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The warning message: STOP! This story deals with references and scenes of homosexual nature between males in graphic detail. If you're not of the legal age of your country, this is illegal for you to read or even look at. So press Alt+F4 on your keyboard and close this immediately. If you are claim that you are old enough, but are not, and read this anyway and get caught, I will not accept responsibility. This story is a work of M/M furry sex fiction. Brand names belong to their rightful owners. All the characters and events portrayed in this story are fictitious, and unless mentioned here or previously, are copyrighted to Linkin Monroe 2009. * * *

Grandview High School, Chapter Four: The Move In So I Could Move Out Instead of Move On

• * * Two weeks after Lashley's disappearance, the Monroe family was packing all of their belongings into the back of a large U-haul trailer and was getting ready to move out of West Coast to a city that Linkin didn't even know the name of yet; nor did he care to know. He had to tag along with his family since he still had two more years of high school left until he could graduate. The plan was to have everything into the trailer by noon so that they could make it to the new home by evening. However, by noon that very day, Linkin had barely packed a quarter of his things and he did not care to do anymore. He kept checking his phone for any message from Lash, much to the great annoyance of his step-mother who saw cellular phones, as well as anything else that used the latest technology, as a major waste of time. The Doberman could be found lying on his back with his head over the edge of the bed, staring idly at the ceiling. His bedroom was the only room in the entire house that still had all its furniture and personal touches. The carpet was littered with mostly empty cardboard boxes, as he had begun packing earlier that week but his attention span was shorten and he had been prey to uncontrollable mood swings. He kept thinking about Lashley and just could not get the kangaroo off of his mind. A knock on his door brought him back to earth and he glanced over at the source of the ruckus. His step-mother, Michelle, stood there, a scowl on her face. "Why aren't you finished packing yet?" she asked, her ever watchful eyes scanning his room. "Put that phone away and get off your lazy rump. I don't know how you grew up to be such a slothful child." "How about this?" Linkin retorted as he sat up and took the cell phone off his chest. "Why don't you just let me do it when I feel like it and get out of my room." She huffed and crossed her arms, her face turning sour. "Maybe I would if you acted more your ageâ€"" Linkin interrupted her as he walked over to the door. "And how exactly does someone my age act? Terry from school smokes pot every day. Angelina just got an abortion. They're my age." The Akita bit her lip and thought of something to say. Finally she replied, "Well, I guess they're not that great of an example of being responsible." "Guess not," Linkin held the door in his paw and closed it in his step-mother's face, locking it immediately. "Bye!" Michelle huffed again and angrily stomped down the hallway. She tried to care for her husband's children, give them the love she thought they needed, but Linkin was difficult from the first day of their marriage ten years ago when he was just six years old. John's first wife had died giving birth to their last child, Maxwell. The Monroe family had taken a serious blow from the death, especially Linkin. When John started dating her, Linkin became very distant, even irrational, to everyone around him except his sister, Audrey, who was older than him by two years. But now that she was in college and they saw her less frequently, Linkin's self-confinement only grew worse. "Hi mom!" Maxwell shouted as he bounced out of his room and ran down the stairs in front of her with a basketball tucked under his arm, only to rush to the front door and shout, "Bye mom!" before closing it. She sighed as she picked up a box and carried it outside where a large moving truck was parked in the road directly in front of their driveway. John was helping the movers putting the grand piano into the trailer while Maxwell was taking practice hoops in their driveway. He had been the more enthusiastic one in the family about moving. Michelle wasn't sure why the thirteen-year old pup was so happy about moving; he had plenty of friends here in Arbordale and would not see them again for a long while. Michelle put the box down next to a pile of unloaded boxes and turned into their two door garage which was filled with furniture and even more boxes. She began to sort through the box maze, compiling them according to the way she wanted them to be packed into the truck. The Akita was setting down a box labeled: ‘China', when Maxwell's basketball came bouncing into the garage and knocked down a stack of boxes filled with books. "Oopsie! Sorry!" she heard as the young Doberman apologize from outside the garage. She turned to face him, arms crossed to look as authoritative as she knew how. "Get in here now, Maxwell," Michelle ordered in her sharpest and strictest voice. "And clean this mess up rightâ€"" "Michelle," John said as he came up the driveway, followed behind by two movers. Her husband wiped his paws on a rag before he ruffled Maxwell's untidy headfur as he came into the garage. "Maxwell didn't mean to make a mess." He picked up the basketball and tossed it to his son. "Go on and play Max." "Thanks dad!" the young pup grinned and took off running with his basketball. "John," Michelle scolded as John bent over and picked up the books and put them back into the boxes. "You mustn't be so lenient on your children. You wonder why Linkin acts the way he does sometimes, it's because you haven't given him any restrictions or punishments. And just in case you haven't noticed, he's barely packed a single thing." The older Doberman looked over his shoulder at his wife. "I'll go talk to him, okay? And there's nothing wrong with my children." He put the last pile of spilled books into a box and stood up. "Instruct the movers how you want things packed. Apparently you don't like how I'm doing it." He grinned and stepped into the house through the garage side-door as she rolled her eyes with a sigh. John walked through the laundry room, taking a second's glance at the dented dryer door. He had to agree with Michelle on one thing; Linkin's behavior had changed drastically ever since he heard the news about them moving two weeks ago. The Doberman had his suspicions, but couldn't come to any real conclusions. Since then Linkin wouldn't talk to anyone, let alone stay in the presence of his family for longer than five minutes. When his buddies from the football team at school came over the past weekend for one last game, he denied their request politely and returned to his room. John slowly walked up the stairs, one step at a time as his paw slide up the pawrail until it ended at the top. Linkin's room was the second door to the right, which was indeed closed and locked. Rapping softly on the door he heard a grunt come from his son on the other side of the door. "Linkin, can I come in?" John asked into the crack between the door and the doorframe. The door unlocked with a click. He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, his face developed a surprised look by what he saw. Almost everything in Linkin's room was packed into boxes or in the suitcase designated for a change of clothes for the next week before they could unpack most of everything in their new home. Looking around Linkin's room, John was surprised at how empty everything was with it all packed. Linkin was carelessly dumping clothes from the drawers of his dresser into a box. He didn't even bother to look up at his dad as he walked in. His cropped ears were plugged in with headphones that were connected to the iPod Touch in his pocket. Linkin listened to music distastefully, every song he listened to reminded him of Lashley, his boyfriend of three days and who knows if he would ever see him again. The past two weeks he spent countless hours trying to locate Lashley, his every thought was on the kangaroo and his safety and whether he'd see him again, but so far had found nothing. "I see that you're nearly done packing," Mr. Monroe commented, nodding approvingly at the mound of boxes by the door. "Your mom will be happy about that." "Great..." Linkin said sarcastically as he folded the box lids down and pushed it across the carpet toward the door just as his cell phone on the top of his dresser began ringing. He stood up and checked it. It wasn't a number he recognized or saved in his contacts. He looked up at his dad who understood the impression for privacy leaving with an approving wave of his paw. Linkin flipped his phone open and pressed the send button to answer. "Hello?" "Linkin?" he heard a familiar voice gasp in desperation and relief. It was Lashley. "Lashley!" Linkin cried out in surprise. He switched the phone to his other ear and started to hyperventilate. "Oh my god, are you okay? What happened? I love you so much. I'm so sorry for what happened." The Doberman heard a sniff on the other side of the line before Lashley responded. "Yeah... everything's okay. Dad's calmed down a bit but... I think it'll be some time before he lets me do anything. I'm under ‘house arrest' he says. School starts in a week and I don't know if dad will let me go... Linkin," Lashley's voice cracked over the phone. "I'm so scared..." "I know Lash... I know..." Linkin bit his lip. He felt like he should say something to comfort his boyfriend, but he wasn't sure what to say. He didn't know how the kangaroo really felt, but he had a pretty good thought. "I'm here for you... whenever." "I know," Lashley inhaled so deeply Linkin could hear it over the receiver. "I just had to call you Linkin. I love you." "I love you too," Linkin replied. Suddenly he had an idea. "Lashley? Give me your address and I'll come break you out of your house." At his house, curled up in a ball on the couch in the living room, Lashley shook his head. "I don't know if that's a good idea Link... at least not at the moment. You could get into a lot of trouble and I'd just get into deeper trouble too..." "I understand," Linkin sat down on his bedroom floor and rubbed his chin, trying to think of something else to say other than ‘I love you' or anything else so short no matter how true it was. Lashley was taking a major risk just by calling him. He was about to say something when he heard Lashley yelp and the boisterous voice of Mr. Parker. On his end, Linkin listened to Lashley's frantic pleads to his father and then silence. It took him a second to realize the connection had been terminated and he closed his phone with a clap. Lashley was gone again. *** "DAD!!!" Lashley screamed and kicked as he scratched at the strong vise-like grip of his father's paw that was holding his wrist of the paw that held the cordless phone. The young kangaroo had not heard his father walk in through the garage door and into the house while he had been talking to Linkin. Mr. Parker snuck up behind his unsuspecting son and snatched his wrist and yanked it up, pulling Lashley's entire body up with it and over the back of the couch, toppling it over. "Let go of that phone now!" Mr. Parker ordered gruffly, squeezing so tightly on Lashley's arm that the veins in Lashley's paw began to swell with trapped blood. He ignored the cries of his son as he growled, "WHO WERE YOU TALKING TO?" "I wasn't talking to anyone!" Lashley whined he felt the circulation in his paw begin to decrease, but managed to hold on tight to the phone. "You're hurting me dad! PLEASE let me go!!! I didn't do anything!!!" Mr. Parker shook Lashley's arm violently as he tried to make him release his grip on the phone. "Damn you, Lashley. Don't lie to me! WHO WERE YOU TALKING TO?!" the enraged kangaroo bellowed at the top of his lungs. Lashley began to sob as he was dragged across the floor of the house, thrashing his legs and tail about, knocking over chairs and upturning tables trying to impede his father from hurting him any more. "I swear I'm not lying to you Dad! Please," he began crying like he did at the hotel two weeks ago. "Please let me go!" "SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU FAGGOT," Mr. Parker roared and threw Lashley down hard against the ground. The smaller roo crashed into two chairs that were pushed up against the dining room table, making him yelp and tuck his hurt wrist against his body. Hunched in a ball, Lashley whimpered under his towering father. "No son of mine will be gay and let the world know!" With that, Mr. Parker leaned over and struck Lashley's muzzle with his paw bluntly, causing him to yelp loudly again at the blow and clutch his cheek with his other paw. Mr. Parker reached down to pick up the dropped phone, grabbed Lashley's muzzle and held it shut as he brought the phone down on the back of Lashley's head. The kangaroo gave out a shrill yipe before his body went limp as he was knocked out cold. Craig Parker stood up and ran both paws through his headfur, smoothing it out. He breathed in deeply and turned around, walking back into the kitchen where he returned the phone to the receiver. He took one last glance at his unconscious son who remained motionless under the dining room table. How could his son be gay? Hadn't he raised him up properly? Joseph had turned out alright in the end. Craig sighed and picked up the phone and began dialing numbers rapidlyâ€"it was time to take extreme precautions. *** Mr. Monroe locked the door behind them while Linkin walked across the front lawn to the minivan. Maxwell was already buckled in his seat and deeply immersed in a game on his Nintendo DSi. In front of Maxwell, Michelle sat on the front seat, resting her elbow on the window sill and staring at the house one last time. Linkin opened the side door and climbed in, picking up his messenger bag that was on his seat and set it on top of his suitcase. He pressed a button and the automated door closed itself behind him. He sighed loudly as Mr. Monroe walked down the driveway, grinning widely as he climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. "Wave goodbye to our old house," he waved, always grinning as he stepped on the accelerator. Linkin looked the opposite direction, across the street at his neighbor's house and slightly green lawn. Maxwell ignored his father as he completed level 23 on his game with a triumphant whoop, and Mrs. Monroe exhaled an exasperating whine through her nose and looked ahead. After five minutes with the only sound of Maxwell tapping the screen of his DSi repeatedly with the stylus in his paw, Linkin reached into his bag and retrieved the iPod Touch and turned it on. He grumbled when he saw that the battery was partly dead. He reached into the messenger bag again and pulled out a car charger for the iPod and plugged it into the car electric outlet. After hooking the flat rectangular mp3 player to it, he slid his finger across the unlock bar and stuck the white headphones in his ears and began to listen to a song by the Zebrahead. He folded his arms, closed his eyes and his muzzle and rested his head back against the headrest. Linkin was utterly silent the entire six hour trip to their new home. He had stopped listening to his iPod when he began to feel a little drowsy. But the oncoming nap was interrupted by the thunderous shouting of Mr. Monroe as the car swerved violently to the right as he dodged a reckless driver and spilt the chocolate shake on his lap and seat. Linkin chuckled a little as he peeked his eyes open a slit and shut it again, smiling to himself as he heard his father badmouth the other driver only to have his step-mother correcting his language. "Linkin," he heard someone say his name, beckoning him from his sleep. A paw was clutching his knee, shaking him awake. "Wake up!" He yawned while he stretched his arms out and blinked as sunlight peeked through the clouds, sending several streams of bright light through the window and into his eyes. The light continued to grow even brighter as the clouds parted, forcing him to shift a little to the left. "Wha' is it?" he muttered as he rubbed his eyes. "Look out of your brother's window," he heard Michelle's sharp voice jump a little with excitement. He blinked once more and leaned over Maxwell to get a better glimpse of the scenery outside. He gapped at the sight of a luxury car dealership, which flashed by as they drove by a massive mall. After a couple of minutes of driving past the mall, they found themselves staring out into a vast valley that was dotted with houses and buildings. A large canal etched itself through the center of the valley. An eye-catching bridge draped itself across the water. "We get off at this exit John," Michelle instructed John, who was still driving. "I know, I know," John replied as he flicked the blinker signal and began to merge onto the exit ramp. "Where are we?" Linkin asked, hardly believing that this is where they would be moving to. "This is our new home, Linkin," Michelle replied, looking back and smiling at Linkin, then returned her gaze to her husband. "Remember, the neighborhood we live in is called Stonebridge Estates." "I figured that much," Linkin muttered nonchalantly, as the car came to a halt at a stop sign. Mr. Monroe looked to the left before he turned right and drove down an avenue that was lined on both sides of the road with elm trees, their branches trimmed neat and tidy. The leaves of the trees were several shades of green, the bark was light gray. The houses that stood beyond the row of trees gave the appearance of mansions. The houses were seemed interminable, hundreds upon thousands of first-class homes. Linkin noted that most of all of the houses had a pool. Mr. Monroe turned again, and pulled up to a gated complex that was surrounded by a wall. After passing the security check-in, the gate parted and he stepped on the gas and pulled into Stonebridge Estates. The houses all looked the same to Linkin, although each design was different. They were big, deluxe-like. Fancy luxury cars ranging from Corvettes to Lamborghinis to Ferraris to Cayennes to Lotus' even custom made vehicles would be occasionally spotted on a driveway, if they weren't hiding inside the three-door garages. "Wow, Dad," Linkin said, feigning amazement, although inside he pleaded for his old neighborhood and house. "It's really something." "Don't thank me yet," Mr. Monroe chuckled as he turned down another street, then made a quick left as he pulled up into a driveway which ended up as a roundabout. "Here we are," he grinned, smiling as he looked at the mansion in front of them. "456 Emerald Boulevard, our new house." "More like a castle," Maxwell breathed, open jawed. He opened the car door and jumped out. He stretched and yawned as he gaped at the house. "Oh my Goâ€"" "MAXWELL!" Michelle screeched as she opened the door, glaring at the young pup. "Don't you dare use the Lord's name in vain!" "â€"osh..." Maxwell finished the sentence, cringing as his shoulders slumped and ducked his head as he kicked his shoes off and ran across the artificial green grass, laughing as the blades of grass tickled the pads of his feet. Linkin opened his door, dipping his head down as hefted his messenger bag over his shoulder. His pricked ears were smooshed under the shoulder strap but popped back up into place as he slid off the backseat. "I call dibs on the first room," he muttered as he passed Mr. Monroe who stood on the driveway, paws contently on his hips as he looked at the house. "Just make sure it's not the master bedroom!" Mr. Monroe said as he tossed Linkin a house key, who caught it deftly in his open paw. Maxwell came running up to them as Linkin jingled the keys in his face. "I called dibs first!" He laughed in Maxwell's face before he streaked off to the front door. He unlocked it and shut it quickly, locking it just as Maxwell reached for the doorknob. "Dad!" the young dobie pup whined loudly as he jiggled the brass handle. Mr. Monroe chuckled. "Sorry son, I have to help the movers unload to put the furniture inside." The movers were already unpacking the moving van by that time. Mr. Monroe opened the garage door closest to the side door and told them to listen to the Mrs. as to where she wanted the furniture. After Linkin had chosen his room he ran down the long curved staircase to the great entrance hall, the steps polished oak wood glistened and smelled of a fresh springy scent. The house was enormous, and Linkin was sure someone could get lost inside of it. He went to the minivan and carried his suitcase in to his new bedroom. He had found the one that was just right, not too big and not to small. There were two wide panel windows across from the bedroom door. The carpet was light blue, and it was plush to the touch. There was a walk-in bathroom to the left of the bedroom door, with pale tan stone walls and tiles. He stepped underneath the arch that was built to separate the bedroom from the bathroom, sliding his feet over the tile, his claws skittered loudly across it. He turned around, grinning; his mood somewhat improved. Hours later every room in the house was filled with piles of boxes and miscellaneous furniture in the wrong places. An exhausted Linkin collapsed on the couch in the kitchen and reached into his pocket, retrieving his cell phone. There were twelve new text messages, all of them from old friends who said goodbye. "Linkin?" he heard Michelle say behind him. He didn't bother looking back at her as he held his open phone in his paw. "It's about time you went upstairs for bed, don't you think? You have school next week and you need to do some shopping for new things starting tomorrow." Linkin groaned as he closed the cell phone and stuffed it into his pocket before pulling himself halfheartedly up from off of the sofa and dragged his feet out of the kitchen, through the hallway, up the staircase, and into his bedroom, which was overcrowded with boxes. He found the mattress that would serve as his bed until the frame was assembled, some books and CDs scattered on top. He brushed them off as he stripped down to his black velvety boxers and with a depressed sigh, fell backwards onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling fan and watched it go round and round until his drooping eyes closed shut as he uttered one last sentence under his breath before sleep set in. "Lashley...wherever you are right now...I love you..."