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This whole story will feature human and furry characters, a few of which are not of my creation, including Teej Rath (from https://www.furaffinity.net/user/cucumbanare/ ), Jayson Morle (from https://www.furaffinity.net/user/isaiah ) and finally Exile (from https://www.furaffinity.net/user/davidbowie ).

This outta be a pretty cool story ;D Keep your eye on this one if you like reading about social changes. Part of Chapter 1 for now since I'm currently not very good at directing my work ethic towards writing. Plus I'm super busy with school! Education can be a real bitch D:

Enjoy! <3", "writing": "The little box-like alarm clock burned 4:29 in the wide basement. The room was rectangular in shape and furnished with a very comfortable white carpet and navy blue walls. Everything was still and dark in the room, but one could see just fine, given the tiny ray of light lighting up the large room. On the other side of the room was a plain wall with no furniture near it, but a door stood innocently off to the side against one of the room’s longer walls. Next to the only door in the room sat a rather large, grand Marshall amp. A guitar stand stood off to the side of the amp, a Gibson Les Paul Custom sat comfortably in its cradle. Another smaller and more portable amp, and a pedal or two littered the ground, picks all around.\n\nIn the corner next to the guitar set up was an entertainment area with a flat screen, LCD TV, DVR, Stereo system with the speakers strewn throughout the room and drilled into the upper corners of the walls, and an Xbox 360 Elite. Past the only window was a cozy-looking coffee table littered with random items of a wide variety - soda, magazines, guitar strings, picks, an ash tray, and empty condom wrappers. Around the table were situated some old, red, but very comfortable sofas, positioned at a right angle against the opposing maple-wood desk. A massive American flag was pinned up along the wall seemed to loom over the entertainment area, giving it a patriotic flair.\n\nOn the desk itself was a simple, black and red laptop, closed and patiently charging, waiting for its next late-night bought of downloading porn, tabs, and music. The hefty bed next to the desk was occupied, of course. The blanket was drawn almost all the way up to the top of the occupant’s head. Poking above the hem were a pair of pointed, triangular and black wolf ears, a healthy layer of black and gold hair nestled between them.\n\nThe person stirred a bit, his mind fighting to stay asleep while his body fought to wake up. A second passed. Two seconds. Five. Fifteen. Thirty. The alarm clock turned 4:30, and a loud, obnoxious buzzing filled the room. The wolf’s brow furrowed. His mind fought harder to stay asleep, to no avail. He half awoke, the blanket warped as the warm body beneath it moved. A long, black-furred and very muscular arm emerged from the side of the blanket, big hand groping past a tissue box, a cell phone, more condom wrappers, more guitar picks, finally finding the alarm clock, and shutting it off. The wolf’s brow relaxed, and he smiled underneath the blanket, his arm retracting back into the bed’s warm depths to continue sleeping.\n\nAll was still in the room again. The phone buzzed a couple times, the first of many text messages coming in, doing nothing to disturb the snoozing wolf. So warm, so content, so care-free. An hour flew past in a heartbeat, and the singular ray of light slide closer and closer to the bed, and at 5:34 in the morning, the light slide over the handsome canine face of Christopher James Legend.\n\nAgain, his brow furrowed, and his mind half-slipped into consciousness, just enough to discern what day it was and if he needed to get up or if he could sleep in some more.\n\nYesterday he had school. Yesterday was Monday, that meant today was Tuesday. Which meant he had school today, which meant he had to wake up. With this in mind, he allowed his mind to cross the threshold into consciousness. Slowly, he half opened one eye, the sunlight seemed to fill his eyes with the same warm, golden glow. Indeed, his irises had the same golden, glorious luster as the sun. Having perceived that morning had arrived, Chris lazily raised his wolf-like head from his pillow and looked up at the clock.\n\n5:35. School started twenty past seven. Propping himself on his elbows, Chris rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and looked at the clock again to make sure that the time was still there. 5:36. The black wolf picked up his phone and rolled onto his back, flipping it open to check his messages.\n\nFour new messages.\n\nFrom Taylor:\n\n-Hey,I had a lot of fun the other night. ;D Wanna do it again some time?\n\nChris smirked mischievously and started typing.\n\n-Sure thing love, just not tonight – I’ve got rehearsal with the band. But yeah, definitely ;] I’m bringing the rubbers next time though lol. I thought I was gonna tear the one you gave me haha.\n\nChris hit “send” and moved onto the next message.\n\nFrom Whorebag:\n\n-omg did you really fuck taylor?\n\nChris chuckled a bit.\n\n-Yup! She’s fucking hot. <3\n\nNext message.\n\nFrom Sarah\n\n-Chrisss. Taylor says you’re huge. How huge? ;]\n\nChris chuckled some more.\n\n-You want pics or number of inches?\n\n‘Can’t wait to see how she’ll react to that.’ Chris thought. Next message.\n\nFrom Zack:\n\n-dude I totally forgot do we have rehearsal today?\n\n-Yes Zack, we have rehearsal today :P Do you want me to write it down for you? Lmao.\n\nBy this time Chris had a few more messages, mostly from girls asking about the size of his penis, but he had a few things to take care of first. He finished typing his last message to Zack, and put his phone back on the desk next to his bed. Now more awake than ever, Chris threw off the sheets from his body, and swung his strong legs over the side of the bed, planting his big feet firmly on the ground. Wiggling his toes a bit, he took a second to get used to the colder air, raising his hackles a bit to stretch them, and then stood his great body up.\n\nDressed in nothing but boxers, Chris’s powerful body was in almost full view. At least six feet tall and almost every of his hundred and eighty five pounds being pure muscle, the black wolf was certainly rather large for his age of eighteen. Big feet, strong, enduring legs, with round thighs leading to thin, attractive hips. His core was solid, with a definitive six-pack abs visible through his black fur. A big, defined and square chest held together round shoulders, massive biceps, thick forearms and large hands.\n\nIf there was ever a word for Chris, it would be “big”.\n\nWrapped in a decent layer of all-black fur, the pure wolf had to do little to fight off the cold. Chris had allowed his hair to come down to about his bottom jaw line, all of his long and naturally straight hair stopped at this length, and he had it parted down the middle so he could see past his bangs. To make it more vibrant and interesting to look at, Chris had his hair dyed with vertical golden blonde streaks into his hair, in an alternating pattern of black, gold, black, gold, all the way around his head.\n\nIf there was ever another word for Chris, it would probably be “sexy”.\n\nHe reached up with his big hands, running his fingers through this clean and organized hair, scratching his scalp. He then combed his hair with his fingers, connecting them as they left his hair and turning his palms towards the ceiling, reaching with arms and standing on the tips of his toes, stretching every inch of his powerful body. His long tail curled and stretched as well, and then he opened his jaws to lease a long, lazy yawn.\n\nHaving completed this stretch, he brought his hands behind his head, flexing his immense biceps and curling his back in a different stretch, thrusting out his large chest and filling it with air. Bones cracked, tendons popped satisfyingly, and Chris exhaled, releasing his body. He was ready to move.\n\nSmiling contentedly, he took his phone which buzzed again and again, and meandered over to his bedroom door. Opening it, he walked into a small halfway with a flight of stairs leading up into the main hallway. He walked past these steps, across the small distance to another door leading into what primarily was the laundry room, with another door leading to the bathroom. He walked into this bathroom, and stood in front of the full body mirror mounted on the wall, and he smiled.\n\n‘Still good lookin’.’ \n\nHe opened his phone to look at the messages, and Sarah had replied to his question:\n\n-omg really? how bout both?\n\nChris thought for a second. The wolf was absolutely no stranger to the warmth of a woman’s skin, and there were nude pictures of him circulating the internet and the texting network of a lot of girls at his school. He wasn’t afraid to show what he had, and he resolved that one more wouldn’t hurt.\n\nHe grabbed a ruler, tugged down his underwear, snapped a pic, and sent the picture with a number.\n\nHe let his boxers fall to the floor, flicking them into a corner and set his phone and the ruler down near the sink, and then turned on the shower. While he waited for the water to warm up, he bounced messages back and forth with Sarah, reassuring her that he was indeed not faking the picture, and even invited her to measure him herself. From the way she replied, it sounded like she wanted a lot more than just a measuring.\n\n“Looks like it’s going to be a very busy week.” he mumbled with a happy smile and set his phone down, stepping into the shower.\n\nIt was almost six when Chris walked back into his bedroom, drying his hair. He threw on some boxers, slipping into some jeans he had picked up off the floor, feeling his iTouch and wallet fill out in his pockets. Tugging his tail out through the hole in the back and fastening the belt, Chris started rummaging around his room, looking for a shirt. He picked up some, thought about how they looked or when he wore it or when he was going to wear it. He searched through graphic tees, band shirts, college-humor shirts. Chris had quite a collection. Yawning, he picked up a blink-182 shirt and was suddenly sorely tempted to wear it. He stood there with it at arms length, his face demonstrating how hard his brain was working as he tried to decide if it was too early in the week to wear such an awesome shirt.\n\nEventually he just threw it on his bed, resolving he couldn’t decide at the moment. Chris applied some roll-on deodorant, and then picked up another shirt, a grey one with MARINES printed in bold black letters. Chris wagged and smiled, and pulled it on, feeling it hug his chest and arms, but remaining a little looser around his stomach. He’d wear the Blink shirt tomorrow.\n\nHe checked the time – 6:12. He had to pick up Teej at 6:30 if he wanted to get to school on time to hang out a bit with friends and still get to class on time. Chris’s golden eyes wandered over to his beloved guitar, and as he put on his black and white Vans, he thought about if he had enough time to riff a little bit. Considering he had Jazz Literature during class today as well as band practice after school, there would be plenty of opportunities to play today. The wolf shrugged and decided to play anyway. No harm in warming up a little bit now, right?\n\nChris picked up his Gibson by the neck as he sat down in his chair, crossing one foot under his knee. Then, he turned on his amp, switching to clean tone with low volume – he didn’t want to disturb his mother who was probably still sleeping from working last night.\n\nA variety of notes soon started flowing from the square box – low and warm chords, angelic melodies, agile triplets, some bluesy riffs, anything that could come out of Chris’s brain that sounded good to him. He loved his Gibson immensely; given a glossy black finish with golden binding, some joked that he merely picked the guitar because it matched Chris, but whether he picked it for aesthetics or history, Chris could play it well.\n\nChris had been playing guitar as long as he could remember. In fact, he remembered the very first day he picked up a guitar, when his mother brought him to the pawn shop when he was only three. His mom, fresh out of a divorce had found herself with a low-paying job, a three-year-old son that needed to be fed, and only very recently got a roof over their heads in the form of a tiny two-bedroom house. Michelle Legend also found herself in need of pots and pans, and with little money to spare, she hit the thrift store in the hopes of finding a low price.\n\nThree-year-old Chris was allowed to wander the store while his mom haggled. The little wolf walked down the aisles of junk, quietly in awe of the variety of stuff that could be crammed into one space. Sewing machines, books, old clothes, rotten antiques and disgusting furniture. Surf boards, skateboards, snowboards, chess boards, roller blades, ice skates, cutlery, china, toys. Everything one could possibly need in a desperate situation was there.\n\nAnd then the little boy stumbled across the instruments. Despite having a wide selection from pianos, saxophones, snare drums, to xylophones, clarinets, flutes, trumpets, and tubas, there weren’t many guitars there. Except the one, the only one acoustic. A simple, clean six-string with the usually tan wood color.\n\nChris was curious. The little wolf knew that this was an object that made sounds – very popular sounds in fact. He knew it was called a guitar, but he didn’t know how it worked. He reached up and carefully took the guitar off the wall’s cradle, and then sat down, cross-legged on the linoleum floor. With his back against the wall, Chris sat the guitar with the back of the body on his lap, the steel strings facing up. His small hands traveled the length of the strings, feeling their coarse steel texture, and pushing down on the cables. The tip of his little tail flicked to and fro, fascinated at how they bent to his fingers. Noticing the sound hole, Chris hooked his short claw-nail onto the low E string, and plucked.\n\nDespite being out of tune, a low, warm tone resonated from the guitar. Chris’s acute ears twitched and twisted with sudden interest. He plucked the string again, and smiled joyfully as the warm sound washed over his senses again. He got up and ran to his mother, begging her to buy it for him.\n\nThe very same guitar sat in its cradle now, next to the Gibson’s traditional cradle. Chris glanced at the clock – 6:21. Time to go. The wolf shut off his amp and packed up his Les Paul, grabbing his backpack as he went out his bedroom. Up the stairs and through the door, he entered the main hallway. Hearing movement in the kitchen, the teen smiled and wandered down the hall. Chris spotted his mother at the stove, frying an egg for breakfast.\n\nA worn and tired woman, Michelle Legend’s youth had long since left her, more in spirit than her looks. Even at the age of 32, she still looked remarkably young. Not so much now, as she stood hunched over as if to protect herself from a draft. She sniffed, and groaned. Looked like she had a really big headache from the night before.\n\n“Heeey Mom” Chris called gently, standing in the doorway. She turned her dejected eyes towards her son, and smiled warmly. She extended her arms for a hug, and Chris strode over, hugging her tightly. He could easily sense she was especially tired this morning, and he rubbed her back, humming “Have a nice day…” She hummed her affirmative reply, and Chris went back into the hall to grab his bags and then walked out towards the garage.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "The little box-like alarm clock burned 4:29 in the wide basement. The room was rectangular in shape and furnished with a very comfortable white carpet and navy blue walls. Everything was still and dark in the room, but one could see just fine, given the tiny ray of light lighting up the large room. On the other side of the room was a plain wall with no furniture near it, but a door stood innocently off to the side against one of the room’s longer walls. Next to the only door in the room sat a rather large, grand Marshall amp. A guitar stand stood off to the side of the amp, a Gibson Les Paul Custom sat comfortably in its cradle. Another smaller and more portable amp, and a pedal or two littered the ground, picks all around.

In the corner next to the guitar set up was an entertainment area with a flat screen, LCD TV, DVR, Stereo system with the speakers strewn throughout the room and drilled into the upper corners of the walls, and an Xbox 360 Elite. Past the only window was a cozy-looking coffee table littered with random items of a wide variety - soda, magazines, guitar strings, picks, an ash tray, and empty condom wrappers. Around the table were situated some old, red, but very comfortable sofas, positioned at a right angle against the opposing maple-wood desk. A massive American flag was pinned up along the wall seemed to loom over the entertainment area, giving it a patriotic flair.

On the desk itself was a simple, black and red laptop, closed and patiently charging, waiting for its next late-night bought of downloading porn, tabs, and music. The hefty bed next to the desk was occupied, of course. The blanket was drawn almost all the way up to the top of the occupant’s head. Poking above the hem were a pair of pointed, triangular and black wolf ears, a healthy layer of black and gold hair nestled between them.

The person stirred a bit, his mind fighting to stay asleep while his body fought to wake up. A second passed. Two seconds. Five. Fifteen. Thirty. The alarm clock turned 4:30, and a loud, obnoxious buzzing filled the room. The wolf’s brow furrowed. His mind fought harder to stay asleep, to no avail. He half awoke, the blanket warped as the warm body beneath it moved. A long, black-furred and very muscular arm emerged from the side of the blanket, big hand groping past a tissue box, a cell phone, more condom wrappers, more guitar picks, finally finding the alarm clock, and shutting it off. The wolf’s brow relaxed, and he smiled underneath the blanket, his arm retracting back into the bed’s warm depths to continue sleeping.

All was still in the room again. The phone buzzed a couple times, the first of many text messages coming in, doing nothing to disturb the snoozing wolf. So warm, so content, so care-free. An hour flew past in a heartbeat, and the singular ray of light slide closer and closer to the bed, and at 5:34 in the morning, the light slide over the handsome canine face of Christopher James Legend.

Again, his brow furrowed, and his mind half-slipped into consciousness, just enough to discern what day it was and if he needed to get up or if he could sleep in some more.

Yesterday he had school. Yesterday was Monday, that meant today was Tuesday. Which meant he had school today, which meant he had to wake up. With this in mind, he allowed his mind to cross the threshold into consciousness. Slowly, he half opened one eye, the sunlight seemed to fill his eyes with the same warm, golden glow. Indeed, his irises had the same golden, glorious luster as the sun. Having perceived that morning had arrived, Chris lazily raised his wolf-like head from his pillow and looked up at the clock.

5:35. School started twenty past seven. Propping himself on his elbows, Chris rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and looked at the clock again to make sure that the time was still there. 5:36. The black wolf picked up his phone and rolled onto his back, flipping it open to check his messages.

Four new messages.

From Taylor:

-Hey,I had a lot of fun the other night. ;D Wanna do it again some time?

Chris smirked mischievously and started typing.

-Sure thing love, just not tonight – I’ve got rehearsal with the band. But yeah, definitely ;] I’m bringing the rubbers next time though lol. I thought I was gonna tear the one you gave me haha.

Chris hit “send” and moved onto the next message.

From Whorebag:

-omg did you really fuck taylor?

Chris chuckled a bit.

-Yup! She’s fucking hot. <3

Next message.

From Sarah

-Chrisss. Taylor says you’re huge. How huge? ;]

Chris chuckled some more.

-You want pics or number of inches?

‘Can’t wait to see how she’ll react to that.’ Chris thought. Next message.

From Zack:

-dude I totally forgot do we have rehearsal today?

-Yes Zack, we have rehearsal today :P Do you want me to write it down for you? Lmao.

By this time Chris had a few more messages, mostly from girls asking about the size of his penis, but he had a few things to take care of first. He finished typing his last message to Zack, and put his phone back on the desk next to his bed. Now more awake than ever, Chris threw off the sheets from his body, and swung his strong legs over the side of the bed, planting his big feet firmly on the ground. Wiggling his toes a bit, he took a second to get used to the colder air, raising his hackles a bit to stretch them, and then stood his great body up.

Dressed in nothing but boxers, Chris’s powerful body was in almost full view. At least six feet tall and almost every of his hundred and eighty five pounds being pure muscle, the black wolf was certainly rather large for his age of eighteen. Big feet, strong, enduring legs, with round thighs leading to thin, attractive hips. His core was solid, with a definitive six-pack abs visible through his black fur. A big, defined and square chest held together round shoulders, massive biceps, thick forearms and large hands.

If there was ever a word for Chris, it would be “big”.

Wrapped in a decent layer of all-black fur, the pure wolf had to do little to fight off the cold. Chris had allowed his hair to come down to about his bottom jaw line, all of his long and naturally straight hair stopped at this length, and he had it parted down the middle so he could see past his bangs. To make it more vibrant and interesting to look at, Chris had his hair dyed with vertical golden blonde streaks into his hair, in an alternating pattern of black, gold, black, gold, all the way around his head.

If there was ever another word for Chris, it would probably be “sexy”.

He reached up with his big hands, running his fingers through this clean and organized hair, scratching his scalp. He then combed his hair with his fingers, connecting them as they left his hair and turning his palms towards the ceiling, reaching with arms and standing on the tips of his toes, stretching every inch of his powerful body. His long tail curled and stretched as well, and then he opened his jaws to lease a long, lazy yawn.

Having completed this stretch, he brought his hands behind his head, flexing his immense biceps and curling his back in a different stretch, thrusting out his large chest and filling it with air. Bones cracked, tendons popped satisfyingly, and Chris exhaled, releasing his body. He was ready to move.

Smiling contentedly, he took his phone which buzzed again and again, and meandered over to his bedroom door. Opening it, he walked into a small halfway with a flight of stairs leading up into the main hallway. He walked past these steps, across the small distance to another door leading into what primarily was the laundry room, with another door leading to the bathroom. He walked into this bathroom, and stood in front of the full body mirror mounted on the wall, and he smiled.

‘Still good lookin’.’

He opened his phone to look at the messages, and Sarah had replied to his question:

-omg really? how bout both?

Chris thought for a second. The wolf was absolutely no stranger to the warmth of a woman’s skin, and there were nude pictures of him circulating the internet and the texting network of a lot of girls at his school. He wasn’t afraid to show what he had, and he resolved that one more wouldn’t hurt.

He grabbed a ruler, tugged down his underwear, snapped a pic, and sent the picture with a number.

He let his boxers fall to the floor, flicking them into a corner and set his phone and the ruler down near the sink, and then turned on the shower. While he waited for the water to warm up, he bounced messages back and forth with Sarah, reassuring her that he was indeed not faking the picture, and even invited her to measure him herself. From the way she replied, it sounded like she wanted a lot more than just a measuring.

“Looks like it’s going to be a very busy week.” he mumbled with a happy smile and set his phone down, stepping into the shower.

It was almost six when Chris walked back into his bedroom, drying his hair. He threw on some boxers, slipping into some jeans he had picked up off the floor, feeling his iTouch and wallet fill out in his pockets. Tugging his tail out through the hole in the back and fastening the belt, Chris started rummaging around his room, looking for a shirt. He picked up some, thought about how they looked or when he wore it or when he was going to wear it. He searched through graphic tees, band shirts, college-humor shirts. Chris had quite a collection. Yawning, he picked up a blink-182 shirt and was suddenly sorely tempted to wear it. He stood there with it at arms length, his face demonstrating how hard his brain was working as he tried to decide if it was too early in the week to wear such an awesome shirt.

Eventually he just threw it on his bed, resolving he couldn’t decide at the moment. Chris applied some roll-on deodorant, and then picked up another shirt, a grey one with MARINES printed in bold black letters. Chris wagged and smiled, and pulled it on, feeling it hug his chest and arms, but remaining a little looser around his stomach. He’d wear the Blink shirt tomorrow.

He checked the time – 6:12. He had to pick up Teej at 6:30 if he wanted to get to school on time to hang out a bit with friends and still get to class on time. Chris’s golden eyes wandered over to his beloved guitar, and as he put on his black and white Vans, he thought about if he had enough time to riff a little bit. Considering he had Jazz Literature during class today as well as band practice after school, there would be plenty of opportunities to play today. The wolf shrugged and decided to play anyway. No harm in warming up a little bit now, right?

Chris picked up his Gibson by the neck as he sat down in his chair, crossing one foot under his knee. Then, he turned on his amp, switching to clean tone with low volume – he didn’t want to disturb his mother who was probably still sleeping from working last night.

A variety of notes soon started flowing from the square box – low and warm chords, angelic melodies, agile triplets, some bluesy riffs, anything that could come out of Chris’s brain that sounded good to him. He loved his Gibson immensely; given a glossy black finish with golden binding, some joked that he merely picked the guitar because it matched Chris, but whether he picked it for aesthetics or history, Chris could play it well.

Chris had been playing guitar as long as he could remember. In fact, he remembered the very first day he picked up a guitar, when his mother brought him to the pawn shop when he was only three. His mom, fresh out of a divorce had found herself with a low-paying job, a three-year-old son that needed to be fed, and only very recently got a roof over their heads in the form of a tiny two-bedroom house. Michelle Legend also found herself in need of pots and pans, and with little money to spare, she hit the thrift store in the hopes of finding a low price.

Three-year-old Chris was allowed to wander the store while his mom haggled. The little wolf walked down the aisles of junk, quietly in awe of the variety of stuff that could be crammed into one space. Sewing machines, books, old clothes, rotten antiques and disgusting furniture. Surf boards, skateboards, snowboards, chess boards, roller blades, ice skates, cutlery, china, toys. Everything one could possibly need in a desperate situation was there.

And then the little boy stumbled across the instruments. Despite having a wide selection from pianos, saxophones, snare drums, to xylophones, clarinets, flutes, trumpets, and tubas, there weren’t many guitars there. Except the one, the only one acoustic. A simple, clean six-string with the usually tan wood color.

Chris was curious. The little wolf knew that this was an object that made sounds – very popular sounds in fact. He knew it was called a guitar, but he didn’t know how it worked. He reached up and carefully took the guitar off the wall’s cradle, and then sat down, cross-legged on the linoleum floor. With his back against the wall, Chris sat the guitar with the back of the body on his lap, the steel strings facing up. His small hands traveled the length of the strings, feeling their coarse steel texture, and pushing down on the cables. The tip of his little tail flicked to and fro, fascinated at how they bent to his fingers. Noticing the sound hole, Chris hooked his short claw-nail onto the low E string, and plucked.

Despite being out of tune, a low, warm tone resonated from the guitar. Chris’s acute ears twitched and twisted with sudden interest. He plucked the string again, and smiled joyfully as the warm sound washed over his senses again. He got up and ran to his mother, begging her to buy it for him.

The very same guitar sat in its cradle now, next to the Gibson’s traditional cradle. Chris glanced at the clock – 6:21. Time to go. The wolf shut off his amp and packed up his Les Paul, grabbing his backpack as he went out his bedroom. Up the stairs and through the door, he entered the main hallway. Hearing movement in the kitchen, the teen smiled and wandered down the hall. Chris spotted his mother at the stove, frying an egg for breakfast.

A worn and tired woman, Michelle Legend’s youth had long since left her, more in spirit than her looks. Even at the age of 32, she still looked remarkably young. Not so much now, as she stood hunched over as if to protect herself from a draft. She sniffed, and groaned. Looked like she had a really big headache from the night before.

“Heeey Mom” Chris called gently, standing in the doorway. She turned her dejected eyes towards her son, and smiled warmly. She extended her arms for a hug, and Chris strode over, hugging her tightly. He could easily sense she was especially tired this morning, and he rubbed her back, humming “Have a nice day…” She hummed her affirmative reply, and Chris went back into the hall to grab his bags and then walked out towards the garage.", "pools_count": 1, "title": "Captain Ken - Ch 1 Pt 1", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "application/msword", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "1", "rating_name": "Mature", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "2", "name": "Nudity", "description": "Nonsexual nudity exposing breasts or genitals (must not show arousal)", "rating_id": "1" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "37" }