Dread
#34 of Commissions by Gruffy
Hehhey - being sick sucks, but at least it cheers me up that I had this sitting on my computer - the next part of Jon Sanders ' commission!
...
I dreaded a bit going to the course on Thursday evening, sore and smelly as I was to begin with, but mostly because I now knew that I had a strange gay marching band otter stalker with a giggling fag hag girlfriend. I ducked into the room and sought out my resuscitation group without complaints this time (because apparently we were supposed to stick together), in the hopes that me apparently chatting up my young meat lovers would help to deter the otter...
"HEYA, CARUTHERS!"
Oh damn...my face was painted in red under my cheek furs, not a nice feeling at all, especially since he'd attacked me from behind which meant that he'd seen my ass planted over my legs as I sat on my haunches.
"Yeah?" I grunted.
"Hey, I didn't introduce myself yesterday, and I already know you" the waggy-tailed otter chuckled, "the name's Jon."
He put out a paw, this little girly thing...and I suppose there was nothing else I could do but to accept a pawshake from the band fur...and my paw was so big, as I guessed, that his disappeared completely inside it.
"Alright, Jon," I said, "guess you know I'm Andy."
"Oh yes, Page told me," he winked as he pulled that sneaky paw out of mine, "catch ya later!"
Page...Page...ugh, was she a cheerleader, too? The wolf girl didn't really look like one...and I'd seen them often enough on the field...soooo maybe she could be one, I mean, I didn't really see them as more than...furs...I mean...my boob allergy got worse from even thinking about them.
"GOOD EVENING, CLASS!" the squirrel Mrs. Pale bellowed. "TODAY WE'LL BE LEARNING ABOUT HOW TO HELP FURS WHO ARE CHOKING OR HAVE SOMETHING STUCK IN THEIR WINDPIPES!"
Oh my God...
I felt dirty and a bit violated once it was eight o'clock and everyone tried to get the hell out of the place. I'd been humped by three women, miming trying to pound their fists against my belly and trying to cause something to come out of my throat, nothing which did, of course, since it was just practice, except maybe some humiliated grunts. I'd had to do my own share of it, too, and my all-women team surely was delighted to have a big stud like me put my rough manly arms around them...eeeeeeehhh...that was a bit too intimate for me, so innocent about the female body...a bit less now that I'd actually touched boobs.
Urghhh...I walked quickly to my car, feeling and thinking that I was definitely in need of a visit to the "Beefcake & Daddy & Muscle tease" section at TheHotFurryFunXXXTube.org to wipe away the traumatic events of today from my poor innocent boy-mind. Damn...I was surprised they didn't ask me over to clean their pool or something...especially that vixen who'd pressed my belly extra hard even though it was only supposed to be a careful exercise...guess she wasn't getting anything at home...
"Hi, Caruthers!"
My ears jumped at the sudden noise and I turned, car keys in my paw, to see that the goddamn otter was standing there, partially camouflaged in the dark by the black T-shirt he wore, which had some fucking weird picture of a blood-smeared fur on it and the text "MESHUGGAH" over the top. He had his paws tucked into the pockets of some shorts, and he was grinning that weird toothy smile again.
"Whut?" I balked.
"How's it hanging?" the otter said. "I didn't get to talk to ya earlier because the class started!"
Damn...this seemed to prove to me that he really was a stalker...coming to talk to me here even after the class, which meant that rather than going home, he had stayed behind to harass me.
"Ouhmm..."
"Thought I'd say hello!" the otter grinned. "Always glad to see fellows from the team!"
What team? The marching band wasn't part of the football team, not a chance!
"Heh, yeah," I said quickly, "where's your girlfriend?"
The otter snickered.
"Page?" he said. "Oh, we had different schedules today, we both took our own cars here, she had to go to choir practice. She's in the choir you know, the Tinkerbells."
And here I thought the otter was the fairy...
"That's awfully fascinating, but I haven't got a goddamn idea what it's got to do with me."
"Well, nothing I guess!" the otter chuckled. "But I was saying, you know...well, I wanted to say..."
Whut?
"Yeah?" I tried not to sound too impatient. Furs usually got scared when I sounded impatient.
"Well, just wanted to tell that it's cool that there's at least someone in the football team who isn't a total idiot."
Now that caught me by surprise...how come he started saying something like that, I wondered. He hadn't seen my academic performance card, either, so maybe I didn't want to break his illusion about my alleged non-idiocy in that respect.
"Uhmm...thanks?"
"I know how most of you guys call it the gay brigade or the prancing band or something," the otter continued, "you don't seem the type tho."
What the hell did he mean by that?
I'd echoed all those uncreative bad names countless times myself, saying just exactly what my teammates were saying, too...you were supposed to, even if it was so stupid and kinda...cowardly of me, too. Kinda like stabbing someone in the back, I know, I know, but I always thought I could live the good gay life later on, when it wasn't so...complicated.
"Huh?" I grumbled.
"Well..." he scratched a vicious canine and looked at me, "you've had plenty of chances to tell the homo to get the fuck out your face but you haven't told me that yet."
"I still could," I snorted, rubbing the back of my neck, "you know."
He chuckled.
"You could," the otter said, "but what's the point? Don't see any of your football buddies here to laugh when you call me a homo."
I was kinda glad there wasn't anyone else around...suddenly all the cars had gone, I realized, leaving just me there, by my car, and that otter. Didn't' he have a car? The place was oddly deserted and kinda foreboding, too, with the church tower and all casting its presence over us.c
"Well, yeah," I stated the obvious at him stating the obvious. "Though I could always brag I did it..."
"Awwww," the otter shrugged, "that'd be lame...you'd better have done something more..."
"Like what?" I snapped.
"Like..." the otter appeared thoughtful as he suddenly stepped closer...a lot closer...like...close enough that I felt his breath against my face and I stumbled against the side of my car while he stood there looking calm as ever, "like you could tell that the homo made a move on you and you beat the crap out of him to teach him a lesson..."
"Humph," I probably sounded really pissed off now, watching him with a scowl that was genuine enough...what the fuck was he clowning around, anyway? He could really get his teeth bashed in acting like that, talking like that.
"Bet you could get extra points for it if it was a band geek from the prancing band..." the otter chuckled.
"Well I don't really want to beat anyone up," I said, speaking the truth, because what's the point of beating anyone up if you're not drunk...and defending your own honor. Besides, the Coach would probably beat my ass with a whip or something if he found out any members of his team had roughed up pansies.
"So the brute has a heart...wow..." the otter whistled.
Now I was starting to feel pissed off. He was obviously getting off on this in some weird way, and I didn't really feel like being the target of such by weird band geek gay otters wearing gruesome T-shirts.
"Not worth it," I cracked my knuckles and hoped that and my display of aloofness would tell him to stop pestering me.
"Great!" the otter clapped his paws together. "Then I guess you won't give me a black eye for telling you that you're totally my type, big guy...unf!"
He winked and marched away from me, just like that, leaving me standing there with my muzzle hanging open and a serious boner in my pants.
"Fuck..." I grumbled.
*
Of course my roomie was in...couldn't even jerk off, and didn't dare to do it in the bathroom...which means that big bear was pent up and irked rest of the day while trying to do homework...I finally caved in after arriving to campus and did it in a bathroom, which was a bit nasty but it was better than walking with a huge boner in my pants. Relieved like that, I was glad that I could have at least one evening off...didn't have a course, practice, or grueling homework, since we'd be having extra practice tomorrow on Saturday, with the game coming up next week...we needed all of it, the coach said, so no arguing with that. I was kinda relieved I could get some time for myself...there'd been so much to do recently, and...and...
...going to the first aid thing was going to creep me out from now on, since that otter would be there and probably try to hit on me again...good grief...what kind of a pick-up line was that...'wanna hit me up', huh? Maybe he had some really kinky fetishes, if he would just go on telling random straight jocks something like that.
Right.
"BRILL-BRILL-BRILL!"
Oh fuck...I was stomping along the campus heading for my Friday class when my phone went off...and as I took it out of my pocket, I saw that it was the Coach.
Oh, God.
"Andy here," I told to the phone.
"CARUTHERS!"
I held my phone further away from my ear and prepared to take it hard...lol.
"Yeah, Coach?"
"Come by the office today at four, I know that's when your last lecture ends, so you will have no excuses to not to show up!"
Goddamnit, spying on our schedules like that... he probably had some kind of a mugshot of me open on his computer, with my classes listed out next to it.
"Uh...alright, Coach, I'll do it."
"Good! And don't flunk out that course, I know you didn't get a good grade on your preliminary paper!"
Siiiiiigh.
"Yes, Boss."
"Good! Kruger out!"
No way he kept saying that on the phone...did he really think it was funny?
Anyway, managed the class without falling asleep, so there I was then, staggering over to the sports section of the campus and then under the rafters where the coach's office resided somewhere in the concrete labyrinth of strange bunker-like rooms and corridors. I was ready to call it quits by the time I knocked at the door.
"COME IN!"
I pushed the door open and saw the Coach sitting behind his desk as usual, in his sleeveless T-shirt (murr, but don't tell anyone!) and with the whistle around his neck, too, though no cap, which he often wore indoors, too....
"There you are, Caruthers!" he snapped.
I wasn't listening anymore. My eyes were too much fixed on the otter sitting on the small stool the coach had in front of his bed, uncomfortable enough to discourage anyone from loitering there for too long. Besides, he usually liked his guests standing while he shouted at them from a distance.
What the flying balls of fucking fuck?
"Hi!" the otter said.
"Caruthers!" Coach Kruger barked. "I happened to be talking with Mister Collier of the marching band and he mentioned that one of their members, Mister Sanders here, is also taking the emergency first aid course!"
"My friend Page wanted someone to come with her and I thought it'd be useful," the otter spoke all too cheerfully, "I was so surprise to meet someone from the football team there!"
Uhrrrr...
"Uh, yeah," I finally said after being scowled at by the Coach for not saying anything yet, "yeah, we go to the same class."
"Good!" the Coach barked. "That means that now we'll be having a properly trained emergency team at our disposal should something unfortunate happen!"
"Uhh...what?" I grunted.
"Coach Kruger and I were talking here," the otter gestured at the big German Shepherd.
Fuck, if this was the otter's idea...
"Yes! Since Sanders is at the course you share, I think that means that we'll be able to coordinate for all the big events where both the team and the marching band will be present. It's always good to have a backup, you should know that!" the Coach ranted on. "And since now we'll have two guys here with fresh diplomas from the course...."
"Well not yet," I said, "we've got two more sessions next week..."
"Which is before the game, and that means that you'll be ready to go for the game next week!"
"Uhh..."
"It's decided, Caruthers!" the Coach barked. "Mister Sanders has kindly agreed to it already, and I am sure you will too!"
One look at his face and I knew that if I tried to balk out of it, I'd hear that it was definitely part of the punishment for destroying the flowerbeds, and if I tried to squirm...he'd shove a shoe up my ass...without Crisco.
"Sure," I said, "I bet it'll look good on my record."
The Coach harrumphed and I suspected that his word would not be too favorable unless I did exactly as I was told.
"Good!" he grunted and pulled open a drawer out of which he took out something and tossed it in my direction.
I used my footballer reflexes to catch the small item and noticed immediately that it was a key, which I then proceeded to dumbly stare at.
"What's this?"
"It's the key to the supply room off the field where the first aid equipment is stored, you and Sanders are going to go there right now and do an inventory of everything that's there and then immediately report to me if anything is missing," he yapped.
"How are we going to know if something is indeed missing, sir?" the otter spoke oh ever so sweetly and politely to the Coach.
Goddamn ass-kissers.
"There is a red plastic folder on a shelf with a printed inventory list there," he replied, "it won't be difficult to locate."
"Thank you, sir!" the otter wagged his tail.
"Now get out of here, I gotta go, move it, move it, move it!" the Coach sprung to his full height, which was more than enough of a signal to tell us to bolt it.
The three of us exited the room in a wave of furs, with the coach going down the corridor in one direction and leaving me and the otter standing there, me clutching the key, the otter looking at me with one of those stupid ass smiles on his strange muzzle.
"Well, I think I know where that storage room is but you lead the way, big guy," he smirked, "bet you spend more time here than I do."
"I dunno," I snorted.
"What? You don't know where it is?"
"Of course I do!" I exclaimed.
We went through the corridors and out to the field while the otter whistled something that made my ears hurt indoors, and just annoyed while we were outside, walking past the coaching section and the like, until the old painted door was found, complete with a rusty-looking lock.
"How charming," the otter commented.
At least the lock didn't pay too much trouble. The lamp flickered a few times after I hit the switch, displaying a room stocked with a broken-looking lawnmower, paint cans, and various other abandoned supplies.
"Hmmm..." the otter hmmmm'd and rubbed his chin.
"Let's get this done and over with," I declared, both bored and not too keen on spending too much time with the sneaky otter, "where's the first aid kit?"
"Aren't you supposed to know?" the otter stated. "I suppose you use it more than we do."
I chuckled.
"Guess you can get repetitive strain injury emergency during a band practice?" I suggested.
"Oh you silly!" the otter chuckled...AND PATTED MY ASS!
"HEY!" I jumped after his fingers had barely made contact with my fleshy rump.
I scowled at him and saw that he was looking at me with not a hint of regret of fear in his face, even after he just groped a straight footballer's ass. Butt. Rump. Fun-mountain.
"Sorry, I was looking for the first aid kit," the otter said, gazing at the messy shelves.
I rubbed my ass, as if he'd smacked it, not just patted it ever so daintily, and grumbled.
"Not finding it there..."
"Maybe it's this one?" he pointed out an orange plastic box.
"Isn't that a tool kit?" I said.
The otter picked up the box and holding it over one arm, he clicked the lid open to reveal a few sorry-looking rolls of bandage and a pair of scissors.
"Gotcha!" he cheered. "I think this must be it."
"So now we need the inventory list," I rumbled, my eyes already scanning the room for any signs of the folder that had been mentioned.
"This thing looks so empty, I doubt that list is much good," the otter mused, rummaging through the box, "there's almost nothing here, this is no good for anyone."
"We'll still need the list or the Coach will kick our asses," I said.
"I wouldn't mind," the otter grinned.
That's it. I had enough. I grabbed the front of his stupid shirt and tugged him towards me, scowling as nastily as I could.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I yelled, he probably getting a look of my tonsils while I shouted.
"What's wrong, big bear?" the otter spoke in a remarkably level voice, even if he got a pissed off jock on his face. He didn't even seem scared or anything, just...amused.
I twisted my paw, to pull his shirt tighter, and make sure he wasn't going to squirm away.
"STOP MESSING AROUND WITH ME!"
"I'm just having fun..." the otter rumbled, "it's not like there's any harm to you, big guy, gays aren't predators, you know."
"SO WHAT ABOUT GRABBING MY ASS?"
"I wasn't grabbing," the otter said, and goddamn it if he didn't have his paw on me again, "this is a pat...see...pat pat..."
Damn, he was doing it...
"And now this is a grab..."
And he did, squeezing hard on a butt cheek.
I gasped, grunted, and let him go, stepping back so that I smacked against the shelf, paint cans rattling. His paw disappeared, thankfully, falling to his side while I gawked there.
"Keep your paws off me you homo!"
"Easy for you to say...homo," he replied with a grunt.
"Don't you call names you - "
"I don't think you're allowed to call me a homo if you get a boner when I touch your ass!" the otter looked at me defiantly, his paw rising again, to point at the bulge that had appeared on my track pants.
Oh for fuck's sake.