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The whistle sounded and the last baseball thumped into the last glove. "That's a day, team. Great practice. Hit the showers," the coach called.

Taric panted, paws on his knees, and then slowly straightened. The tall, rangy coyote grinned as Perry ambled toward him, turning to walk alongside the other coyote. "Missed a couple grounders, there, huh?" he said.

"Yeah, yeah," Perry said. "You missed one last time."

"And you missed three, faggot." Taric elbowed Perry and flicked his ears back.

The right and center fielder, a wolf and fox named Davis and Hoxley, looked their way. Sometimes when Taric said words like "faggot," those guys gave him a hard time, shit like, "hey, it's 2014, get over it," or if they were tired, "shut up, bigot." But now they just walked past him, so he said, louder, "those University of Portland faggots got nothing on us."

They didn't react there either, just turned to each other and muttered under their breath. He grinned and flicked his tail. It wasn't like he was a bigot, to be honest. Gay guys could go do whatever the fuck they did behind closed doors. That wolf his senior year of high school, the guy in his dorm his freshman year--those guys wanted him to acknowledge that they liked to fuck dudes, to say it was okay, probably wanted him to stroke their dicks or let them put their muzzles on his cock. And he was not into that.

What was more, those guys weren't real guys. Real guys didn't let other guys shove cocks into them. And that was fine, there was a place in the world for those guys. Taric had clawed his way out of the ghetto to graduate high school and play baseball in college. He was smart, he was good, and he was a real guy who fucked girls. And he'd finally gotten one more step on the road to respectability this week.

"Can I give you a ride?" he asked Perry as they got out of the showers. "Got my car now."

"Ride your bike, it'll be faster," said a rabbit, and a couple people laughed.

"Fuck you," Taric said, and snapped his towel in their direction, but they just laughed and turned away.

Perry grabbed clothes from his locker and dressed. "Nah, I'm gonna grab the bus. My things are back at the student center anyway."

"I could swing by there."

"Don't go out of your way." Perry pulled his shirt on. "I'll catch a ride tomorrow when we don't have class right before."

"You go to class?" another one of their teammates said. "What a waste of fucking time."

About half the team made an effort to be students; the other half figured they would get picked up in the minor leagues sometime and what good was a college degree then? Taric and Perry had learned not to waste any opportunity, so they were trying hard to at least get passing grades while also keeping up their practices.

"Assholes," Taric grumbled as they walked out.

"Don't let 'em get you down." Perry clapped him on the shoulder. "Cool about the car, though. Can't wait to take a ride."

He and the rest of the team filed over to the bus, while several of the others who'd driven walked off to their own cars. Taric turned to the parking area and was stopped by Davis, the wolf who played right field, now in his fashionable shirt and tie. "Hey, Taric."

"What?" Taric looked warily at the wolf.

"Just wanted to say, you know, maybe cut back on the homophobic slurs in public, huh?"

Taric narrowed his eyes. "What's it to you? You a faggot?"

"Jesus, Taric."

"No, seriously, it's cool. You can play. Just keep your eyes off my ass."

The wolf's ears flattened and his muzzle curled in annoyance. "You're a piece of work, you know that?"

Taric grinned. "Hey, I played with faggots before. Never had a problem with them as long as they keep their dicks away from me."

"Does anybody get their dicks near you?" The wolf shook his head. "I dunno how anyone can stand to be around you for more than five minutes."

"Because I'm a coyote, right? Because I don't wear nice shirts and," he picked up the tie and let it drop, "ties, and I didn't go to the right schools and learn how to talk all proper?"

"Because you can't fuckin' relax about gay people, for one."

"Why should I? I don't want nothin' to do with them."

Davis shook his head. "All right, look, I'm just sayin', it doesn't look good for the school. Think what you want, just tone it the fuck down."

"When the manager tells me to tone it down, I'll tone it down. I don't have to listen to you, Miss Priss."

Davis threw his paws in the air. "Fine," he said, "have it your way. Just remember, I could've helped you with your car."

He walked past Taric, and Taric thought that maybe the wolf was smirking just a little. "My car? Hey!" He reached out and grabbed the wolf's shoulder. "What the fuck did you do to my car?"

Davis wrenched away from him. "Just noticed where it was parked. That's all. More than you did."

He walked away. Taric took a step toward him, fists balled, and then turned back to the corner around which his car was parked. He shook a finger at Davis. "I'll fuckin' get you later," he growled, and hurried around the corner.

All the other players' cars were gone. His old brown '97 beater was there, though, and standing next to it, a wolf in a dark blue uniform was writing out a ticket. As Taric came around the corner, the wolf picked up a phone and dialed.

"Hey, hey!" Taric ran up to him.

The wolf held up a paw. "Yeah. Just send a tow truck, parking lot, Dab Cortland field. Right."

"No no no!" The coyote grabbed for the phone, but the cop held it away from him and fended him off with the other paw. If Taric had been more determined, he probably had enough reach to get the phone, but he wasn't going to risk assaulting a cop. He knew better than that.

"Is this your car?"

"Yes!"

The cop gestured to the handicapped sign, the bright blue symbol that was so close to his car it was reflected in his windshield. The lines around the car were blue, too. Taric just must not have seen them in his eagerness to park for the first time. "Well, you're gonna have to get it back from the impound lot. Three hundred bucks."

"No, it's right here!" Taric pulled his keys out. "Look, I'll just drive away now. No harm, no foul."

"Too late. I called the tow truck. Once they're dispatched, it's three hundred bucks."

"You can't--I can't--" Three hundred dollars? That was an unimaginable amount of money. That was half what he'd paid for the car itself.

The cop shrugged and looked Taric up and down. He stood about two inches shorter than the coyote, but Taric still had the impression that the guy was looking down on him. "Ain't my problem."

"You gotta help me. Call them back. Call them and tell them it was a mistake."

The wolf's eyes dropped, down Taric's t-shirt to his jeans, slowly, and back up. He raised one brown paw to scratch at his whiskers, dark against the ivory underside of his muzzle. "But it ain't a mistake. You parked in a handicapped spot."

The name on the cop's badge was Malloy. "I made a mistake. Please, just let me off. Come on, Officer Malloy. I know you can call the guy back." Taric stepped toward the car with the keys.

The wolf stepped between him and the car. "Sir, you can't leave with the vehicle. I've got the license number and I've got your description. If you leave, you'll have to pay the fine plus a ticket for failure to comply with the direct instructions of an officer."

"Come on!" Taric raised his voice, pleading.

"Sorry," the wolf said again, his thick muzzle obstinate, his ears flat around his cap. He looked about as sorry as a summer storm. "Nothing I can do."

But he was standing there and he hadn't given Taric the ticket yet. Taric wasn't an idiot; he'd grown up on the street and he knew the language of people who wanted something they weren't going to say. He clearly didn't have money, so the cop couldn't want that. If he wanted something else legal, he would've just asked. And cops were just like everyone else Taric knew, trying to get whatever they could out of him.

Now he considered the way the cop was eyeing him. Like that wolf from high school, maybe, the more he thought about it. He narrowed his eyes and did the mental arithmetic in his head. Was he willing to do something for three hundred bucks? To keep his car? Realistically, it would take him months to get the car back. The guys on the team would wonder what happened to it--no, they wouldn't. Davis would tell them all and they would laugh at him.

His fists curled and uncurled; his tail did the same. He took a breath. "Look," he said. "I'd be willing to do any--a lot. To make this go away."

Malloy inclined his head and perked his ears up. "Yeah?"

Taric licked his lips and tried to settle down the anger boiling up inside him. "I..." He forced a smile. "We could discuss it...in private."

"Well." The cop took out his cell phone. "Show me what you mean."

He'd been right; not that he took any pleasure in that. Taric reached down and ran his paw along his hip. The cop didn't tell him to stop. He turned his head, but the parking lot was empty. He'd heard the bus leave already. He flipped his tail to the side and traced his paws up along the edge of his sheath.

"If I wanted a show, I'da bought a ticket," the cop said.

Taric looked up at the blunt brown muzzle and the short ears, the dark brown eyes fixed on his. He stepped up closer to the cop and the cop still didn't stop him. So Taric reached a paw down to the cop's groin and rubbed his fingers up and down. He tried not to think about what he was doing, focusing on the three hundred bucks rather than the hardness under his fingers.

"All right," Malloy said, "that's enough."

For a moment, Taric thought the cop just wanted a grope. But then the wolf beckoned him down past his car, along to the back of the stadium. "Are you going to make the call?" the coyote asked.

"What, now?" The cop chuckled. "We've got half an hour. I ain't picking up that phone 'til you make good on your promise."

He brought Taric to a door marked "No Admittance" and unlocked it. Behind the door, a musty smell emanated from the shadows. The wolf gestured for Taric to go in first.

Three hundred dollars, Taric thought, and stepped inside.

He found himself in a hallway with a tiled floor cool on his paws. "First door on your right," the wolf said, and stepped in after him.

The door closed, leaving them in shadows. Taric walked slowly down the hall, letting his eyes adjust, and pushed open the first door.

The musty smell got stronger in here. He'd come into a storage room packed with shelves and boxes and old cloth. When the cop came in after him and flicked on the light, he saw the grey film of spiderwebs padding every corner and edge. The floor here was carpeted, at least.

The door closed. Taric turned to the cop, who took two steps into the room and then unbuckled his belt. "All right," he said. "Get to it."

Jesus Dog, Taric thought. All right, he'd done some pretty shitty stuff in his life. He could get through this.

He walked over and undid the cop's pants, reaching his paw down inside. The guy was harder than he'd been before, thick erection straining out against Taric's fingers. "Not so hard," Malloy said when Taric started rubbing. "Do it like you're doing yourself."

"I am," Taric said, and almost added that he didn't have to be caressed gently like a fucking faggot, but snapped his jaw shut on the words. He just lightened up, rubbing his fingers along the length and trying not to think about the stickiness he was feeling through the light fabric of the cop's briefs.

"Take 'em off," the wolf growled.

Taric hesitated. "Mine or yours?"

Malloy's ears flicked forward. "You can take yours off if you want. I don't give a shit. But if you're gonna get your muzzle around it, you're gonna take mine off."

"My..." the coyote faltered.

The cop's eyes stayed fixed on his. "You thought you were gonna get off with a handie? You can still pay the three hundred if you want. Just walk outta here."

Give a blow job? No, that was something faggots did. He couldn't do that, have this wolf's cock in his mouth? Just the thought made him...but on the other side, nobody would see him here. And he'd had his own cock in his mouth a couple times. This couldn't be that much worse, could it?

Part of him was surprised that a cop was so willing to just trade a ticket for a blow job. But he'd stayed away from cops most of his life, and he'd only been eighteen for a couple months. So maybe this was how the world was going to work. Get a couple faggots in positions of power and they'd be demanding blow jobs.

Well, okay. Taric could do it this once, but just wait until he was the one with the power.

He dropped to his knees and reached up to pull the cop's pants and underwear down. The thick wolf cock bobbed in front of him.

He'd looked at other cocks, sure, but not this close up. This one was thicker and shorter than his, but it had the same familiar tip and the swelling in the middle, and down near the base, its knot was already growing.

Fuck, the guy wanted to come on his tongue. Taric gagged at the thought, but hid it well enough that he hoped the cop only noticed his flattened ears. He reached up and wrapped his paw around the cock, and Malloy gave a low growl. "That's it, you little bitch," he said. "Now suck it."

The coyote's tail bristled, and he almost took the cop's cock and bit down on it. But he hadn't gotten through his life by ignoring the people who could help him out. He'd just store it up and get back when he had a chance. He knew the cop's name, and Malloy would pay for this, somewhere down the line.

At least, at the very least, the wolf's fur didn't smell filthy. Taric hesitated, and then closed his lips around the shaft.

It was worse because the guy was starting to make noise. He let out a raspy breath when Taric's tongue touched his cock, and thrust forward to push against the coyote's pressure. Taric closed his eyes, got a firmer hold on the knot so the guy couldn't push so hard, and started sliding his muzzle back and forth.

At first, he almost gagged. His mind would not let him forget that he had some other guy's cock sliding over his tongue, and when the musky smell got stronger, he had to stop.

"Don't quit on me now." The cop's paw settled between his ears.

"Just...catching my breath. I'm not good at this," Taric growled, looking up, trying to ignore the bobbing pink shaft as it brushed his whiskers.

"Don't piss on my back and tell me it's raining. I can tell you done it before."

"I haven't!" A snarl crept into his voice.

Malloy stared down at him. "You jumped to sex really fast."

Taric splayed his ears and moved his muzzle as the wolf's shaft brushed his whiskers again. "What?"

Malloy turned his hips so his cock rubbed against the coyote's muzzle before Taric could avoid it. "When you tried to get me to call off the tow truck. You coulda said, 'I can't afford three hundred, but I got forty.' You're on the baseball team, right? You coulda offered me autographs, equipment, pictures. You coulda offered to hook me up with some girls back on campus even."

"I..." He folded his ears all the way back. What the hell had he been thinking?

"But you went right for the sex. You wanted this." The cock slapped his muzzle again. "So get back to it."

It wasn't true. It was crazy. And yet, he couldn't do anything but take the cock back into his muzzle and bob back and forth over it. The wolf's length slid through his lips and over his tongue, and salty musk built up against his taste buds. He had to stop to swallow saliva every few licks, and the last time he almost gagged was when he realized he was swallowing the wolf's pre-cum, too.

Malloy was making lots of throaty moans. He said things too, called Taric a little bitch and praised his soft mouth, but Taric didn't listen to any of that. He was going to get this guy off, take his car, and then go home and gargle with fucking bleach.

"Ah, yeah, that's it," Malloy yelled, and Taric shuddered as the cock slammed against his tongue, the wolf's fur pressing against his nostrils. The musky smell got stronger, and Taric braced himself.

The room seemed to get brighter as he squeezed his eyes shut, or else it was just the pressure on his eyes. And then another voice, a high one, said, "What the hell is going on here?"

Malloy's hips pulled back as fast as they'd shoved forward, his cock pulling out past Taric's lips. The coyote's eyes flew open, and he and Malloy both turned, staring at the doorway.

Framed against the dark hallway, a short cop who looked like a kinkajou stared back at them. "Malloy? You better have a good explanation."

Taric grinned, looking up at the wolf. Now was where Malloy got his, caught with his cock out. It was worth having to have the guy's cock in his mouth to witness this moment.

"Hey, Gomez, just chill." The wolf's tail curled, but he didn't make any attempt to pull his pants up. "Look, the guy was trying to get me to call off the tow truck. It was his idea."

"No!" Taric started to get to his feet, but Malloy's paw landed between his ears, pushing him down. "No, it was this guy's idea!"

"Really?" Malloy stared down at him. "Then it must have been someone else who offered to do 'anything' to keep me from calling the tow truck. It was some other coyote who touched himself in the parking lot trying to get me to call them off."

The other cop, Gomez, had a round light-brown furred face and a short almost-ursine muzzle under two round ears. He walked in and shut the door, and folded his arms. "Well," he said, "if you offered to do anything, you better do anything."

Taric stared at the guy. "Wait," he said.

Gomez pointed at him. "You promised my partner a blow job, so get to it."

"You can't make me do that!" Taric tried to get up and the wolf's paw pushed him back to the floor.

"I told you," Malloy said, "you can walk out of here and pay your three hundred dollar ticket any time you like."

Taric gave Gomez another pleading look. "There's gotta be something else I can do."

Gomez raised an eyebrow. "You promised the wolf a blow job."

"Yeah, but..." Taric searched for words. "Look, I'm just struggling to get by. I can't afford three hundred bucks. You know what it's like, right?"

"How would I know that?" Gomez stared him down.

"Your family...you came up from Sonora, right? Wait, kinkajous come from what, Cabralia?"

Malloy started to laugh. "Ah, kid, you did it now."

"I'm not a kinkajou." Gomez advanced on Taric. He was only a couple feet taller than the coyote even when Taric was kneeling. "I'm an olinguito."

"A what?" Taric stared at him. "You're a fucking kinkajou. Don't make up a fancy name for yourself. That's like my cousin who calls himself a 'brush wolf' so he doesn't have to say he's a coyote."

"Hoo hoo hoo boy." Malloy cackled and reached down to stroke his cock with the paw that wasn't holding Taric down. "It's your lucky day. You're up to two blow jobs now, coyote."

"Oh, no." Gomez walked farther into the room. Taric's head turned to track the olin-whatever the hell he was. As Gomez approached him, Taric scrambled to get to his feet, ducking his head away from Malloy's attempt to keep him down.

Before he could get all the way up, Gomez's small paws fell on his shoulders and pushed him down with surprising force. "You keep suckin' on my partner there. I'm just gonna write you up for resisting an officer. Month or so in jail oughta teach you to respect a fella's species, you little snot-nosed faggot bitch."

Jail? No, no, no. He couldn't go to jail. He'd be off the team, he'd be kicked out of school, he'd end up on the street. "No, don't do that, I'm--" He choked on the word, unable to force out an apology. "I'll suck you off too." Hell, he was already doing it once, what was twice?

"I don't think I want a blow job from that fuckin' mouth," Gomez said. He sat where Taric could see him and took his ticket pad out of his pocket. From his pocket, he pulled a pen and licked the tip, then glared at Taric as he started writing on the pad.

Taric's heart pounded. "There's gotta be something. Please, I can't go to jail. I'll, I'll..." The cop was staring at him, and he thought again about that gay wolf looking at his ass. "I'll take my pants off."

Gomez stopped writing. His eyes burned into Taric's. "You can...you can jerk me off," Taric said, praying inside that this would be enough. "You can suck me off if you want."

Malloy, his paw still pressing on Taric's head, let out a "Haw." Gomez, still staring at Taric, deliberately lifted the pen and started writing again.

Fuck. He swallowed. "You can fuck me," he whispered.

The kinka--olinguito leaned forward. "Didn't hear that," he said.

"I said," Taric bit his lip. He thought about the times he'd put fingers in his ass. It couldn't be that bad. It'd be over in like half an hour, and then he wouldn't go to jail. And if this didn't do it then he had no idea what the fuck would. "I said you can fuck me."

Gomez just stared at him thoughtfully. "See, he goes right for the sex, first thing. Whaddya say?" Malloy called over his shoulder. "Get a little rotisserie goin' here?"

The olinguito set his pad down and stood up. He gestured down at Taric. "Take your pants off," he said.

The coyote stood up; Malloy's paw allowed it. He unbuckled his pants, heart racing, and thought about the other times he'd been scared. Trying out for baseball. Shoplifting from the supermarket. The first time he'd been in a fight. Jumping off the roof of his house. Just do it and get it over with, he told himself.

So he hooked his thumbs into his waist and shoved his pants down his legs, his underwear going with it. Savagely, he kicked his pants aside and stood there, his sheath hanging out under his t-shirt.

"Take the shirt off, too," Malloy said.

Whatever. Taric grabbed the lower hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He threw it after his pants and stood naked, his arms at his sides. He wanted to hide his sheath and balls from the cops, especially Malloy, who was staring like he wanted to dive in and suck on Taric himself. But he kept his paws down, kept his chin up.

"All right," Gomez said. "Back on your knees, faggot."

"I'm not a fucking fag," Taric said, as Malloy's big paw landed on his shoulder and shoved him down. He dropped to the carpet, and when he turned his head, his nose bumped into the wolf's cock. He smelled his own saliva on it, and the wolf's musk as well. The combination made his throat work, but he opened his jaws and took it obediently in, bracing himself on the wolf's thighs.

A strong paw yanked his tail up. He flinched, and then jumped when a slick finger prodded beneath his tail and slid inside him. When it was someone else's and he didn't expect it, it wasn't as nice. He could feel his muscles clenching in an attempt to keep the finger out, but it insistently drove in farther.

"Just relax there," Gomez said behind him.

"Nnnf," Taric growled.

"I believe he's sayin' he wants more than just a finger, Gomez," Malloy said.

Taric was tempted to jam one of his own fingers into Malloy's ass, but honestly the faggot would probably get off on that. And then Gomez pushed another finger in beside the first, and Taric forgot about that, squeezing his eyes shut and closing his lips around the wolf's length, hoping and praying that the olinguito's wasn't anywhere near that thick.

"Uhh." Malloy thrust harder into Taric's muzzle, his knot bumping against the coyote's lips. If Taric had to take that whole thing in, he'd gag or suffocate, or maybe both. But then the wolf pulled back again, allowing the coyote's tongue the freedom to run over the musky tip.

And then the fingers came out of him, and he sagged backwards. The paw grabbed his tail again, pulling his rear up with a yank that jolted his spine. "Dirty fag," Gomez muttered. "Just putting a little wrapping on, make sure I don't get any diseases from this gutter trash."

The familiar insult brought his family to mind, and he banished those thoughts immediately. He did not want to think about his mom and sister while he was naked on his knees with one cock in his mouth and another poised to violate him. So he just focused on getting the goddamn wolf off so he could be done with that part of it. He didn't know how to do it, of course, hadn't a fucking clue, but the wolf didn't seem to care. He thrust against Taric's tongue and lips, and Taric just kind of sucked because he remembered that some of the gals who'd sucked him off had done that.

There was a pressure under his tail, and then something as big as four fingers bunched together pushed through his muscles and into him.

He yelped despite himself and jumped forward, which briefly brought him a respite from the cock in his rear but also unfortunately drove Malloy's cock so far into his muzzle that his jaw was pushed open by the wolf's knot. Coughing, he pulled his head back, and then a paw grabbed the scruff of his neck. "Sit. Still," came Gomez's voice.

Trembling, Taric tried to keep from moving, which was easier with someone holding his scruff. Malloy, after a moment to reposition himself, thrust into his muzzle again with gusto. This time, when Gomez's cock pushed into him, at least Taric knew what to expect.

It wasn't very slick, and it hurt going in. He grunted around the thick shaft in his muzzle and gripped the wolf's thighs, trying again to keep his mind on sucking this guy off and not what was happening under his tail.

The shaft there pushed farther into him, and the uncomfortable feeling grew stronger and stronger. Taric swallowed a cry, closed his eyes again, and closed his lips over the smooth slick skin. The musky taste and smell filled his nose now. He thought he might throw up.

And then, even more unexpected, a paw came around and gripped his sheath.

"Uh-uh," he gasped around the shaft.

The paw ignored him, and Gomez didn't reply, but the olinguito pulled back slowly, so Taric could feel every inch of the length inside him, and then slowly shoved back in, all the way up, so that the cop's muscular hips pushed against Taric's rear. And the cop's fingers tugged and pulled, and Taric, to his horror, was getting hard.

"Uh," he moaned, the paw gripping his scruff keeping him somewhat limp. Malloy's paw, clenched in the fur between the coyote's ears, pulled him forward to meet the wolf's thrusting hips, then held him as the hips pulled back.

"Uh. Uh." The wolf almost echoed Taric's own cries, but with a different note to them.

In his rear, the olinguito's shaft paused. The fingers uncurled from his sheath, and there was a spitting sound. Then the cock re-entered him, moving more smoothly, and slick fingers came around to where his shaft was poking out of his sheath.

Taric moaned again. If he got off during this, he would never forgive himself. But his treacherous body didn't seem to care. He was almost all the way out of his shaft already, and as the paw stroked him, he felt the familiar sensations beginning to build.

And then Malloy's thrusting picked up intensity. "Hah. Hah. Hnngh!" The wolf's paw pulled painfully at Taric's fur; the cock drove against his tongue and the knot forced his lips apart. The wolf's body shuddered, and then a spray of warmth hit the back of Taric's tongue. Reflexively, he swallowed, and then thought about what he'd just swallowed and almost brought it back up again. But there was more and more collecting in his throat and he couldn't spit it out because the way was blocked, and his body, which appeared to be taking perverse delight in betraying him, swallowed and swallowed again.

"Wee-hoo!" Malloy crowed. "Ah, shit, lookit him drink it up! He's a thirsty faggot, that one."

The wolf pulled back, and Taric gratefully let the cock pass out from between his lips. He put a paw to his throat, and then he looked up and saw the wolf's cock in front of him, pink and glistening, and a little blob of jizz collected at the tip and fell, slowly, making its way to the floor.

"Done on this end," Malloy said. "You can get him off now, Gomez."

"Shut up," the olinguito said, "or you can come over here and take his dick in your mouth."

Taric, now on all fours, breathed in the thick smell of the wolf's musk, his tongue rolling the taste around as he swallowed convulsively, trying to get rid of it.

Malloy kept a paw between his ears and called back to Gomez, "You need me to keep him down?"

"Nah." Gomez kept a firm paw in Taric's scruff, which was humiliating, though not as much as the repeated thrusts. And now that the taste in his muzzle had lessened, Taric was responding to the fingers again, his shaft extending. His tongue hung out and he gulped down saliva, but he couldn't think of anything to do but just stay there on all fours, being held down like a bitch and fucked like a bitch and jerked off like--like what? Like a faggot.

He wasn't a faggot. Even if he'd thought the cop wanted sex before anything else. He was just good at reading people, that was all. He held onto that, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see Malloy's shit-eating grin, so he wouldn't have to look around and have any memories of this room.

Gomez kept fucking him slowly like that, until Taric's arousal overcame his disgust. He shuddered and tightened, and Gomez stroked him faster, and he felt the arousal building in him and he didn't want to come, but those relentless fingers had found just the right rhythm and tension, and they pulled him upward and upward, closer and closer, and then he gasped in a throaty moan, very different from the triumphant moan he gave when he was fucking a girl. His hips tightened and jerked forward, and Gomez came with him, buried all the way inside him, and Taric's whole body clenched and convulsed and he spurted out onto the carpet again and again.

Then Gomez's fingers let him go, both around his cock and on his neck. Then Taric felt the discomfort again, the sensations that had been masked by his arousal and orgasm, and now the cock thrusting up into him felt thicker and wider still. He clenched his teeth and gasped, and kept counting down in his head. Five more thrusts and he'll be done. Four and three and two and one. And then he would start again: Five more thrusts and he'll be done. Four and three and two and one. He wanted to pull away, to collapse on the floor and curl his tail around between his legs, but he could see Gomez's pad a little ways away from him. Jail time. He couldn't do that to his family, to his team, to himself. Five more thrusts...

It was probably fifty before the olinguito grunted and jerked, shoving himself hard into Taric in rapid pumps, and then went tense and shuddered, pressed deep inside the coyote. Taric kept his eyes shut, trying not to imagine what was being spilled inside his guts at the moment. He just rested on all fours, docile, waiting for Gomez to be done.

Finally, finally, the olinguito sat back, and his cock slid out and then free of Taric. The wave of relief as his muscles resumed their normal shape made the coyote lurch forward, and he gave a small sob and then hated himself for it.

Malloy's voice came to him, distant. "Hey, sorry about this, I'm as embarrassed as a June bug in May, but we don't need that truck after all. Yeah, the guy had a handicapped placard, just didn't have it up. Sorry, Joe. Yeah, you too. Thanks."

He stayed crouched on all fours. The cops walked around the room, and then there was a ripping sound, and some pieces of paper floated down past his muzzle. "Bathroom's down the hall," Gomez's voice said. The door opened and then closed, and the room was still.

Taric stayed where he was. How easily could he just forget all this, he wondered? If he called up his friend Mike and asked him for some of those roofies and took one real quick, would he forget this whole afternoon?

He rocked back on his heels. His rear was sore, though that wasn't the worst. The slickness and the smell were bad, too, but they weren't the worst either. The worst was the way they'd made him ask for it, the doubts they'd planted in his mind about whether or not he wanted it.

With an effort, he got to his feet and walked out into the hall naked. He didn't give a shit now if anyone saw him. He cleaned up in the bathroom as best he could, then returned and dressed and walked out.

The sun felt like an accusation. He shielded his eyes and scanned the parking lot. His car was still there; at least they'd kept their word. Sitting down in the driver's seat was uncomfortable, but he got used to it. And slowly, his numbness wore off, leaving anger. There was no way he would let this go. He would come find those fucking cops, and this time he'd have his knife, and he would make them suck him off. They could swallow his jizz and then they'd see how they liked it. In fact, he'd get a few of his friends together. They could all come in the cops' mouths.

After a shower and a night spent talking himself out of revenge fantasies and into the more feasible revenge scenario of reporting the cops, his sleep was plagued with nightmares. He was running from cops, and they had some kind of remote device that jabbed up into his rear whenever they caught sight of him. He woke, heart pounding, paws slick with sweat.

He couldn't report the cops without admitting to what he'd done, that was the problem. But by the time he'd made it through his classes, his attention for the day shot, he had an idea. He could just make an anonymous complaint. People did that all the time. If the police needed evidence, they could just keep his identity secret. But it would be enough to get them looking at this pair of rapist faggot cops, and that would get them in trouble to start with. All Taric would have to do was make a phone call to the police.

He got to baseball practice with this new plan singing in his head, a fierce smile on his muzzle. And then he opened his locker and stared at the paper hanging there in the back of it. It was a full page printout of a photo: Taric, definitely recognizable, with his lips and muzzle stretched around a large pink wolf cock.

He slammed the locker shut, looking around wide-eyed, but nobody else was paying attention to him. Maybe he'd hallucinated it. People under stress often hallucinated. The words of the cop came back to him: You wanted this. Had he? Had he wanted it so much that he wanted to see it again?

He opened the locker again and there was the picture. His gorge rose, and he reached out to rip it down, and only then noticed the note attached to the bottom, and the name tag dangling from it.

The note read, "The next time you say 'faggot' in public, this picture goes up in every locker. The time after that, it goes up in your dorm." It was signed with a scrawled heart and smiley face.

And the name tag whose pin had been punched through the bottom of the note was a police badge, a familiar one. Taric grabbed the picture off the wall, crumpling it, and the badge labeled "Malloy" fell to the bottom of his locker and lay there, face up, taunting him.

He would keep the badge, to confront them with when he finally tracked them down. Olinguito: he would remember that, and he would find those cops. The picture he carried to the end of the hall, where there was a trash can, but when he got there, he thrust the crumpled paper into his pocket and kept walking.