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Your Local Twelve O'clock News Sports

(November 26th)

Just past noon.

A television blared from high upon a wall, though barely audible amidst the clamor of the food court. And from its screen flashed the calling card of a local news affiliate...before it was replaced with the image of a newsroom, and of its two near-plasticine anchors.

The female cheetah to the right spoke first: "A local middle school coach, in Brooksboro, was arrested yesterday evening on multiple counts of sexual misconduct with children."

And the stallion to her side added: "A frightening story, as you can imagine, for many parents in Brooksboro this morning. News Eight's Jerry McCollough is live on the scene with more. Jerry?"

Standing beneath the bellowing screen, a young hyena watched in curiosity as the image cut from the newsroom to the exterior of a school, where Jerry McCollough stood, microphone in paw.

"Allen, Emily;" the ferret began, "News Eight has learned that Anthony Sutela, a coach and teacher at Brooksboro Middle School, has been arrested and charged on nine counts of sexual misconduct..."

Wait. Sutela? The hyena knew that name.

And his ears perked and breath stalled, as the darkened face of a wolf filled the screen. A mugshot, as the reporter continued, "...including sexual assault, statutory rape, kidnapping, child abuse, and child molestation."

No. Not just the name. The hyena knew that mugshot, too. He KNEW Anthony Sutela!

But he had no time to process what he'd seen. And Michael Taylor -- the hyena who so many knew as Mic -- barely had the chance to shake his head and breathe...

...before a voice called his attention away, "Hey!"

Mic turned to find a grinning tiger striding toward him. "Hunter! Oh my God!" and he burst forward to greet him. "You are never gonna' believe what I just...uhm...just..." but the hyena stammered and paused, casting his gaze about the food court, "...where's Elliot?"

"What?" Hunter arched a brow. "You thought he was with me?"

"Well I...kinda' assumed."

"Oh no. No, no, no," he shook his head. "There is no way I'm going anywhere near his mom's place. It would be bad enough if I was just his boyfriend, but I'm the big, evil tiger that started all of this shit, by fucking her son."

And Mic nodded, "Ah. Right."

"If I NEVER see her again, it'll still be too soon," the cat went on. "And I'm sure she feels the same way about me."

"Okay," Mic narrowed his eyes and asked again: "but then where's Elliot?"

And with a chipper little smile, Hunter responded: "Donald's picking him up!"

"Oh..." The hyena met the answer with a sly little smirk, "That should definitely make for a fun story."

"If Elliot has any say in it."

"But..." he stopped to think: "is it really any better for Donald to be near Elliot's mom, than you?"

"Yeah! She doesn't know him. Or..." Hunter corrected himself, "technically she doesn't know me either. But she knows OF a tiger. No sheps."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," Mic agreed. "Plus, Donald could probably pass as straight."

"And I can't?"

"Well, you know...it's just that you've got this..." he motioned at his friend, with a limp flick of the wrist, "I mean, it's in the hips, when you walk, and-"

But the tiger cut him short with a playful little shove...

...and with a soft chuckle, Mic continued. "Seriously, though. If you weren't pickin' Elliot up, then why'd we have to take two different cars, to get here?"

"I dunno," Hunter shrugged. "It seemed like you wanted to take your own."

"Only 'cause I didn't wanna' see his mom!"

His friend belted out the short, single note of a laugh, "I'm sensing a pattern," but it faded quickly behind a distant stare and a sigh as he looked away. "I hope he makes it."

"Oh?" the hyena nudged him. "Worried that he and Donald are gonna' get distracted, along the way?"

And as he'd hoped, it drew a little laugh from his friend. "No," Hunter huffed, "what worries me...is that the problem with sneaking out is that sometimes you get caught."

"He didn't get caught on Saturday, did he?"

"No..." he granted. "Well...not until it was too late for her to do anything about it, at least."

"So, why are you so worried today'll be any different?" Mic asked.

"Simple," the tiger sighed: "because she DID find out on Saturday. It wasn't until Elliot was long gone, sure, but she DOES know he snuck out. She'll be paying more attention, now."

"Sounds like you should have more faith in Elliot's skills!" Mic laughed...

...but Hunter didn't respond. Instead, he just craned his neck around with a sigh, scanning the walkways and branching corridors, looking for any sign of his husky. And the hyena at his side...he took pride, above all else, in being a good friend. And he felt compelled to comfort the fretting cat.

"Hunter! Relax. I'm sure he'll be here," he calmed his friend. "And if not, he'll call you."

Hunter, though, simply sighed: "If his mother hasn't found his phone, anyway."

"And if so, then Donald'll call," Mic pressed on reassuringly, before deciding to steer the subject to something new. After all, distractions were always helpful, "How's Ell likin' the new phone, by the way?"

"Eh. Okay I guess?" the tiger shrugged. "I didn't have enough money to get him anything better than a shitty little pre-paid."

"I don't think it's the technology he cares about, Hunter. It's gettin' to talk to you."

"Or..." his friend frowned, "...to us."

And it was back to this again. Mic wanted to respond. This had become a cloud hanging over them as of late, and it was well past time they'd talked about it. Really talked. But before he could even open his muzzle to try...

...Hunter pushed the conversation along: "Oh yeah! When I walked up, you said there was something I wasn't gonna' believe?"

And the hyena jolted up right, at the reminder, "Oh! Right! The news!"

"The news?" Hunter scoffed. "You watch the news?"

"I can't exactly control what they play on the TVs here at the mall, y'know?" the hyena answered as he pointed over his shoulder at the television on the wall.

"That doesn't mean you have to watch it," the tiger argued, and suggested: "I mean: wasn't there any paint drying anywhere?"

And Mic raised a judgmental brow, "You should really work on stayin' better informed, Hunter."

"THAT is what the internet is for." Hunter pointed at the television for emphasis, as he explained: "Local news is nothing but pointless fluff and depression, and cable is just a bunch of people arguing."

"Also sports!" the hyena added with a big, toothy smile.

"Ah!" Hunter chuckled as he shook his head, "So that's what you were staying informed about."

"I thought they might mention Paquiao & Rios..." Mic shrugged. "But that's not the point!"

"Okay, okay," Hunter waved a dismissive paw. "So what happened that I wouldn't believe?"

"Right!" Leaning in, as if sharing a secret, the hyena finally set about explaining what he'd seen: "So, over in Brooksboro, they arrested this, uhm..." but, yet again, he was stalled...as a swath of white caught his eye in the distance, "...this coach...and..."

"Yeah?" Hunter blinked in confusion. "A-and...?"

Mic was careful not to turn his head. Deftly shifting nothing his eyes, he locked onto the white target far across the mall. If this was who he thought it was, he couldn't let them know they'd been seen. And when that bright green accent flashed into view, Mic knew: "It's him again."

His tiger friend, though, remained one step behind, "Him? Him who? The coach?"

"No! That kid. He's here!" Mic explained. "The one I told you about? With the green-"

"Green dye!" Hunter interjected. "Yeah! Arctic fox or something right?" And he turned to look...

...but the hyena quickly stopped him, "No! Don't look! He'll run off again."

"So? Let him!" Hunter turned back at his friend. "He probably saw those damn pictures, and he's just trying to decide whether we're the ones in them, or not." He shook his head, "I'd rather him run off, than start causing trouble for us, like Brandon."

Brandon? That's right! Brandon. Fuck! That would have to wait for later, though.

"No," Mic argued, "I don't think he's lookin' to cause trouble."

"But how can you be so sure?"

And he smirked, "...cause I know that look."

"Oh no..." the tiger's forehead fell into his paw.

"Yeah. So...I'ma' go." Mic strode by his friend, giving his shoulder a friendly, farewell pat as he went, "I'll catch up with you three later, okay?"

Behind him, Hunter simply sighed, "Don't get arrested."

And the chase was on.

From across the mall, the little white fox saw the hyena advance. And Mic knew, if he'd been close enough to make it out, he would have seen the boy's eyes widen in fear, for that short moment before he disappeared into the crowd.

But Mic was tired of this little game. And he wasn't going to let him get away, again.

He knew the boy wouldn't run. He never did. It was better to walk and to hide. Running drew too much attention -- made it harder to blend in. And that would be smart...if he weren't already stark white and dyed green.

But, it at least made things easier on Mic. He didn't have to break into a sprint. He didn't have to push anyone out of his way. He could keep his distance. He could stalk his prey like the predator so many forgot his species was. So he did. He circled around. He watched for white and green -- watched for a skulking figure in its blue shirt and black pants -- to slip quietly into a store, or otherwise out of view.

And it did -- more than once -- while Mic followed behind.

The hood the hyena had worn to ward off the cold and the rain outside, now covered his head once more. He disappeared into crowds and behind kiosks. And he watched. In time, the fox relaxed. The boy had lost sight of the hyena on his heels. He was certain he'd shaken his pursuer.

And that was when Mic pounced upon his prey!

Or rather...when he slid up from behind, to startle him with a sharp and resounding:

"Boo!"

And he jumped; the little guy literally jumped! Both paws completely off the ground. Mic had never actually seen that happen, before. He'd seen people reel back, cower, and even fall over...and he'd heard it all get called 'jumping.'

But this was the first time he'd actually seen someone jump!

Paws planted again, the fox swung around to find the hyena looming over him. Mic smiled an intentionally toothy and predatory grin. And the little white thing scrambled, immediately, nearly stumbling over himself to run away. But of course...

"Whoa, now!" Mic caught him fast by a shoulder, and pulled him back. "You're not scurryin' off again," he hissed, swiftly wrapping his arm around the boy's neck and shoulders, where he held him tight at his side. "I think it's about high time we talk, don't you?"

The little fox was clearly uncomfortable -- be it from fear, shyness, or confusion -- but he was also clearly trapped. And he had no choice but to be dragged along as the hyena began to march on ahead.

"I...I shupposhe," he muttered...

...and Mic shook him lightly by the shoulders, "Relax, foxy. Relax! I'm not gonna' hurt you." But he leaned in with a little snarl, as his teeth grazed the boy's ear, "Unless that's what you want, anyway."

And when the fox shivered and shrank in his grasp, Mic smiled. His every suspicion was being proven correct.

"F-fol'f," the boy managed through the shiver.

"Whazat, kit?" Mic asked...

...and his captive blinked as he explained: "I am...not a foksh. I am a fol'f."

"See? We're gettin' somewhere already! And next you get to tell me your name." Mic paused, though, before verifying: "I'm assumin' you know mine, right?"

"M-Meek?" the folf asked.

"Little hard on the 'I,' but close enough," Mic nodded with a smile. "And you are?"

"Viri Virranhukka."

"Virivir?" the hyena raised a quizzical brow. "That's a bit of mouthful."

"N-no. It's..." Viri tried to correct him...

...but was immediately cut off, "Mind if I just call you Vir for short?" Mic, though, gave him no chance to answer, either, before pressing on: "So where're you from, Vir? Anhuka's not a name I recognize, but...that cute little accent of yours sounds, what? Swiss? Scandinavian?"

Again, the folf sank as he was called cute, "C-closhe. Finnish."

"Close? You mean Finland isn't in Scandinavia?"

"Uhm..." he seemed amused by the question, "almosht...?"

"Mm-hmm, mm-hmm..." Mic hummed through a slow, knowing nod, as if he was letting this vague geography lesson really sink in. But then he abruptly asked: "So will this be your first time suckin' a dick, or do you have experience?"

And Viri went stiff in his grasp, as a look of terror flashed across his silent face.

"What? It's important information!" the hyena contented. "How else would I know how much instruction you need?"

"I...I...I don't," Viri stammered, "I jusht..."

"Oh! You mean that's NOT what you wanted?" Mic pretended to be misunderstand, "Huh. I figured you'd wanna' get to know me a little bit better before you'd let me fuck you..."

"No!" the folf yelped.

"No? No: you don't need to get to know me better, first? Or no: you don't want me to fuck you?" Mic feigned confusion, "I'm gettin' mixed signals here, Vir."

And Viri whimpered under his captor's arm, "Pleashe don't hurrt me..."

So finally, the hyena stopped. Both literally -- their paws coming to a temporary halt on the tile -- and figuratively. The poor boy had had enough.

And he squeezed him with a friendly little laugh, "Oh relax! I already told you that I'm not gonna' hurt you. I'm just givin' you a hard time." With a smile, he caught his admirer's eye to wink, "I mean, don't you think I'm owed at least a little bit of payback? Y'know: after how long you've been stalkin' me?"

"Sh-shtal'king?" Viri's eyes widened. "I washn't..."

"Well, what do you call it, then?" Mic asked, loosening his grip as they started walking again. "You've been followin' me around, spyin' on me, for weeks!"

But the folf just hung his head, "I'm shorry."

"Oh hush! You don't have anything to be sorry for," Mic lifted the boy's gaze, with a finger under his chin. "I didn't say I was upset, did I? I mean: this is actually all pretty damn flattering! I've never had a secret admirer before. Especially not one with such an adorable, little foreign accent."

And Viri simply shrank again, blushing in silence.

"So why me?" the hyena asked. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I know I'm a hot, spotted piece of tail...but I wasn't the only one in that picture. This...is assuming that the picture was the catalyst for all of this?"

"It..." Viri nodded bashfully, "...it wash."

"Right! So then why aren't you followin' Hunter around, too?"

"He ish...taken?" he explained. "He ish with de hushky."

And Mic narrowed his eyes, "I don't know whether that's you respectin' their boundaries...or whether you just think it makes me the easier target."

Finally seeming to relax a bit, the folf smiled an uneasy little smile, "Both?"

"Well, it doesn't matter how easy I am!" Mic shot back. "You can't get me in bed if you won't even talk to me."

"We...arre tal'king now."

"That we are, Vir. That we are." And all at once, the hyena came to a stop, halting them just outside of the wide entrance to the mall's sporting goods store, where he turned to face the timid little folf, "Okay! So, I'm guessin' you prefer the take-charge type. Am I right? No questions. Just commands?"

Viri blushed yet again, as he looked around, before nodding meekly.

"Good!" Mic chirped, taking hold of his new friend's shoulders in both paws and looking him dead in the eye. "Then here's the deal. You tell me what you want. Right now. And, whatever it is, I'll make it happen." He paused to let that sink in, before adding: "But after that, we're gonna' be friends. No more hidin' in the shadows, and spyin', and followin' me around, and shit. After this, if you want me, you come talk to me. Deal?"

The little fold simply nodded.

"Alright." And with that, Mic took hold of the boy's muzzle and pointed it right at his own, so he wouldn't be able to avert his gaze, "No stuttering. No lookin' away. What do you want?"

Viri answered slowly, clearly working hard not to stutter. But it still wasn't quit the answer Mic had hoped for. "I don't know."

"Sure you do. You're just afraid to say it. But what you need to be afraid of, Vir...is missin' this opportunity. See: this is your chance. Right now. But if I walk away, you might never get another." The hyena, of course, was lying through his teeth. But it served its purpose well enough, as he immediately saw the boy's eyes grow wide with worry, "So I'm gonna' ask this one more time. When you're all alone, and you touch yourself while you're thinkin' about me...cause I know you do..." and he saw that same blush through the white fur of the folf's cheeks, yet again, "...what exactly do you imagine?"

With a huge gulp, Viri finally answered: "You...on top of me?"

"So that's what you want, then?" Mic asked...

...and the folf simply gave a short, little nod.

"Okay then! Come with me." Mic seized the boy's paw tight in his grasp, then turned immediately to tug him off toward the sporting goods store at their side.

And terror, again, washed over Viri's face as he was dragged along, "N-now!?"

"Now."

~

Minutes later, a dressing room door locked behind them

The clothes Mic had pretended that he wanted to try on tumbled from his paw, as he turned to look at his cornered prey. And what a delicious sight it was! The little folf trembled there in the tiny room, his paws tapping the floor, and his fingers nervously intertwined. He was trapped. He was at the hyena's mercy. And Mic knew the boy must have been second guessing it all...wondering just what he'd gotten himself into.

But he was smiling.

He was tenting.

And he wanted it.

Mic drew close, crowding the boy and inching him back, until he touched the wall. And as Viri's muzzle parted, Mic smirked. He'd done this all before. And he knew what came next: the feeble token protest.

"A-arre you surre thish ish a good idea?" Viri whispered his longest sentence, yet.

But, as he pressed himself against his newest friend, Mic answered, simple and direct: "I am." It was his turn, now, to be aloof.

"But, wh-what if we arre caught?"

"We won't be," again. Short and to the point, as he grasped the boy's hips and pressed their stiffening bulges together.

Viri whined at the new sensation. His tent throbbed against Mic's as he gripped the hyena's arms. But in a half whine, half whisper, he went on: "How can you be-"

"Trust me," Mic cut him short, as he trailed trailing a long, slow lick along his neck and to his ear. "I've done this before."

And as he bit down on that ear...with a sharp whimper, the token protest died.

Viri fell limp in his arms, all but for his tent and his gripping paws. Mic pressed him against the wall, holding him there more with the force of his grinding hips than with the strength of his arms. His muzzle dipped. He bit into the folf's neck and growled. And the boy's shaft twitched against his own, through the layers of cloth between them.

Without speaking a word, the hyena let Viri know exactly who was in control. In this moment, the folf was his. And though his helpless whines may have seemed an objection...that little twitch was more than consent enough. He wanted it. He was begging for it.

And Mic was more than happy to give it to him.

He slid back just far enough to slip a paw in between them, and to free his new toy's...toy. The button popped open. The zipper fell. And the cotton of his underwear sufferd the tiniest little tear, as the elastic waist was jerked down.

But Viri wouldn't complain. Especially not once that experienced paw wrapped around his slick, pulsing knot. And Mic smiled. He was already out of his sheath?

"What an eager pup..."

Again, he bit down on that trembling, white neck as he squeezed and stroked, and the folf barely restrained a yelp as he threw back his head. It was all perfect. All exactly how Mic had hoped it would be, having this little helpless thing in his arms. But, unfortunately...

"Meek!" the boy hissed. "Meek, no! No!"

No? Damn-it! Damn that word.

And Mic stopped on the spot. He pulled his muzzle back, and shifted his paw to a more tame position upon his prey's thigh. But he didn't back away. Not yet. After all, perhaps this could still be salvaged.

"What's wrong, Vir?"

"Therre! Up therre!" Viri pointed toward the ceiling...

...and Mic turned to look up. The dressing room walls weren't connected at the top. They weren't as tall as the ceiling, high above: warehouse style, with its exposed rafters, wiring, and ducts. And as Mic scanned that skeletal, metal expanse, he saw it:

"Therre's a camerra!" the folf whispered, "W-we arre being watched!"

But at once, Mic burst out into a stifled fit of laugher...

...which the boy, of course, didn't understand, "Wh-what ish...funny?"

So the hyena drew in a breath and looked his new toy in the eye, "Is that all? That's why you stopped me?"

"Y-yesh?"

"That camera doesn't work, Vir," Mic shook his head through a continued chuckle. "It's a fake. It's up there to scare people so they won't steal anything, when they're in the dressin' room."

"A-arre you surre?" Viri asked as he looked back up.

"I am. A friend of mine works here." And with that, the hyena wrapped his paw back around his new friend's still rigid bone, "Now where were we?"

And though he offered one final whimpered protest, "W-we could shtill be hearrd..." the boy fell limp again, nonetheless...surrendering once more to his captor's arms.

"Then I guess you'd better keep quiet."

And on he went. Stroking. Nibbling. Tasting the folf's neck and feeling him throb in his paw. Smelling the heat rise around them, and listening to the helpless, breathless, yelping whines against his ear. Teasing his new friend...his new toy...his prey.

But Mic was teasing himself, just the same. And it was time he moved this along.

So he stepped away, leaving Viri to catch his breath and shiver against the wall. He let the boy watch as he dropped his pants and kicked them away, in a single, desperate-yet-fluidic stroke. Viri's pants simply lay open, still, but Mic chose to cast his own aside. After all: feeling the air on his fur in this public place, and seeing the boy's eyes fall upon his suddenly barer form? It was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

The hyena was wearing a jock strap this afternoon. He'd worn it for Elliot. With he, Hunter, Donald, and Elliot all together, there was always the chance things might evolve into a foursome. And, somehow, he felt Elliot would enjoy the strap. But judging from Viri's expression -- his wide, immobile eyes and his drooping tongue -- it seemed the folf enjoyed it just as well.

Mic looked down at his package, barely contained by the jock strap. Half of his spotted sack, even, had already slipped free. And then he looked back to the folf with a devilish smirk, "Like what you see?"

Viri nodded...

...so the hyena gripped the bulging jock, "You want it?"

And Viri nodded again.

"Say it," Mic commanded. "Say it and I'll let you."

"I want it," the folf whined.

"Beg."

"Pleashe?"

"On your knees, then."

Viri did as he was commanded. Like a good pup. The hyena strode forward, pressing the strained cotton against the boy's nose. And Viri inhaled and shivered, there, as his paws rose to take hold of his prize.

"Good boy," Mic praised and petted, as he watched...

...watched him sniff, root, and nuzzle...rubbing every bit of that package against his face. Watched him knead and explore the white cotton pouch, fingers probing under and grazing the hyena's hidden shaft, beneath. Watched him lick and nurse upon the half of his sack already hanging exposed, pulling and suckling until it had all fallen free, into his waiting maw.

Watched as, like a cub on Christmas morning, the little folf paused and stilled his breath. As he bit his lip and took hold of the cotton. As he pulled it aside, to open his gift. And his eyes shot wide, nostrils flared, and tongue dripped...

...when the spotted monster appeared before his eyes.

He took hold of the shaft in both paws, lapping at its dripping head like a thirsty pup. He whined as he trailed his tongue from its base back to its tip. He squeezed it, as it flexed and twitched in his paws. And finally, he opened his muzzle to let the head sink in.

"Stop."

Only to be halted by the hyena watching from above.

And Viri did as he was told. He let the sticky tip fall from of his lips, and he looked up at his new friend...at his master for the afternoon.

"Stand up," Mic snapped his fingers.

And again, the folf did as he was told, holding his still open pants to keep them from falling, and then waited silently for his next instruction.

Which the hyena gave: "Turn around. Paws on the wall."

"B-but," Viri was unsure...

...but Mic was not. It was time. "This is what you wanted, right?" he asked, gripping and waving his cock at the boy.

"Y-yesh."

"Then turn around," he ordered with a growl and a smile, "...so I can give it to you."

The boy obeyed. He turned, he put his paws upon the wall, and he spread his legs. And Mic wasted no more time. He wouldn't tease. He wouldn't grind. He wouldn't say another word. He pulled the back of the boy's pants and underwear down in a single, stiff jerk, and then dropped to his knees...where he lifted that soft, white tail and buried his muzzle underneath.

And the boy moaned. He felt the hyena's nose and tongue rooting in under his tail. He felt the wet lapping and probing against his quivering hole. And Mic actually felt a little bad. The boy was clearly enjoying himself: the feeling of being rimmed by such an experienced tongue.

So too bad it wouldn't last.

He only needed to wet his target, after all. To lube it with what he had, since no real lube was on paw. And this was only a means to that end. So in seconds, he was back up on his feet...and the drooling tip of his heavy spotted dick took his muzzle's place.

With a gasp, Viri yelped: "Ei vielä!"

But Mic had no time for a Finnish lesson. And he grabbed the boy's hips in both paws and pushed, as Viri stifled a cry. The head popped in, and the hyena moaned aloud. He'd forgotten someone might hear. But in that moment, as he grinded himself in, tilting, twisting, and pushing until his balls touched his prey's...he didn't care who might hear.

"L-liian iso..." his toy whimpered, collapsing forward, face and chest against the wall...

...and Mic went to work. He'd never been one to be gentle, after all...and the boy said he would prefer someone who took charge. Well this, Mic thought as he pulled back and slammed into the folf for the first time, was him taking charge.

He dug his fingers into his new friend's hips, and pistoned into him with merciless abandon. He pulled back in time with his thrusts, and he took perverse joy in the sound of their hips slapping together. Just the same as the pitiful helpless little whimpers and yelps coming from his folf. And the breathless and barely audible words...

"Kiltti..."

But the hyena wasn't without a heart. And he knew, no matter how little control he might have, he would stop in an instant if he really believed Viri wanted him to. But as his right paw slid forward, finding, encircling, and stroking the folf's still rigid, still dribbling bone...he knew that whatever his new toy was saying in Finnish...

...it wasn't 'no.'

Soon enough, the whimpers and yelps turned to moans. And the walls -- walls not connected to the ceiling above -- rattled with every thrust. Someone, somewhere would hear them. But Mic didn't care. They would be done soon enough, and they'd just have to be sure they made a quick getaway.

He'd done this before.

In moments, he thrust in one final time, holding the boy's ass tight to his hips as he pulsed and twitched, unloading stream upon stream deep inside. But his paw -- the paw that had earlier found the boy's begging bone -- never stopped. After all, Mic prided himself on being a good friend. And a real friend was never selfish.

And there, amidst his breathless moans, the boy shivered and tensed as his own load splattered against the dressing room wall.

"...ki...ki...kiltti hyeena."

~

Mic's first instinct was to gloat.

He'd known he was right. He'd known Elliot and Donald would make it, just fine. And sure enough -- as he made his way back to the food court -- there they were! Elliot, Donald, and Hunter chatting away loudly enough for him to hear, even across the many yards separating them.

"...principal decided to be nice," the first words he caught were Hunter's. "I guess Mr. Callaway was extra convincing, or something? The principal just told me to keep quiet about it-"

"Which," Donald interjected, "yer doin' a great job of, by the way."

"Aren't I?" the tiger laughed. "He told me he didn't think anyone would notice, so long as I didn't say anything. And he said he'd let this week count as my week of suspension...even though we already have four days off for Thanksgiving, anyway."

"So..." with a timid smile, Elliot asked, "you'll be back next Monday?"

And his boyfriend nodded, "I'll be back next Monday."

The little husky burst forward, wrapping Hunter up in a hug...

...as the cat reassured him: "You won't have to deal with Brandon alone."

But Donald tossed up his paws, immediately taking offense at such a statement. "Alone? He's not alone! What about me and-" before he could finish, though, he noticed the hyena, now only steps away, "Mickey!"

"Donny!"

Mic threw open his arms, the German Shepherd did the same, and the two met one another in a big, tight embrace...though far less affectionate than the one just breaking apart, beside them.

"You have fun?" Hunter asked the hyena, with a derisive little smirk...

...and as he let go of the dog, Mic simply answered: "Let's just say...not everything about bein' outed is bad."

~

And Sibirskaia continues...

* This particular chapter (and the rest of Sibirskaia) was written entirely by Oloroso Rhone. But it was based on characters and story lines I created jointly with my friend Phil Anthro Pist

If you'd like to go say hi to Phil, he's got an account on here at http://phil-anthro-pist.sofurry.com/ *

This chapter was a prize for Virfolf!

Some of you may remember, WAY back in 2013, I needed money and held a raffle. The winner of that raffle would win a spot in Sibirskaia. Well, Vir won, and this is his spot! The little folf that's been stalking Mic for so long? That was him, and this chapter is his official win. I just decided to extend his cameo into other chapters too, to better set him up as a character, that way it wouldn't seem like he came out of left field, here. I hope you all enjoyed it! I know he did.

And be sure to join us be back next time, when we finally handle that news story...

SIDE NOTE 1: The dates in this story correspond to the 2013 calendar. November 26th really was a Tuesday that year, for instance. So, as such, I try to keep only use pop culture references, movies, and so on that match up with events from 2013. Thus, for any boxing fans who were confused...yes. I know Paquiao and Rios haven't fought since 2013. Just 2 or 3 days before this chapter takes place, in fact!

SIDE NOTE 2: Just in case you're wondering about the boys driving cars, and whether or not they're old enough. Donald and Mic are the oldest of the bunch: each 16. So they're old enough. Hunter, meanwhile, is only 15, but he got his hardship license back when his grandmother was still alive, since she (A) was too sickly at times to drive him anywhere, and (B) sometimes needed him to drive for her. So yes. All three of them can legally drive. But Elliot can't. He's only 14.

Anyway, thanks for reading! I welcome any feedback. Comment or PM me here, add me on skype, or email me at theottercoon[at]gmail.com

And if you enjoyed this chapter, and want to support my efforts to write more, I welcome any donations you would be willing to give

via PayPal for a one-time donation! Or CLICK HERE if you'd like to become my Patron on Patreon!

See you around for the next 11 chapters of Sibirskaia!