used to talking with them. But she wasn't mad Kevin interrupted her, and told him the vet records were kept on a computer. Kevin was quite interested, and begged his owner to let him learn.
~ ~ ~
Kevin had been made to be afraid of anything new, to keep him low and submissive. This was a new trait, and Alysa had wanted a beast to help her, so she was pleased. She gave her permission to the fox, who wore only the fur and leather cuffs of his slavery. He saw the large set of buttons with marks and was getting afraid of new, but the vet had finished with Kevin for the day and the record tech was willing to talk.
Kevin saw the marks and took a few seconds before it dawned on him they were the ones he'd learned. Letters, numbers, and -- what? She giggled and said a new word, symbols. Each button had a meaning, and told the computer what to put down in the vet records.
It was a Hot!Tech machine, as most business computers were nowadays. Workers were adult, so they used words; only two-year-olds have to point to pictures and grunt. Most of the data -- that is, raw facts -- were text anyway. Owner name, pet, date, service, test result.
When it became information -- organized data you could draw conclusions from -- it was sometimes useful to make tables and charts. It was still just text, with markers when a sketch would help. That would appear on the second LED screen, so you could see the facts and the sketch. But don't just show a picture, say what it means!
Even when you take an X-Ray, you don't really need all that information. You just need, "aha! there's a small fracture, right there" or "see that smudge? that needs a closer look". You don't need to see the fracture to treat it, just know it exists. Wherever it is, you immobilise the area and let nature heal. Of course with BioSyn medicine, you help nature a lot; recom DNA tests identify illness, and recom white cells gobble it up.
And why bother with medical jargon? What does 'Ulnar fracture' tell you that 'lower arm break' doesn't? Or 'Phalangic Phlebitis' say different from 'finger swelling'? C'mon, people, don't make it more difficult than it has to be!
~ ~ ~
When you draw conclusions -- turn organized facts into actions -- you create knowledge. Facts are useless unless organised, and it's a bit OCD to just make structure, but knowledge is power. Who cares that dozens of things just exist? How is it useful to put them in boxes? That's not a goal in itself, it's just a means to an end.
DNA has three billion codes, but it's just so much goo until you realise it's arranged in groups, call em genes then chromosomes. That's just so much busy-work till you figger out some diseases are caused by little differences in DNA. Now you're talking knowledge!
Now you can make little bio-docs, carry copies of non-disease DNA into cells. When they split in a few days, cut out the old DNA, stick the new DNA in -- et voila! You've just cured diabetes, or anemia! How's that for medical power, hmm?
Yeah, I know there's a problem -- ethics. Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. But remember Murphy's Law? It's been said that Murphy was an optimist! Even when you're sure nothing can go wrong, something will go wrong.
No matter how much care you take to idiot-proof some process, some enterprising idiot will find a way to mess things up, get bad data in, and the machine can't tell the difference, so bad info gets used, organised, and wrong conclusions are made. Start with wrong info, perfect logic leads to perfectly logical wrong answers!
~ ~ ~
It was these contrasting needs which chimera slaves pointed out so clearly. So annoyingly to some people, and labor unions. R4G2 slaves were bright enough to learn the rote work, and as long as you stated the rules clearly, they'd follow.
They were too dumb to get bored or try to do something different just for variety. That meant a human would have to step in, because mixes didn't have 'common sense' either. Common for whom, huh human? Mixes have animal sense, and human training. Sometimes they conflict.
What you or I would find 'obvious' is often cultural, and it's different elsewhere. 'Everybody knows' to drive on the right -- unless you're in Britain or a former colony. 'Everybody knows' brides wear white -- umless you're in Asia, where white is the color of death.
Car companies have similar cultural and language blindspots. When Chevrolet tried to export their Chevy Nova -- quite popular in the United States -- they couldn't figure out why it wouldn't sell in Mexico. Finally someone pointed out they speak a version of Spanish there, and in Spanish, 'no va' means "doesn't go" -- not good for a car.
Kevin had learned simple American English -- since he was made in America for an American. Other chimerae were brought up in different kennels, and their minds were shocked to learn Spanish, or French, or Italian.
In case you didn't know, the Catholic Church bought some chimerae watchdogs -- despite them not mentioned in their holy writing. Some of the Cardinals in the Vatican have chimera kitty maids, or birds or lizards -- and they're beast enough to keep the men's chastity vows.
Which brings me back to restaurants having chimerae, and Kevvyboy being shown to patrons. He'd been part of the Biological Synthetics Kennels shows at various cosplay and furry conventions, and some people got upset that chimerae don't wear clothes -- neither does your family dog, but she's not standing up and offering... er, to fetch food and drink.
Kevvy and a few Mousegirls had fetched more, but email me for details.
~ ~ ~
Kevin had learned to read street signs and grocery labels, at least what food it was. He had trouble with all the big words that said what was in food and what it gave people. He was happier with his slave kibble and Vulpine add-food packs. He didn't know why Humans would *want* to have to make choices.
He'd helped the local Vet with rote typing of records. He didn't have to know what the big medical words meant, just type what the notes said. Alysa Benton was willing to rent him out in lieu of paying vet bills, so it helped them both.
Nadine Berring was less thrilled about the smelly beast taking over. In case you didn't know, chimerae tend to have beasty bodies, and although they take showers using fur soap, all that underarm and groin fur means they don't use deodorant.
And animal foxes smell. Oh, the caudal gland is said to smell like violets, but it's not something you'd want all over the house. If a beast gets hot doing labor, it pants, even the non-canids.
Kevin had fox odor. Well, people have Human odor, and Kev was a beast, so he used scent more than sight to pick out which was which. Except a few, like the kennel vets, and Betty Foxgirl.
And of course his Owner, Alysa Benton of Butte, Montana, USA.
Nadine didn't mind Kevin doing the transcribing. After all, it was dull and boring, precisely the things people bought slave beasts for. She had him help her, she could sort of read the vets' handwriting. Something Kev had such trouble with.
It gave her a thrill, so there you dumb beast, when Kevin had to whimper and beg for her help. Even when she told him what the handwriting said, he had trouble the next time. It was satisfying to know there was still a place for good ol' Mark One Mod Zero, original-recipe humans.
One of the younger Vets was a Furson, a Mark One Mod One. Bill Harson had Gone Otter, and had some American River Otter DNA added to his natural Southern California heritage. He seemed not to mind the smell so much, even before he had BioSynLabs put in the rounded ears and sharper teeth, like a carnivore.
And the longer muzzle, nostrils and jaws. Heck, he liked the look on the chimerae as well as the dumb dogs at Merik's Vet Services, so he took his summer vacation in Butte. He especially liked the luxurious silky brown fur.
~ ~ ~
Nadine was a bit upset when Bill came back from vacation furry. She was human and proud of it. She wasn't a vet herself, she wanted to work with other humans. She was willing to help with the dumb beasts, and OK the practice was big enough to have three regular vets, and four part-timers.
She was upset at first to have to work with a fox chimera. The fox odor was stronger than an animal fox, because Kev was short-human size. He was skinny and muscular, and went around in just the fur most of the time. His owner wanted his fox bits covered when he wasn't pleasing her at home, so he wore rough unbleached men's bikini briefs that hid him decently.
But the male slave's bulges showed, and he'd grown up in the kennel unclothed so he knew it was normal. He wore the usual two-inch-wide bought slave's leather collar, wrist and ankle cuffs, with all the sexy metal D-rings so humans could tie him to things and feel him up. That also was totally normal.
Bill of course had been born fully human, but now his Otter DNA made him a Mod One. The Furson was still getting used to the new body, and spoke with Kev about fur grooming. Kev had grown up around different species of canids, and learned about felids, mustelids and rodents soon after.
Biological Synthetics Kennels lets lots of species play and learn together, to get the beasts to stop shaking from the New. Kev had trained with an older Gray Fox vixen, and rubbed her up a lot when she was sick with fear when her buyer was killed.
He trained with a Ratgirl and a guy Otter when it was time to learn about hugging and then sex. The Kennels trained domestic and pleasure slaves after all. Most of the R4G1 domestics were too dumb to have sex drive, but they could learn to please. Kevin and Joz were R4G2 pleasure chimerae and learned ways to please men and women, in the home, on the floor, and in the bed.
Bill was not the first Furson to command Kev, so the fox didn't shake at obeying someone with fur. Nadine disapproved, because they were both guys, and she wanted to test Kev's training herself. As long as she didn't moan while sitting at her desk with Kev on his knees or lower, it wasn't a social problem.
Now I don't know if Bill Harson thought about the fur care issue when he Went Otter, or the fact the shower at home had become fun but restrictive. What his new DNA wanted was bigger, not just a bathtub but a swimming pool, and sure the techs at BSI Labs had warned him about new urges, but there'd been a lot of legal junk to read and sign.
Kevin shook a bit when a Master asked him about fur care, but Bill was firm so the fox could relax and Be a Slave. They talked about Bill's new senses, which Kev knew were normal but Bill had to adapt to. Were the office lights always so bright, and did they always blink bright and dim? Kev grew up seeing flicker when he moved his head and it had been a surprise humans didn't.
Was it always so damn noisy indoors?! No wonder the animals were upset, even when ordinary humans thought they were being quiet. The Otter had to adjust to seeing distant small objects clearly and not focusing close in. And colours! All of a sudden so vibrant, all of them! He just didn't see fine differences anymore.
And then the smells! Humans disliked animal smells, preferring chemical ones like disinfectants. Fursons' enhanced olfactory skills shocked them, took a lot of getting used to. Did the normal vet disinfectant always have that unpleasant tang to it?! Sheesh, he could even smell the difference between rubbing alcohol at 70%, and medical at 90%, something his M1M0 vet colleagues couldn't!
Then there was the feel of clothing on his new fur. Bill had never had such trouble when his Otter pelt was rubbed the wrong way! Oh gosh, being... er, petted... felt so good! No wonder the cats purred, the dogs whimpered softly, the others let you do them. Kevin smiled and let the man enjoy. He knew all about being petted, and how his Mistress made him react.
~ ~ ~
One of the other things Bill still had was his human mind. Chimerae grew up with inhuman senses, and their minds developed to know what they meant. Fursons were used to dull Human senses, and his mind was still trying to adapt.
He also had trouble adapting to his new body, especially the big heavy tail. He'd been to Butte and played with the slaves' tails, because most of them were big and fluffy. Especially their tails.
But otters are semi-aquatic, and their tails are used as rudders during swimming. Fully submerged they're quite balletic despite the thick fur, on the surface you have to look forward of the wake. On shore there's the wet trail.
Bill had Gone Otter and gotten the fur, tail, and ears. He hadn't gone back for the snout or whiskers, and he asked Kev if the fox saw his own. Kev was used to being asked by now and didn't shake.
Since it was their lunch break the two furries were out back soaking in the sun. Kev was curled up on a blanket with his bushy tail on his black nose, looking a lot like a big animal, and Bill had developed quite a taste for tuna sandwiches or sushi. Kev's body was as developed as a human's at seventeen, and he was able to drive a car with a human's supervsion.
But he wasn't old enough to drink beer legally, despite the fact he'd been tested on it before leaving BioSynKennel. There were quite a number of advantages of being just a slave beast, and one was he wasn't legally a person, so no legal rights beyond being property, but no citizen responsibilities either.
It was legally a human at fault for letting Kev drive a car, or drink beer, or do what he was made for. Any R4G2 is trained to serve any gender any time, in the home, on the floor. Or in the bed. And Kev knew his duties quite well.
Kev's sexy skinny fox snout stuck out, and he could easily see it between his eyes. He couldn't focus that close, any more than humans can see their own flat noses clearly. He had to be taught that he had what he saw on other foxes.
Kev spoke with Master Furson, and he'd been a display at furry conventions so he didn't shake. Master tried to be patient even when he realised Kev's change of voice was due to the fox remembering to be a salesfur for Biological Synthetics Kennels.