Winner Take All

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Gift story inspired by Blue Team Wins!, by Passpartou and feat. Tycloud.

Picture and characters used with permission.

This is the first time writing a story around a picture for me. It was a lot of fun.

Big thanks to Passpartou and Tycloud for being patient and giving me feedback so I could get their characters written correctly.

Finished reading? Please consider giving me feedback.


The sounds of battle echoed down the hall.

From within his room, the snap of the thumbsticks slamming into their holds were like the clashing of swords. The feverish pressing of every button like the rapid blows and counters of fist against flesh.

On the LCD screen, a spectacle unfolded. Bright flickers of light, dramatic pauses, and the battle-cries of two warriors in mid-duel, were almost too quick to follow for an untrained eye.

But, the two twelve-year-olds sitting upon the floor saw it more akin to an elegant dance than the frantic and lumbering cacophony of a mosh. Teeth were grit and tensions were high, the children's fingers flitting across the inputs in a string of combinations. The bars on the upper corners of the screen, both blinking, warned that the death of their respective warriors was merely a blow or two away.

"Stand still!" The boy commanded in frustration.

"Better catch me before it's too--"

"Aaaaahhhhh!!!" The boy's avatar wailed, the screen pausing briefly before, in slow-motion, the final blow was carried through.

"--Late." The girl finished smugly, as the disembodied voice declared her the winner."

The boy exhaled, dropping his hands and the controller into his lap and lifting his chin to stretch out his frustration. "Freaking had you."

"Can't win 'em all, sucka'" she gloated, raising her hand up in a diss.

"'Least I can win when it counts," the fox kit countered with his own smugness, folding his arms.

She glared at him, running a hand through the flock of hair that had gone unkempt in her concentration, as if the gesture shielded her from the retort.

Their moment was interrupted by his mother's call from down the hallway: "Kids, come make your sandwiches!"

The fox and lynx let their pupils snap from the door back to one another. They each took in a slow breath. The lynx started the countdown.

"Three..."

"Two..."

"One..."

"Go!" They declared in unison, dashing toward the door.

She reached it first, her hand gripping the threshold, but felt a tension on her chest and shoulders as her hoodie was snagged. She was forced aside, growling while she failed her struggles to keep him from getting through.

The fox kit had no qualms about being a bit rough with the lynx. Not after the smack she tried to shovel out, before he smacked her smack right off the field; five-to-two.

But she was no push-over. She caught up to him in the hall, darted past him, and halted abruptly to make him slam into her. She was pushed forward, but recovered into her dash, and then tripped on a bump in the rug.

"What the heck is going on?" The mother vixen questioned, appearing as if by magic at the head of the hallway. The question was rhetorical, for she saw the two had knocked each other to the ground, son on his rump and his friend on her knees. She leaned over, offering a hand to the lynx. "You okay, Mandy-honey?"

Amanda gritted her teeth at the cutesy nickname, but bore with it. "Yeah," she replied, accepting the hand.

"What did we learn?" The mother vixen questioned rhetorically, holding out her other hand to help her son up as well. "There's a reason for no running in the house."

"Actually, it was my fault for starting a race." The lynx interjected, feeling a sense of maturity in taking responsibility for their actions. "Sorry, Ty."

"I'm sorry, too."

"There? See. Not everything has to be a compe--"

"Sorryfornotleavingyouanyham!" The fox darted off, leaving his mother and the lynx.

The vixen rolled her eyes in defeat when the lynx dashed off after.

The cubs somehow coordinated putting sandwiches together in out-of-order steps, nabbing cold-cuts and slathering mayonnaise on cheese rather than bread.

Ty set his plate on the table and went to grab cups from the cupboard. "I'll get your drink," he offered. "What do you want?"

"Got anything orange?" She requested.

"We got a orange," he replied.

"An orange," she corrected. "Stop talking like a kid."

"Closest we got is strawberry Kool-Aid." He replied.

She set her plate down. "Fine." She bit into her sandwich, just to be able to claim first blood on their lunch.

"Well that's sweet of you, hun," his mom complimented, arriving to the scene of him pouring the drinks for them on the counter. "But one of these days, kiddo," his mom warned, pulling open the dishwasher. "You'll have to learn when it's better to cooperate instead of compete."

"I'm gonna cooperate," he replied, taking a huge bite of his sandwich.

"I'd like to hear that one." The vixen said with a bit of sarcasm, glassware and porcelain tinkling as she toweled the water off the bottom of the cups.

"Pmmn-mnn smmnn Amnnhnn mmn-nhhn--"

"Swallow, then talk," the lynx said, rolling her eyes.

He swallowed. "Pretty soon, Amanda and I are gonna go to the park. I'm going to help her practice. Teach her some tricks of the masters, y'know."

"Tyler," his mother said with a maternally-threatening tone. "You'd better not be rubbing it in."

"He's not." The lynx piped up, just now getting through half her sandwich. Then, she smirked when his mother wasn't looking. "Not yet, anyway."

"Well the second he does, you let me know Mandy-honey."

The fox smirked when the lynx grimaced.

"Will do." She promised, though her double-entente went far enough over his mom's head to reach Pluto's orbit.

"Can she borrow your uniform from last year, Ty? I don't want to send her home in sweaty clothes."

"I brought mine," Amanda stated. "Besides, I wouldn't be caught dead wearing his colors."

"You better be careful, kiddo. This one's got some spice." His mom smiled. "Well, I'm going to catch the news. Don't get tummy-aches." She rubbed her hands on the towel and tossed it over to the sink.

The kids ate in silence, until Amanda finished her sandwich. She gulped down half of her Kool-Aid. "I kinda want to go to the park... if we can squeeze it in real quick."

The fox kit was in mid-swallow, and caught another double-entente in her words. The bite was too big, and he had to use a gulp of Kool-Aide to get it down. Gasping, he started to hiccup.

She giggled, and her chair scraped against the tile as she scooted out from the table. "I'm gonna go get ready," she said, taking another swig of her drink and setting it down with a clack. "Don't hurry. I'm going to take my time." She rapped her knuckles on the table twice before heading toward her bag by the front door.

He watched her cute little tail as she left, chewing slowly. This "practice" was going to be awesome.

* * *

Amanda took a collecting breath as she gazed at herself in the mirror. The three layers of clothing, plus the socks, were what made soccer a bit uncomfortable for her. While her soccer gear felt so constricting, her volleyball uniform was free and loose. Heck, she could even play volleyball in a bikini. Not like she normally did. At least, she didn't always want to attract someone's attention.

It was also a bit of an annoyance to put on the whole shebang, when most--if not all--was about to come off. Normally, she could do without the little role-playing, especially when this much work went into it. But, she was obligated to fulfill the fantasy.

Unable to delay it much longer, she slid on her arm-warmers and opened the bathroom door. Her socked footfalls were stealthy and quiet, but Ty was practically watching the hallway like an eagle.

Dressed in his blue uniform, as opposed to her pink, they stepped out onto the porch to put on their tennis shoes--no point in needlessly wearing down the cleats.

"Just have to make a stop at the shed," the fox commented.

"Sure." She replied, knowing it was just a line, in case his mother heard and saw them go in.

When they were out of earshot from the house, their duffel bags scraping along their hips with their stride, he chuckled.

"Nervous, huh?" She questioned.

"No. Just..." He chuckled again. "First lesson in mastery: You gotta take care of your balls."

The lynx snorted.

"No, seriously," he grinned. "I wash mine at least once a day, and keep them pumped just right--not too soft, not to hard."

"I coulda guessed you pumped your balls once a day just from how strong your right arm is," she quipped, as they arrived at the shed. It was more akin to a detached garage.

"I use a foot-pump," he replied. "I don't need my arms for soccer."

They stepped up to the garage door, and the fox kit pulled a key from his bag. He inserted it into the lock and, when he turned the handle, there was a somewhat violent lurch and clang. The door lifted easily enough. "Ladies first," he offered.

She stepped in, followed by him immediately after. The garage door shut, throwing them into relative darkness, save for beams of light that pierced through a few holes scattered about. "You plan on doing this in the dark?" She questioned. "Cuz I'm okay with that."

Just then, the light flicked on. "Don't you want to see my balls?"

"If you insist." She said, with a bored inflection, following his hand-wave toward the wall. There, a ball-cage with a large chain and padlock housed at least a dozen balls. Most were standard-issue, white-and-black, but there were others. Some were neon-yellow-and-black, and one was even green-and-white. He even had a few World Cup-issue balls. Aside from the standard-issue, which were well-worn, they were in very good condition.

"Neat," was all she gave him. Behind her, she heard the metallic thunderclap of the lock re-engaging, sending a silent jolt through her body. "Scared the crap out of me." She told him.

"Sorry. Don't want anyone interrupting, do ya?"

"Is there a chance for that?" She questioned, a little nervous. "Like, your mom won't walk in on us when I see your other balls, will she?" Surely he wouldn't be stupid enough to risk getting caught. Then again... might be fun...

"Nah," he brushed the worry away with a dismissive wave. "This is my realm. I'm even the one that keeps it clean and tidy. Mom only comes in if I ask her to."

"That's not the only key... is it?" She didn't think Ty would do anything extreme, but she still felt the need to ask.

He tossed it up, and caught it. "Mmm... Maybe." He grinned, and went to put it back in his bag. "Nah. There's a spare in the house." He squatted down, shuffling around in his bag.

She looked about more of the garage.

The fluorescent lights overhead illuminated the room in a pale-purple color. It was surprisingly clean for a garage. It was almost clean enough to be a room-away-from-room.

Opposite to the ball-cage, a trophy-display was adorned with just about as many as she had. Except where hers were a little more varied, his was almost exclusively soccer-related. There were also some medals and ribbons framed in shadow-boxes hung upon the wall.

Also adorning the walls were posters of star athletes; idols and heroes to look up to and be inspired by. Against the back corner, a broken-down goal was about the most disheveled thing about the room.

And, in the very back wall, was a podium. The podium was for first-, second-, and third-place holders to stand proudly, sorely, and shamefully.

"Here it is." The fox kit muttered.

The lynx turned when she heard a metal tinkling, to see him adorning his neck with the gold medal that she could have been wearing. Her hackles raised a bit, the gesture a little bit of a taunt.

So this was how it would be.

"You remember the deal, right?" The fox kit said with a grin, his bushy tail swishing from side to side as he went to the podium, plopping his rear onto the first-place spot. "Winner take all."

She sighed, her cheeks taking on a bit of a blush. "Yeah."

"So..." He tapped his foot on the second-place spot. "How about we do a little warm-up?" He fought the gleeful smile that wanted to slap on his face.

There was a moment's pause before she made her way to where his feet were propped. She couldn't really say anything; no jeer or quip or snarky comment. There wasn't even really a point in feeling any regret for making the boisterous deal she made. She couldn't even really feel shame either; she did her best, but soccer wasn't volleyball.

Time to fulfill the promise.

She sat upon the spot for second-place, her head just a little higher than his crotch. She gazed down at his blue shorts, noting the wrinkles and the contour of his groin. She slid her fingers into his waistband, and started tugging.

He lifted his rear off the podium to help her, watching the blush on her cheeks redden further when his genitals felt the air. He sat down again, shorts barely off his knees, and leaned back a little.

She blinked, watching the medal nestle on his tummy. The little pink pecker in front of her was already peeking out of its sheath. The horny kit was probably perving about this whole fantasy ever since he got home yesterday.

Giving him a brief glance, she swallowed, and leaned forward.

He giggled when her rough tongue licked his peeping tip. His knees flinched out of reflex, bumping into her gently. He was held down for the time being, while she licked his sensitive flesh, and the downy fur of his sheath.

Her rough tongue made quick work of every boy so far. Like most feline girls, she kept it in check--not too rough, but nowhere near soft. Just enough so that the person at the business-end of her muzzle could feel that tender little tug with each stroke. And he seemed to enjoy it in particular.

He gritted his teeth, his cheeks turning red as she turned her head to graze her tongue from root to tip on the top half of his penis. His lower abs tensed and flexed, his pelvis rapidly trembling to try and work through the feelings in his groin.

Once he was fully peaked, she dipped low to his testicles, giving them a bit of attention from her tongue. She flicked over the fuzzy orbs. She twisted her tongue sideways and started at the seam between them, stroking outward; one, then its brother. She forced her way into the crevice where his genitals met his thighs, and he almost tried to force her away from there, his throat half-whimpering and half-giggling.

"There," she said. "I washed your balls for you."

Before he had a chance to say anything, she swallowed him down to the root. His eyes rolled up and his body shivered. The sudden shock of warmth and dampness was not foreign, but the added vibrations of her purring were. The vibrations tickled far beyond where her lips could go, deep into his pelvis, stimulating nerves and glands he didn't know he had.

She didn't mind when his hands held her head, but she dissuaded him from gripping her pony-tail. If he felt the temptation to pull it, she had no qualms returning the favor. Sneaking a hand to his sac, and another finger to stroke the fuzzy skin just behind it, she began bobbing her head slowly. Her tongue naturally grazed his flesh, and she guided it slowly to meander along both downwards and up.

He began to gently grind against her muzzle, the medal swaying gently with each bump of his pelvis. Her eyes followed it, a streak within her quivering at the thoughts that ran through her mind.

She suckled him gently, a grin on her face. It didn't matter, really; the only thing she really lost was an opportunity to have a little boy-toy for a bit. Either way, it was going to end up being something like this.

She felt a tickle in her throat as he twitched, and his fingertips clamped against her scalp. She giggled; the poor kit didn't last long at all. He throbbed in her lips, she tenderly easing him by sucking and bobbing slowly. Some of it leaked out on her way down, her tongue pushing it out. When her muzzle pressed to his pelvis, his spunk lewdly gathered on her lips like syrup, and equally mussed his own pubic area.

When his salty, bitter seed was emptied and swallowed, she pulled off his cock with a bit of suction, just like every boy liked. "Coulda warned me." She muttered, sitting up and stretching her neck a bit.

"S--s-sorry," the kit stammered, still coming down from his ecstasy. "I... I usually don't... um..." He felt a bit silly, having spent so quickly.

She smiled. "It's okay." She stood, moving to his left and leaning on the spot of his perch, with her fingers near his rump. "You'll last longer when you're older," she said, her smile turning to a bit of a smirk.

He squinted one eye, and started to shimmy off the podium. With his shorts still around his knees, he shuffled behind her. The way she was leaning, her rear was nearly presenting to him.

She looked back, watching him get behind her. "D--don't you wanna take a break?" She questioned.

He shook his head. "Not if you wanna actually try to practice," he replied.

She bit her lip, craning her neck to see out of the corner of her eye. He wasn't even that soft. There was a tug at her shorts, and the air started to hit the small of her back. As he tugged her shorts down over her rear, the fur on her body went rigid. He didn't even get them much further than her thighs before laying his hand on her buttocks.

Just as she had been silent to him, he was silent to her. She felt his warm flesh graze her backside, and tap against her pink slit. Her muscles twitched at the gentle touch, and she felt a trickle of her body's natural lubricant dribble out onto her mound. She was spread by his fingertips, her heart fluttering at that feeling. Her eyes squinted as she felt the tip press to her opening, and she let out an embarrassing mew as he began to push into her.

He exhaled, and it turned into a gratified groan. Then, he paused. "Oh..." Was all he said.

She glanced back, and despite her blush she managed chuckle. "Sorry. Some other winner took that a long time ago," she explained.

He wasn't really disappointed, nor really surprised. This wasn't his first time either. It was just... a curiosity that was satisfied. He began to gently hump her, causing her to breathe heavily. He watched her body respond to his actions, her back arching and her tail twitching and fanning with each thrust.

He giggled.

"What's... nngh... What's so funny?" She questioned.

"I like your little tail." He told her, moving one hand to press it against the small of her back. "It's so cute."

She growled. "I like your little cock," she retorted; "it's so--aaaah!" She quivered, his hands moving to her touch her mound as he gave a particularly sharp thrust.

"You were sayin'?" He chuckled.

She blinked gazing back at him. She was moved, as he lifted her hips, his hands supporting her by nestling into the creases between her mound and thighs, and holding her firmly to his pelvis. She gasped as he began thrusting in and out of her, reaching all the way to the root. The shorts about her thighs made it difficult to keep her footing, but it was too pleasant a feeling to tell him to stop.

His hips bucked and his tip buried itself into her silken depths over and over again. His feet began scraping back, as even he had to fight for a bit of footing. He kept up the rhythmic motion for a minute or so, encouraged by the way she vocalized her appeal and the way even her rump began to blush with warmth as her peak neared.

Then, his ears flicked and his tail went frizzy when she gave a series of moans, raising in pitch. Finally, she let out another mew, and her head leaned forward.

He yanked her back a little, raising up on his heels and grinding his pelvis into her. He felt the gentle squeezes of her canal, and moaned himself. Yipping, he began scoring into her goal.

She actually felt a little bad that she faked her orgasm. It wasn't that he was a bad romp--not at all. It was just that the streak inside of her made her feel like she didn't deserve the ecstasy. That was reserved only for the winner.

Besides, a little self-imposed denial-play was fun. The next cock inside of her would a get an added bonus when her orgasm-desperate body finally crashed onto them.

The only bad part was her balance. He'd caught her in a bind, with one leg supporting her and the other knee bent. She glanced back, witnessing a toothy grin on his face as he stared down at her ass.

Plik.

It was a barely-audible sound, but she knew what it was as soon as she felt the sticky liquid creeping down the back of her thigh. It wasn't until he had let her go, with one final squeak from her as his tip popped out of her labia, that she realized the extent of the damage.

"Ugh! Look at this mess!" She leaned over to untie her shoes. She stepped out of them and pulled off her shorts nearly at the same time. She held the garments up, pink-striped panties still gathered around her knees. "Great. Now look what you did? Freaking perv." She flipped her hands, showing him the back-side, where his semen was now cooling and drying on them. "Or were you gonna take me to the park with your cum on my ass the whole time?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry... I guess I got a little carried away," he chuckled, scratching his head. "But hey... If you had won, you wouldn't be in this mess, right?" He snorted. "Or maybe, I should sa--"

"I. Swear." She dropped the shorts onto the floor, her voice fierce enough to make him close his muzzle. "If you finish that lame joke, I'll cup-check you back to last Tuesday." She spat on the ground, hunched over, and began taking off her panties. She wasn't actually angry--in fact, she was rather enjoying their little deal. Standing back up, bottomless, she rested a hand on her hip.

Ty's eyes wandered, from her somewhat tart expression, to look downward. Her groin-fur was mussed a little, his semen beginning to congeal at the inside of her thighs. He swallowed, and glanced back to her face when she lifted her shirts up above her navel.

"Does gawking help your perv-fix?" She asked, and then jutted her head forward with an exaggerated interpretation of what he was doing, complete with her tongue lolling out. "You look really silly. Plus, you're being rude. You could show me some more fur."

He licked his lips, and started peeling his shirts off, dropping them to the side. He bit his lip, standing a bit awkwardly with his shorts still hanging at his knees. "Um... you gonna take off your--"

"I dunno." She interrupted, curtly, folding her arms over her chest.

"Why not?" He squatted down to take off his shoes.

She watched him undo the left before responding, "I have my reasons."

"Don't tell me you think your boobs are small, or something," he replied, wrenching the other shoe free.

She glared daggers at him. "You know, you're not the biggest cock I've seen," she growled.

He let his shorts slip off as he stepped closer to her. "Ah, c'mon," he said dismissively. "Who cares? It still feels good. Besides," he hesitantly hovered his hand over her shoulder. After an awkward moment where he waited to see if she would snap, he gently rested it there, and smiled into her green eyes. "You're an athlete, and a good one at that. Your boobs aren't small, they're just toned; and, if they were too big, they'd get in the way."

She gritted her teeth and looked to the side. Her shoulder was squeezed.

"Let's change and go back to the house. We can tell mom there were too many people at the park, or they were mowing it, or something." He turned, heading for his duffel bag.

"Hey." She barked. When he turned, she looked down for a second, in a last-minute hesitation. But then, she gripped the hem of her shirts, and pulled them off in a smooth motion, revealing her pink sports-bra. "Winner take all, remember?"

"You said if I won, we'd have sex," he replied. "We did... So..."

"Maybe I wanna change the rules." She muttered, blushing. "If it's winner take all, then you only took my mouth and my pussy," she pointed out. "There's still my face," she pointed to her cheek, "My abs," she rested her other hand on her navel, and the pointed down, "My feet." She turned away from him, "My back. My butt, if you want," she pulled her right cheek aside, showing her tail-hole to him. "And, because you're a lucky little punk..."

He felt his gut turn with a bit of tension as he watched her peel off her sports bra, back still facing him. When it plopped on the ground beside her, he barely had time to avert his gaze, before she turned to face him. But, her left arm covered her chest.

"If you tell anyone you got to see," she threatened, closing the space between them. "I'll make you wish you lost on purpose."

He gulped. "I'll c--close my eyes, if you want," he replied.

She got to her knees, arm still covering herself. "Don't be such a baby," she scolded, her fingers lifting his flaccid member. "Besides," she reasoned, giving him a lick and watching him stiffen before her eyes. "If I had won, I wouldn't be in this mess, right?"