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and \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
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\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tAstia\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t		\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tAstia\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
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Astia is a once-promising racing driver, whose career has seemingly stagnated. He is bored in a hotel room after the final race of the season, and decides to go and grab a drink to drown his sorrows. What follows is an interesting meeting, which soon escalates to entirely different levels...

","writing":"[center][u][i][b]Prelude[/b][/i][/u][/center]\n\n\n Times change.\n\n Society at large has adapted fairly quickly to a whole different era. Gone are the days of so-called \"simple life\", where one could reasonably expect to live their life without travelling past the horizon. Indeed, travel and innovation has allowed us to experience an existence far beyond the dreams of our ancestors. The four elements finally joined together in the loud, cacophonic harmony of fire invading land, water and air alike. It transformed our very existence. Yet few would foresee the scale of technological revolution that this brought upon us. \n\n Roof. It's something buildings tend to have. There are different types of roofs, but this one was quite ordinary – flat, white and filled with various equipment. Satellite dishes shared the space with large ventilation boxes and various other technical apparatus, necessary to maintain those luxuries that modern-day customers take for granted.\n\n Netherlands, as a western country, is no exception. Nor was this one particular person, residing precisely three floors below the main AC duct, blissingly unaware of the aforementioned fact and far more preoccupied with something similar. Something simple, at first glance, yet far more complex.\n\n White. Pure, save for a hint of grey, not unlike vast skies above the North Sea. Many a sailor have travelled the waves, seeking for various things: Fame, fortune, conquest. Times may change, but the nature of man remains. Always curious, seldom compromising, often ambitious.\n\n He was no exception.\n\n\n[center][u][i][b]Used to Feel Before[/b][/i][/u][/center]\n\n\n The ceiling reminded him of a distant memory. He had fever, and saw a ball of light enter from the bedroom window. It was pale blue, faintly lit and traveled fast, on and off between the edges of his vision. Gradually moving towards the middle, he was sure it was of alien origin. Spaceship, perhaps from the moon or even another planet. A remote galaxy, long way from ours, distances far beyond the comprehension of a mere child. Here to visit him, for an important mission or out of mere interest. As for their mission, he had no clue. \n\n Surroundings in the small, dimly-lit rooms were slowly melting, the images processed to his brain doubtfully originating from reality. A desperate call for help reached the ears of his mother, and the visitors from above quickly scattered away, being replaced by the assuring, kind eyes of the person he trusted more than anything else in this world. Soon, reality set in, and he eventually recovered, joining the gleeful playing of the young ones without a worry in the world.\n\n Joys of sport and play continued. His life was not exactly normal, yet fairly standard. He grew up to be a relatively well-mannered kid, but also one that would often dive into a challenge head-first. It was no surprise, then, that his later life saw him undertake various brave and often shortsighted tasks. Memories of those adventures have faded over time, yet the fever-induced visions of his early childhood remain so clear.\n\n Even those he wishes to forget. \n\n As much as he would've perhaps liked however, this was no bedroom. Sure, it had a soft and a very comfortable bed, and it definitely filled the criteria of a room. But instead of home, this was a hotel. It was a decent hotel by all means, but still a hotel. And as such, not something he would've liked to be in.\n\n The season had been long and frustrating. He didn't feel like he was getting anywhere, not with his development nor career. Both of those were currently stagnating, and he was no spring chicken. It had started promisingly enough with a string of solid finishes, but instead of taking the expected leap forward, the results regressed. And when that happens, one starts to doubt himself, questioning his ability and whether he was simply not good enough. In a sport where confidence is essential to achieve great results, this was an alarming development. Plus he had no contract for the following season, nor a clear idea of his future. \n\n Oh, if he could only return to the happy days. Where he didn't have to think about chassis adjustments, wing angles or performance delta. When he spent his time on computer either playing video games or looking at some rather questionable content. Now, the former means simulator training and latter is unexpected readings on telemetry data. His social circles have switched from naive kids and quirky teens to grey old men in three-piece suits, demanding PR-managers and often arrogant and cocky fellow drivers. It seemed like he was but a puppet, attached to strings and following a script. And about to be written out of his own story. Such is life. Even for a squirrel.\n\n\n[center][u][i][b]Time[/b][/i][/u][/center]\n\n\n Minutes turned into hours. Day was slowly turning into an evening. A quiet evening. Unsettlingly so.\n\n Holiday resorts can be like that once the season is over, and this was no exception. One of Netherlands' primary tourist destinations, Zandvoort lives and dies with the summer. The blue ocean, combined with mile after mile of fine sand creates a very southern atmosphere, only that the people are mostly Dutch natives. It was a reasonable distance away from Amsterdam, making it ideal for a different kind of a day trip than most tourists seek.\n\n Lack of choice isn't an issue when choosing a place to spend a night. From beach houses to fine five-star palaces and everything in between, there's something for everyone. Whether one was a backpacker or the most honorable of VIP quests, there would be a suitable accomodation.\n\n He wasn't sure where he belonged. Perhaps somewhere in the middle.\n\n Like many, he had originally travelled to the capital, but soon found himself bored amidst the pricey coffee shops and neon-lit windows. Not very familiar with rest of the country, he regardless cancelled his reservation and chose to jump into the first bus. \n\n Right now, that seemed like a good call. Gone were the crowds flocking among the canals and narrow streets, and it was replaced by the tasteful yet uninspiring bar. It felt very by the book, from the moderately warm lightning to the dark wooden drinks shelf and a matching counter. Off-white walls lined the space, which was designed less for intimate moments and more for private discussions after a business conference. \n\n Some mediocre pop music filled the otherwise silent seating area. Behind the counter, one bartender was cleaning one class, presumably for her one customer who was working on one drawing. Two hours and three cups of coffee later, she couldn't help but wonder if the male, at least he presumed so, was ever going to order anything else. If not, she might as well close the bar and head home, for it seemed people weren't exactly craving for a drink. \n\n Or if they were, they took their business elsewhere. Yet here she was, reading the same front page of an online tabloid for the fourth time. \n\n Soon, the male heard faint footsteps in distance. Like so many times before, he ignored them, for many people came and went. It was right next to the lobby, after all. But this time, the footsteps didn't originate from someone who had slept in or a hotel worker. And they came closer. And closer. Until they stopped.\n\n Squirrel paid him next to no attention, barely noting his presence. He seemed to be under the weather, and for a good reason. For him, this person sitting by the counter was but yet another tourist, and he was quite right in that. \n\n Immediately after approaching, the rodent attracted the attention of a bartender and her very polished customer service smile.\n\n \"Good evening sir, how may I help you?\", she quickly inquired.\n\n \"One beer, please\", came the reply, without missing a beat. \n\n \"Heineken? Amstel? Perhaps Grolsch would be of your fancy?\"\n\n \"A beer. Er, Amstel, just for change.\"\n\n \"Very well, sir. That'll be 6 euros and ninety-five cents, please.\" \n\n Six euros and ninety-five cents. That's seven euros. That is also an outrageous price for a beer, especially when you can get the same amount of the same liquid, plus a can to keep it in, for 1/8 of the prize. Quietly sighing, he reached for his right pocket, producing a mostly gray MasterCard and placing it in front of the small machine. Soon, a text confirming a successful transaction prompted the white-clad bartender to ask one more mandatory question of whether the squirrel wished to have a receipt of the payment.\n\n And after a negative answer, she returned to her scheduled frontpage-reading. For the fifth time. Soon realizing that there was pretty much nothing going on, she briefly glanced the small TV to her right, displaying various dull information and advertisements for local tourist traps.\n\n He took a quick look around, noticing that not only were the tables empty, but in fact he was alone in the bar. Well, mostly alone. There was this... person, for the lack of a better description, sitting by the counter and mostly focused on his papers. A checkered shirt in various shades of turquoise suited his fur nicely, but the most interesting feature was a sizeable fishtail, resting against the birch floor. He had long ears with round tufts on the end, and overall was smaller than the squirrel. By quite a bit. \n\n Curious, he sneaked a quick peek to their contents while strolling by. He was however quite taken aback from what he saw, for they were no ordinary papers, containing business briefs or printed sheets of powerpoint documents. No, they were, as a matter of fact... something far different. Another glance from further away proved that this was not a product of his imagination. \n\n He reached for his car keys in the left pocket, and somewhat hurriedly handed them to the bartender with instructions to leave them at reception.\n\n \"When I drink, I don't drive. And I think I need more than one\", he explained, managing a soft smile despite his dire mood.\n\n She nodded with a pseudo-surprised smile. \"Oh, how thoughtful of you, sir. May I have your name, please?\"\n\n As she glanced over the small display below the counter, he smiled, again. Her words had the effect she intended – a happy customer.\n\n \"Tuohenkolo. Er, Astia Tuohenkolo. Tee-Yu-Oh-Eizh-Ii-En...\"\n\n \"Oh, yes, here. Very well. You can collect these at noon tomorrow, not before midday. Give your room number and be sure to show your ID, as per protocol.\"\n\n \"Understood. Thank you.\" \n\n A nod later, he sat down, one seat away from his fellow customer and stealing a glance every now and then. \n\n He wanted to start a conversation, but was unsure of what he should say. \"Hello, I saw you drawing strong pornography\" seemed like a terrible introduction. So he simply dropped the descriptive part and went with that. \n\n The male quickly covered the paper with his paw, looking quite shocked. No wonder.\n\n \"E...eh? I... um...\"\n\n \"It's okay. I'm not a cop\", he smiled. \"Just bored. The name's Astia, by the way. I'm a racing driver.\" \n\n \"O..oh... PawKnight, but friends call me PK.\"\n\n Astia couldn't help but perk a brow. \n\n \"Huh. Well, nice to meet you. Is that your artist name or your real one?\"\n\n \"Yes.\"\n\n\n[center][u][i][b]Get Rid of Your Fear[/b][/i][/u][/center]\n\n\n Dutch twilight set in. Final, fainting rays of light flirted with the fine-grained sand as even the last of the seagulls scattered away. Gone was the bread and various other goods, so the birds had to settle for the fish in the sea.\n\n It was mostly empty. A man by his lonesome walked a small terrier along the slabs of concrete beside hay-covered banking. There were some couples, too, saying goodbye to the summer and stopping every once in a while for a quick display of affection. It was mostly silent, even the sea was calm.\n\n Save for those seagulls.\n\n Damn seagulls.\n\n \"...And, heh, you'll never guess what the engineer said? He, okay, bear with me here, he was suggesting that we stiffen up the rear rebound damping! Now, I've been driving for this team two years! Two goddamn years! They should now by now how I prefer my cars: Reactive, precise, fast at entry and stable on exit! And if I'm specifically complaining about understeer on corner entry, then-\"\n\n \"Astia.\"\n\n \"Hang on, as I was saying, I was specifically complaining about understeer on corner entry, and they were going to increase it! Even the mechanics agreed.\"\n\n \"That's nice. But honestly, I'm not very into racing\", PK said, lifting his beige jeans a little. \n\n \"But it's not just racing, it's a lifestyle! And I quite like it.\" \n\n He paused.\n\n \"Even if the future seems... bleak.\"\n\n Light was slowly fading as sun set below the wavy horizon. Only then did Astia note the seeming lack of illumination on the beach.\n\n \"Huh. It got dark all of sudden\", he said, stopping briefly. \n\n \"That's because you keep being such a downer! And that aside, I like it. It's beautiful. Kinda... romantic, almost.\"\n\n PK stopped, too, looking around and smiling.\n\n \"Shame you can't see the stars from here, despite your so-called lack of illumination.\"\n\n \"Oh pfft, there's one right before your eyes.\" He couldn't help but give a goofy grin and thumbs up. \n\n \"Ha, yeah. So, 'Mister Räikkönen', what did you like about my pictures, specifically?\n\n A moment of silence followed. Astia looked a little stunned, perhaps by PK:s sarcastic reference but most likely due to the swift change of subject. Either way, he stood there, mouth agape and thumbs still up.\n\n \"Well, I, um... Okay, I was bored, and may have glanced at them. But only glanced! And, um, I didn't even see them that well...\"\n\n PK couldn't help but smile, tad deviously.\n\n \"And would you like to, hm? There's some squirrels, too!\" \n\n \"I... Hey, what does my species have to do with this?\" \n\n Astia looked confused. Not the least because he still had his thumbs up. Goofy squirrel. PK, on the other hand, was now very much in charge of the conversation.\n\n \"Squirrels have cute tails. I like cute tails. So big and... fluffy!\" \n\n He reached for Astia's tail, and before the squirrel had chance to react, grabbed a firm hold. \n\n \"Got your tail! Ha! Now what are you going to do?\"\n\n Good question. Very good. In fact, he had no idea. \n\n \"...Ask you to give it back? Pretty please?\"\n\n PK laughed.\n\n \"Try harder.\"\n\n \"Okay... give me my tail back, please. It's, well, it's mine. And I don't remember giving you a permission to touch it in first place\", he said, slumbering with his words.\n\n \"I don't remember asking, silly. Now, would you like to see... my art?\"\n\n Astia sighed, realizing there was no point fighting back.\n\n \"...Yes. Please.\"\n\n\n[center][u][i][b]Shine On Me[/b][/i][/u][/center]\n\n\n It was warm, at least reasonably so. North wind blew from the sea, but it was not chilling. More like a whisper from a loved one. \n\n Astia and PK soon found a small hut, empty and left to wait for the next season. It had the convenience of a small floodlight, bright enough to provide considerable visiblity for the surrounding space. \n\n From his black messenger bag, PK produced an A4 notebook. It was equally black, and filled with white pages and various doodles. And drawings. Some were sketches, others more refined. He gave it to the squirrel, still holding the rodent's tail firmly as if he was taking him out for a walk. Astia promptly nodded and leaned against the railing, flipping pages and commenting on various points of interest, of which there were many.\n\n It also generated different sort of curiosity for him. Since many works featured the artist himself, he couldn't help but wonder if these were merely works of fiction after all.\n\n \"PK... Can I ask you something?\"\n\n \"Depends on the question, dear.\"\n\n Dear. This was new. Astia paused briefly, considering his options. Was this an elaborate ruse? Perhaps something by his team to get him out for next season? If the images of him merely browsing through such scandalous works were to spread, it would surely mean an end to his career before he even got close to the top.\n\n But ultimately, there were far too many variables for this to be anything more than a ridiculous gambit. And besides, the team seemed to like him, even if he was no pay driver and would be relied to produce results. Perhaps it was his personality, or they simply knew that the car wasn't good enough to succeed. The fact that he nearly always beat his team mate would support that theory.\n\n Furthermore, he wasn't under contract, so such a scheme wouldn't even be necessary, if they were to get rid of him. Maybe he's just paranoid. But it all seemed... too good to be true. \n\n He concluded that he's either dreaming or the universe is paying him back big time for his suffering. Either way, he didn't want to wake up any time soon, seeing the direction their meeting seemed to be going.\n\n \"Well, weren't you supposed to ask me something? Or did you get lost in your wicked fantasies...?\"\n\n \"I... Hey, look who's talking! Oh yes, I had a question: Are these, um, paid commission works of some sort, or could it be that your inspiration is... something more real?\"\n\n PK couldn't help but grin, still standing next to the squirrel and gently stroking his tail.\n\n \"And what if I'd say both?\"\n\n Astia flipped a page, and it was yet another rather luscious image of the artist. Previously he'd seen one where PK was apparently wearing an inflatable skirt of some sort, and next was something more... in-depth. As his mind wandered through the depictions of seemingly endless ways of enjoying oneself, he was slowly but surely starting to get the hint.\n\n \"Then I'd be more than happy to help.\"\n\n Beat.\n\n \"Ooh, and what exactly do you mean by that, hm?\" \n\nAstia blushed, turning to look towards PK, who in turn had adapted a rather wicked smile. And was still busy with the rodent's fluffy tail.\n\n \"I, uhm... You know what I mean, don't make me explain it.\"\n\n He flipped a page.\n\n \"Like this, here. It does feature a balloon and... Well, it seems like you're rather enjoying the whole ordeal. At least judging by your expression\", he said, smiling and pointing to the picture. \n\n \"Oh, I think I get what you mean, yes...\"\n\n PK stroke Astia's tail more playfully now, approaching the base. It started swinging in response. The squirrel laid the notebook to the railing. It was picked up by the wind, and dropped in front of him. He was kind enough to promptly reach for it.\n\n Big mistake.\n\n \"Gotcha!\", said PK excitedly and leaped on top of the squirrel.\n\n \"Wha, hey! That's not fair!\" Laying down, Astia had some considerable pressure on him. Despite his small stature, it seemed like PK could hold his own and then some.\n\n \"Anything's fair in love and war. Besides, you did offer your assistance! Are you not a squirrel of your word?\"\n\n Astia paused. Good question. He seemed to have knack for those tonight. \n\n \"I mean... I like to think I am. I've seldom broke a promise. But... Ah. I don't have any say in this, do I?\"\n\n PK got up, offering a paw and smiling softly.\n\n \"Oh don't be silly. Of course you have. Now, what kind of a skirt would you prefer?\"\n\n\n[center][u][i][b]Take You to Sweet Harmony[/b][/i][/u][/center]\n\n\n Red on the right. White to the left. And straight ahead, it was a mixture of black and blue. Rather cheap-looking curtains seemed to be there for very little reason, but were soon closed, as were most of the lights. Not that anyone would think to spy a very ordinary-looking room. \n\n Their loss.\n\n Astia kneeled, and was eye-to-eye with PK. He was on a short leash, literally. His short denims were tosses aside, as was his green polo shirt. They were replaced with a rather plain, red tulip-shaped skirt and a white top, far too tight to even close from the back. The zipper, therefore, was left mostly open.\n\n The outfit matched the right side of the room. It was as if they were tailor-made, or something that the hotel might have in stock. PK denied such frivolous accusations, claiming that he didn't plan on anything like this.\n\n Sure.\n\n \"So cute! Look at that! You look absolutely... adorable!\" \n\n PK was beaming, licking his lips at the sight of a tamed, rather feminine-appearing squirrel. Gone was the grumpy rodent who just wanted a drink. He not only had the firm hold of the leash, but had the larger male exactly where he wanted, on the floor, kneeling beside his naked figure.\n\n Astia looked down, but was quickly yanked. Eyes on the prize! \n\n \"I don't know why I agreed to this\", he sighed, looking quite embarassed.\n\n \"Because you like it, don't you? Kinky squirrel! And kinky squirrels must be punished!\n\n Astia facepawed, this time allowed to do so. \n\n \"...You just couldn't think of anything more original, could you? What's next, ask me if I'm hungry for some nuts?\"\n\n \"Well, are you?\"\n\n Astia paused. He dug his own hole there, this time figuratively.\n\n \"...I am a squirrel. Let's face it, I like nuts. But... mmmpf! Hrgh... Oh... Mmm.\"\n\n PK had finally managed to shut the squirrel up with a healthy dose of a cock to the face. It didn't take long for Astia to open up and take the offering. Despite appearing strictly professional and all that, it's not like he hasn't endulged in some oral favors before.\n\n \"Oh! Mm, well, that didn't take much coaxing, did it?\"\n\n Ignoring the teasing, Astia continued to enjoy his... meal. The intial push had taken him by surprise, but soon he was back on track. Pulling back, he grinned viciously. \n\n \"Pffft. You just got lucky\", he quipped, stroking the erect member and feasting his eyes on the sight. It was large, but not entirely unreasonable to take head-on. Just challenging. And he liked a good challenge.\n\n It didn't take long for the squirrel to lead the way. He leaned closer, slowly letting his tongue play over the tip. Just little touches, here and there, circulating around it. Wandering towards the base, only then did he notice some sort of a ring wrapped around the shaft. Smiling, he turned his attention towards the underside of his shaft, licking it all the way from the base to the tip, repeating the process a few times. And grinned.\n\n \"Saaaay, what is this\", he inquired with a teasing voice. \n\n PK was flushed, blushing despite knowing that the rodent would eventually see it.\n\n \"It's... Um, there to prevent leaking!\"\n\n Astia chuckled. \n\n \"Really? And does it work?\"\n\n He licked his way around, back towards the tip and stroke the erect, swollen member viciously. \n\n \"Ah... mm... Find out yourself... Aaahn...\"\n\n It didn't take much more for the squirrel to get serious. Grinning, he nodded and gulped down on the delicious, throbbing cock. It was rock-hard, swollen and... even larger than before. He wondered if he bit more than he can swallow, literally, as it pushed deeper into his mouth, and all he could do was try and not gag. \n\n PK, meanwhile, was already trembling and dangerously close to falling. On shaky ground, he gripped tight to the leash and spoke softly.\n\n \"G...good... boy... ahhh... take it! Deeper! Make me fall!\"\n\n Astia had long since closed his eyes. He wrapped his paws around the male, hugging his hips and forcing himself deeper. His throat bulged as it was ruthlessly penetrated by PK:s rock-hard rod. Primal urges powered him as he felt his lips touch the base briefly. And almost like a diver running out of breath, he needed to get to the surface.\n\n Too bad PK had other ideas. \n\n His paws were firmly gripping the hair in the back of Astia's head, forcing the male down. He dropped to his knees, taking the squirrel with him and let out a loud cry of pleasure. He had far since exceeded his limit, but the ring prevented him to release his load. The mix of pain and pleasure was consuming his mind, and the pressure was increasing with every passing moment. Soon, something had to give.\n\n\n[center][u][b][i]The Key: Will[/i][/b][/u][/center]\n\n\n Discipline. Resolution. Determination. \n\n All of them synonyms, different words with a similar or identical meaning.\n\n Power of mind drives the body. Linked, they are in unison, driving a person towards a goal. \n\n It takes grit and perseverance to stay on the true path. To travel the long road, seeking for the answers. The mission is long, the guest often shorter. But at the end awaits the prize. A trophy in the form of gold, honor or possession. Even simple gratitude can often lead to personal satisfaction. \n\n Exceptional fortitude is however required to achieve those.\n\n Willingly holding oneself back is something we all claim to be able to do. But words and actions are frequently separated by a layer of deception. A bluff is often called, and with higher stakes come bigger losses. And gains.\n\n Ultimately, it is the responsibility of each individual to discover their limits. But it might take someone else to surpass them. Whether it's loyalty, friendship or power of love, one might find that extra reserve. Endurance and tenacity to keep going when they should've long since fallen.\n\n Not everyone is lucky enough to find that special someone though. Many are seeking, even settling for those who don't have that power. Happiness is a paradox; often at premium, yet always priceless.\n\n\n[center][u][i][b]Welcome to the Mirror[/b][/i][/u][/center]\n\n\n Fading. Not just the room. Not just his vision. Everything. As if the very fabric of reality was warped, twisted, torn beyond recognition. \n\n He was reaching. Reaching for the last glimmer of light, like a string of hope. And in a sense, it was. A rope in the middle of the sea, amidst the raging waves and vast emptiness. Memories of the past invaded his mind. Thoughts of those days of naive laughter and play nonexistent. It was fear. Primal fear, and the biggest of them all: Unknown. Dark. Faceless. And yet... warm. Embracing. Brutal, indifferent, but ultimately also inevitable.\n\n PK finally let go, allowing Astia to grasp for air. It took him a while to notice that the rodent had stopped squirming and was getting rather limp. The squirrel coughed weakly, wheezing something about limits.\n\n He was promptly ignored.\n\n His mouth opened, without resistance, just a sharp inhale right before it was roughly penetrated once more. Like a piston, PK worked the throat of the squirrel, using him like a toy for his own pleasure. A warm, fuzzy, fluffy toy, and something that just a moment ago still thought and felt individually. \n\n Now Astia's mind was mostly blank, for his feelings and needs focused on things other than the contract for next season or boredom. Disappointment and blue mood was replaced by simply savage treatment. Perhaps this is what he craved, deep inside. A wake-up call like none other.\n\n The rodent's eyes opened, revealing that his pupils had long since stopped focusing on PK. Or anything else. Rolled up, his stare was as blank as his mind, mouth agape yet firmly gripping around the cock. His throat was sore, bulging and almost on fire. And he was thirsty. So thirsty. \n\n PK could relate, if he knew what was going through Astia's mind. Apart from his cock, that is. He was yearning for that sweet, sweet release. Usually far more restrained, at least he'd like to think so, right now the blame was entirely on squirrel for not providing that. And the frustration, sexual or otherwise, was mounting. Or peaking, to be more accurate. \n\n Astia's long locks of hair were sprouting amidst PK:s clenched fists. He kneeled down, forcing the squirrel on his back. The floor felt unforgiving, but his strong neck prevented him from hitting his head. His face was sweaty, and his eyes watered, sending trails down his cheeks on the wooden surface. Only then did PK finally let go of him, still kneeling above the male. His obscenely swollen member had stopped violating the rodent's throat for a mere moment, resting instead on his face. Both were drooling, PK from pent-up lust and Astia perhaps more out of reflex than anything.\n\n \"Still alive, are we?\"\n\n Astia nodded weakly, wandering pupils eventually fixating on PK.\n\n \"Good boy\", he murred. The male was rock-hard, and the weight of his balls was resting on top of Astia's face, who gave those puffed rocks a few licks in return.\n\n \"Ohh... Mmf. Such a good boy indeed. You'd make a fine toy in my collection...\"\n\n Astia was far too preoccupied, worn and tired to really care. He knew that this was not the end now, for PK surely had much more in store for him. \n\n The squirrel was slowly getting up, leaning against the nearside wall for support. Clearly, he needed a breather. And a drink. Badly. Such would perhaps be granted if he were to pull that ring off, an idea he was heavily considering. Especially as the pent-up lust seemed to make his contemporary rather... aggressive. Not that he really was in position to resist. Or in the mood, for that matter.\n\n PK followed suit, slowly crawling towards Astia, still licking his lips and eyes narrowing towards his target. He would probably eat the squirrel whole by now. \n\n Those large paws wandered towards his fishtail, the round butt being soon invaded by few of his own fingers. They soon went inside without much trouble as Astia simply watched with curious, watered eyes. Getting ever closer, the moans and smirks seemed to indicate that it was PK:s turn to be stuffed. And as he grabbed the rodent by the shoulders, it didn't require much to prompt Astia to reach lower, above and soon below that tail. \n\n PK landed a quick peck on the squirrel's dry lips, which was met with some tongue that moments ago coiled around his shaft. \n\n \"Mmn. So... eager to please. Ready for the main course?\"\n\n Astia perked a brow, fully expecting that he was the one about to be stuffed for the night. He didn't mind the development though, quite certain he wouldn't survive that kind of an insertion. It took a little more than a suggestion for him to lift his tail, and the opportunities to even prepare for such occasions were few and far between. \n\n He flashed a revealed, soft smile, pulling PK closer. \n\n \"Of course... more than ready. As you can maybe see...\"\n\n And PK certainly could. There was something quite firm poking beneath the skirt, and it didn't take long for him to take the garments out of the way as Astia laid down, lifting his legs to help the common cause. As the squirrel was in position, so to speak, PK couldn't help but tease the rodent a little. \n\n An assortment of surprised squeaks and rapid-fire protests followed.\n\n \"Wait... what... No! Mmmmhh... Please don't!\"\n\n PK couldn't help but grin, his finger slowly entering the tight, almost virgin tailhole.\n\n \"And what are you gonna do about it, hm? Last time I checked, you were the one to wear a skirt...\"\n\n Astia blushed, gritting his teeth as his head tilted back. \n\n \"Oo... No! I'm... not... very used... there!\"\n\n PK smiled, genuinely amused.\n\n \"Really? Well, it certainly feels that way... But that's an easy fix!\"\n\n He poked deeper inside the squirrel, moving his finger around for good measure. It was met with considerable clenching and resistance. And squirming. So much squirming.\n\n \"Just relax... Trust me, it'll be all easier...\"\n\n Astia couldn't. He bit his lip, struggling and moving about, his claws sinking into PK:s fur.\n\n \"Squee.... Mmm... Nngh, it hurts! Ohh...\"\n\n And suddenly, as soon as he started, PK stopped, pulling his finger out and shaking his head while looking down.\n\n \"Pfffft. Such a whiner! Looks like you still need some training\", he said sternly, pulling at the leash.\n\n Astia laid there, grasping his breath before getting yanked closer. He was leaking from his own, erect shaft, and had PK continued there might've been... interesting results.\n\n However, perhaps that was the reason he didn't. While Astia certainly wasn't as well-endowed as PK, especially with that swollen rod of his, he thought that there was plenty of squirrel to please him, one way or the other. And he already explored the depths of his throat, now it was time to let a squirrel explore his. \n\n PK pushed Astia towards the wall, crawling closer with clear intention. A wicked grin was matched by a somehow afraid look in Astia's face as he tried to get away. However, once PK revealed his intentions and started reaching towards the neck, Astia calmed down. And then, with swift motions of his paws, he removed the collar.\n\n \"There. I think you'd much prefer it this way, hm?\"\n\n Astia sat there, leaning against the wall and almost with a shocked look.\n\n \"Y...yes. I do.\"\n\n PK smiled. Nodding, he sat atop the male, his fat thighs on either side of Astia's legs, grinding against the squirrel. This was met with the expected response of a knowing smile. \n\n \"Should we go to bed?\", Astia asked, his sore bones tired from the abuse.\n\n \"Hmm... a good idea, squirrelbutt. Perhaps your first of the night.\"\n\n\n[u][i][b][center]And I Hear You Call[/center][/b][/i][/u]\n\n\n \"Well, I'm waiting.\"\n\n PK kneeled on the bed, his luscious rump raised high. A long, blue fishtail was swinging about, threatening to knock down a lamp. He was already gripping to the scarlet blankets beneath him, eagerly awaiting for the squirrel to take him like he deserved.\n\n Astia stood up, still lightheaded. That rough throatfuck earlier had taken a toll on the squirrel, who was already worn after a long season and a weekend of racing. Those who say motorsport is easy, that you just have to sit down and drive couldn't be more wrong. \n\n And the tight top made it rather more difficult to breathe, too. He wondered if his heart was going to give in soon, but when he saw what the bed had to offer, those thoughts quickly vanished. \n\nIt was like a choir of angels, singing atop the clouds. It's hard to put the sight into words, for it was perhaps closest thing to perfection he's witnessed. Round yet firm, seemingly made to be filled. And that tail, swinging atop of it, mesmerizing the squirrel.\n\n \"Hey. Take a picture while you're at it\", PK quipped, clearly eager for them to get properly started. \n\n What he didn't expect was Astia to do just that, grinning as he snapped a quick memory with his phone. Grinning, the rodent tossed the phone aside and approached the male, stroking his own, hard shaft. \n\nHe snuck his finger in, along with another, the tailhole clearly expecting more. PK moaned, gripping the blankets and looking back at the squirrel. \n\n \"Mm... Now that's more like it, boy... Yesh...\"\n\n Astia grinned, twisting his fingers. Clearly, it seemed more than ready for the main course, but he couldn't turn down a chance to tease. Especially now that he knew about the ring. \n\n \"So... you like it, hm? Would you like some more, perhaps?\"\n\n He twisted his fingers again, just to drive the point home.\n\n \"Yesh... Gimme...\"\n\n The squirrel smiled, poking his cock around the fluffy thighs. \n\n \"Ask nicer\", he said, rapidly fingering the male.\n\n \"Mmmmmh... Aahn... I said gimme... Your... cock... now...\"\n\n Astia paused for a moment, or at least his thoughts did. His fingers kept working PK:s greedy hole without much thought or mercy. \n\n \"I said nicer! Don't you, mm, have any manners?\"\n\n At this stage, both his index and middle finger were very much inside the kneeling PK. His butt was still high in the air, hips responding to the motions of Astia's digits. The fuzzybun was smaller, and appeared even more so as his face sank into the blankets. His moans echoed around the room.\n\n \"Mmnaaaah... PLEASE! God damn fuck, ah, mh, I... hnnngh, never should, oh, have taken the... blasted... mmn... collar off!\"\n\n Astia couldn't help but grin, stuffing his digits in a few more times and then taking them out, stroking PK:s back with his other paw. \n\n \"That's a good fuzzybun... And yes, you might regret that decision soon.\" \n\nThe height difference between the two males was apparent, around half a meter. As such, Astia could take PK from behind with relative ease despite the rather high bed and even higher-raised rump.\n\n Without much in terms of dialogue, the squirrel grabbed his cock once more, guiding it towards the slightly gaping hole in front of him. He inhaled sharply as the tip reached PK:s fuzzy fur, and then, with a quick push, snuck it inside. It was met with a pleased noise from within the blankets. \n\n \"Mmmh... Go on... please...\"\n\n And so the squirrel did. Grabbing a firm hold of that fuzzybun butt on both sides, he gradually yet effectively worked his way deeper. It was tight, surprising the rodent who was hesitant to push to deep at first.\n\n \"Aah... Oh, I'm good...\"\n\n Astia simply nodded, despite PK being unable to see the motion. The warm insides of PK were wrapping tight around his member, and Astia actually got really close to cumming here and then.\n\n However, he was determined to give a good ride once the opportunity to do so had arisen, thus was able to hold on.\n\n In front of him, PK, who was getting his rear slowly filled with squirrel, started to enjoy the occurrence by quite a bit. Earlier, cheeky and dominant male was replaced by a bent-over, swollen and simply lusty fuzzybun. The mantra started to repeat itself soon, urging Astia to keep going despite his initial doubts.\n\n \"Mmn, deeper, faster, harder...Ah... Harder... faster... deeper... deeper... faster... Mhhhhhhnnn... harder!\n\n ...Oh... yesssh... deeper... deeeeeeeper... mmmoh. Oh. Oh. Yesh. Yes.\"\n\n Astia, quite turned to say the least, promptly forgot about silly things like holding back and personal responsibility. His claws sank deep into the fur, and then flesh, of PK:s butt, who started pushing his hips back even more in response. It would take all of the rodent's stamina, and then some, to hold on for much longer.\n\n And then he remembered about the ring. By now, PK had been holding on far beyond the ability of the average person. And it showed. His face was flushed with sweat and his expression was rather silly to say the least, grinning with dilated pupils, swinging about as his eyes had long since forgot about focusing on anything. \n\n His grip on the blankets was so hard that they started to slowly tear, adding a ripping effect to the soundtrack of slaps, sighs, moans and a sharp exhale once Astia had managed to stuff his cock all the way to the hilt. \n\n The thrusting was continuous, and by now entirely mindless. Bodies were on autopilot, attending to only most ancient primal urges. Sweat was dripping from both males, and in Astia's case, something else was slowly leaking, too. As for PK, his member was starting to reach some sort of a critical mass. \n\n But squirrel kept going, faster, harder but no longer deeper, for he lacked the equipment necessary to drill that hole any more. Which was, for PK, probably the best, as he was already far beyond the usual levels of pleasure. The squirrelcock throbbing and pounding hard onto his tender insides and his body thrusting back at equal force, very little thought was given to the structural integrity of the bed. Or poor PK, for that matter.\n\n \"I, ah... umf... can't hold on much... Ahn, longer!\"\n\n The rodent was past his point of no return. Pleasure was mounting by every thrust, and now he could feel the rest of the blood rush away from his head. Losing the feel from his crotch, he thrusted in deep, then once more just as his load was released. His breaths got very rapid, inhaling and exhaling sharply as he simply couldn't stop cumming inside that tight butt, PK:s insides getting thoroughly stretched with each serving of the squirrel's warm seed. He moaned lusciously, head sinking deeper into those blankets as his belly was finally filled and even slightly inflated. \n\n Astia almost fell backwards, just managing to hold on to the lamp as he pulled his limp member out, producing a trail of his own spunk with it. Paying no mind to the rather sticky state of his crotch, he fell forward instead, exhausted and tired, still basking in the afterglow of his own orgasm.\n\n PK, on the other hand, needed more. His butt wide agape and leaking with Astia's cum, it would take a while before he could properly move. He opened his arms to embrace the approaching male.\n\n Squirrel, to his surprise, was instead met with a ringless, swollen and throbbing cock right in front of his face. He turned to his side, managing to land a soft peck onto its tip. Astia looked up, and saw PK:s wicked grin, coupled with a certain fire in his eyes, very much ready to violate Astia's throat once more. \n\n Penetration itself was swift. Our rodent was far too tired and pleased to resist much, which would've been wise if he knew what was coming. PK's lust had risen to levels far beyond the comprehension of mere mortals, and as soon as Astia opened his mouth, he drove in with little in the way of holding back. \n\n Astia gagged, his head quickly driven into the pillow behind. He tried to grab a hold of PK:s thighs, but the male drove right through, not paying much attention anything else than the long-awaited prize. The squirrel's throat bulged, his eyes still fixed to the massive shaft and the rate in which it was disappearing inside him. It was throbbing at an alarming rate, his throat already sore and was now being used even more brutally than before. \n\nPK soon mounted Astia entirely, laying atop of him and fucking the poor squirrel's mouth and throat senseless. The rodent couldn't do much to help the cause, sinking deeper in the bed and bracing himself for the inevitable. Soon, however, the thrusting stopped, but this meant only the start of Astia's problems. \n\n He couldn't help but let out a loud moan as his paws grabbed a hold of Astia's hair. The release was swift, for the load practically exploded into his throat. The endless stream of hot load far exceeded the rodent's admittably admirable capacity, and the sticky fluid soon draped out between his lips and the throbbing, well-lubed shaft. \n\n Soon, they had both become a sticky mess laying atop of the bed. Astia was barely conscious with his eyes rolled to the back, mouth agape and flooding with PK:s salty yet delicious fluids. It dripped steadily onto his jaw, sides of his neck and to the bed, where a small puddle was forming. Most of it, however, had made its way down his throat and into his belly, expanding the already fluffy squirrel even more. \n\n And PK was laying there, next to him, his flaccid member resting lazily against Astia's paw. He, too, looked well and truly out of it. The fuzzybun made his way a little closer, snugging himself tightly to Astia before they both fell to well-deserved rest amidst their own fluids.\n\n The black notebook was on the table, open. It had an unfinished picture of a squirrel, getting quite intimate with the artist himself. Beside it were some coffee stains and a question mark.\n\n\n[center][u][i][b]You[/b][/i][/u][/center]\n\n\n Floodlight, bright and large, turned on. March had just turned to April, days were starting to get longer but it was not quite summer yet. However, nobody, not even the locals were wearing jackets.\n\n Florida was plenty warm this time of the year. Surface of the concrete had cracked from many places. It was uneven to say the least, many bumps and holes leading to skidmarks. A small cover of dust laid unsettled on the edged, at places joined by hapless pieces of grass, torn from the earth by a passing racer.\n\n In the grandstands, there were many anxious supporters. Far from silent, the crowds constant murmuring was nevertheless easily overlapped by the loud cars. From the straight six Porsches to the V12 Aston Martins, the action on track was constant and nonstop in multiple classes. Cars in various colors, piloted by a plethora of brave drivers were entering the very final laps of a long and grueling journey.\n\n It had taken 12 hours to reach this point. Not to mention all testing, trying to find that last tenth and making sure each and every part, from the chassis itself to the smallest of bolts, was properly fitted and ready to take on the stress. Constant fiddling and fine-tuning followed, for each minor adjustment could yield that final edge in performance over the opponents. All in all, each team had probably spent months preparing for the season, past few weeks on that one single race. \n\nAnd finally, to the loud cheers of the gathered spectators, a mostly grey Corvette Daytona Protype came into view. It was bouncing and looked very unsettled, traveling at speeds excess of 200kph even while turning, but it was something they had seen almost each and every lap. An old man, well in his 70s, was waving the checkered flag on a small tower beside the pit wall. The car straightened, then turned briefly to both directions before driving right beside the barrier and past the tower. \n\n Mechanics and engineers alike hugged, shouted and raised their hands in celebration. Two other drivers, biting their nails in the garage, embraced each other in both joy and sheer disbelief. Had someone told them they would be spraying champagne tonight just three hours ago, they would've both told the person to get their head checked. Yet here they were, about to go and do just that. In front of some 80,000 people. \n\n Astia was crying, and not even trying to hide it despite being very aware of onboard cameras. Soon, those pictures were transmitted all over the world, to the interest and delight of race fans everywhere. One of those who would see them was his ex-team manager, foolish enough to let him go after a disappointing season. He, too, would see that his decision was perhaps the wrong one. But, as they say, hindsight's 20/20. \n\n The squirrel pinched the bridge of his nose with his gloved paws. He had raised his visor long since, right after crossing the finish line. He waved from the window, and was greeted with waving flags and appreciating applause. American crowds were always eager to cheer for the underdog, the one who simply wouldn't give up. Not even when all hope was seemingly lost. \n\nOnly three hours earlier, their car was brought into the pits from 4th place. The previous driver had a minor collision with a slower GT car, and as a result, the car now looked very much wounded. Left front panel was amiss, some of the bodywork was hitting the tyre itself, which had promptly torn and deflated as a result. The only upside was that they were due a scheduled pitstop anyway, so they didn't have to make an additional one for repairs. Still, the situation looked grim.\n\n Mechanics went into work swiftly however, and soon a whole new front cover was installed. It had taken only little over a minute, all in all, plus tyre change and refueling. Still, it was a minute they simply couldn't afford, not when the lead battle was very tight and there were various questions regarding the state of brakes, front cooling and hydraylics. And as if that wasn't enough, the power steering was no longer working.\n\n Yet Astia drove the race of his life. Four stints, each one 45 minutes long, and at times lapping over a second faster than anyone else over the 6km-long Sebring International Raceway. By the time he had taken the lead, nearly every warning light and dial was red, the tyres were worn beyond recognition and the driver himself, not the fittest of squirrels admittably, was sweating profusely, nearly every bone in his body, every muscle and every joint hurt from the constant G-forces and bumps rattling him to the very core.\n\n But both the car and the driver held on, to the astonishment of rivals and supporters alike. And once Astia drove the car into the pits and was helped from the cockpit, he couldn't even express his need for water (his in-car bottles having expired about halfway through the final stint) before getting swarmed by his own team-mates and everyone who had contributed to the success. \n\nOn the podium, American flag was raised, joined with the Belgian one. Both national anthems played, and as they had finished, the squirrel got drenched in champagne. Not that he wasn't busy doing the same to other drivers, too, including the fellow drivers from his team. Wasteful use of an expensive drink? Perhaps, but a tradition is a tradition and is to be duly followed.\n\n And standing there, overcome with joy and fulfillment, he was taking in the whole atmosphere. Posing for pictures and hands raised in joy alongside his trusted compatriots, when questioned about how he could produce such a stunning drive, Astia simply pointed to the crowd, waving. They cheered in response, as crowds tend to do.\n\n Deep within the rows of people stood a short male. He had a black notebook, beige jeans and a checkered, turquoise shirt. His long fishtail was swinging about slowly behind his back. And he couldn't help smiling once Astia pointed to him.\n\n \n Times change indeed.\n\n\n\n[center][u][b][i]Endnotes & Credits[/i][/b][/u][/center]\n\n\nStory is written in its entirety by Astia Tuohenkolo.\n\nAll events are entirely fictional & not based on real-life events. \n\nAll characters, their personalities and actions are inspired by their players.\n\nVarious locations, such as Zandvoort, the hotel and Sebring International Raceway and their descriptions are made to loosely resemble their real-life counterparts.\n\nMajor credit to PawKnight for inspiring me to create this story. It turned out to be one that I very much enjoyed writing. Finishing a short story in two days is something I've never even thought of trying, let alone doing. \n\nFinally, I'm still experimenting with proper formatting. It's a major pain, and in hindsight, I should've just left it alone. Oh well.\n\n\nMay contain nuts. \n\n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"
Prelude



 Times change.

   Society at large has adapted fairly quickly to a whole different era. Gone are the days of so-called "simple life", where one could reasonably expect to live their life without travelling past the horizon. Indeed, travel and innovation has allowed us to experience an existence far beyond the dreams of our ancestors. The four elements finally joined together in the loud, cacophonic harmony of fire invading land, water and air alike. It transformed our very existence. Yet few would foresee the scale of technological revolution that this brought upon us.

   Roof. It's something buildings tend to have. There are different types of roofs, but this one was quite ordinary – flat, white and filled with various equipment. Satellite dishes shared the space with large ventilation boxes and various other technical apparatus, necessary to maintain those luxuries that modern-day customers take for granted.

   Netherlands, as a western country, is no exception. Nor was this one particular person, residing precisely three floors below the main AC duct, blissingly unaware of the aforementioned fact and far more preoccupied with something similar. Something simple, at first glance, yet far more complex.

   White. Pure, save for a hint of grey, not unlike vast skies above the North Sea. Many a sailor have travelled the waves, seeking for various things: Fame, fortune, conquest. Times may change, but the nature of man remains. Always curious, seldom compromising, often ambitious.

  He was no exception.


Used to Feel Before



   The ceiling reminded him of a distant memory. He had fever, and saw a ball of light enter from the bedroom window. It was pale blue, faintly lit and traveled fast, on and off between the edges of his vision. Gradually moving towards the middle, he was sure it was of alien origin. Spaceship, perhaps from the moon or even another planet. A remote galaxy, long way from ours, distances far beyond the comprehension of a mere child. Here to visit him, for an important mission or out of mere interest. As for their mission, he had no clue.

   Surroundings in the small, dimly-lit rooms were slowly melting, the images processed to his brain doubtfully originating from reality. A desperate call for help reached the ears of his mother, and the visitors from above quickly scattered away, being replaced by the assuring, kind eyes of the person he trusted more than anything else in this world. Soon, reality set in, and he eventually recovered, joining the gleeful playing of the young ones without a worry in the world.

   Joys of sport and play continued. His life was not exactly normal, yet fairly standard. He grew up to be a relatively well-mannered kid, but also one that would often dive into a challenge head-first. It was no surprise, then, that his later life saw him undertake various brave and often shortsighted tasks. Memories of those adventures have faded over time, yet the fever-induced visions of his early childhood remain so clear.

   Even those he wishes to forget.  

 As much as he would've perhaps liked however, this was no bedroom. Sure, it had a soft and a very comfortable bed, and it definitely filled the criteria of a room. But instead of home, this was a hotel. It was a decent hotel by all means, but still a hotel. And as such, not something he would've liked to be in.

   The season had been long and frustrating. He didn't feel like he was getting anywhere, not with his development nor career. Both of those were currently stagnating, and he was no spring chicken. It had started promisingly enough with a string of solid finishes, but instead of taking the expected leap forward, the results regressed. And when that happens, one starts to doubt himself, questioning his ability and whether he was simply not good enough. In a sport where confidence is essential to achieve great results, this was an alarming development. Plus he had no contract for the following season, nor a clear idea of his future.

   Oh, if he could only return to the happy days. Where he didn't have to think about chassis adjustments, wing angles or performance delta. When he spent his time on computer either playing video games or looking at some rather questionable content. Now, the former means simulator training and latter is unexpected readings on telemetry data. His social circles have switched from naive kids and quirky teens to grey old men in three-piece suits, demanding PR-managers and often arrogant and cocky fellow drivers. It seemed like he was but a puppet, attached to strings and following a script. And about to be written out of his own story. Such is life. Even for a squirrel.


Time



   Minutes turned into hours. Day was slowly turning into an evening. A quiet evening. Unsettlingly so.

   Holiday resorts can be like that once the season is over, and this was no exception. One of Netherlands' primary tourist destinations, Zandvoort lives and dies with the summer. The blue ocean, combined with mile after mile of fine sand creates a very southern atmosphere, only that the people are mostly Dutch natives. It was a reasonable distance away from Amsterdam, making it ideal for a different kind of a day trip than most tourists seek.

   Lack of choice isn't an issue when choosing a place to spend a night. From beach houses to fine five-star palaces and everything in between, there's something for everyone. Whether one was a backpacker or the most honorable of VIP quests, there would be a suitable accomodation.

   He wasn't sure where he belonged. Perhaps somewhere in the middle.

   Like many, he had originally travelled to the capital, but soon found himself bored amidst the pricey coffee shops and neon-lit windows. Not very familiar with rest of the country, he regardless cancelled his reservation and chose to jump into the first bus.

   Right now, that seemed like a good call. Gone were the crowds flocking among the canals and narrow streets, and it was replaced by the tasteful yet uninspiring bar. It felt very by the book, from the moderately warm lightning to the dark wooden drinks shelf and a matching counter. Off-white walls lined the space, which was designed less for intimate moments and more for private discussions after a business conference.

   Some mediocre pop music filled the otherwise silent seating area. Behind the counter, one bartender was cleaning one class, presumably for her one customer who was working on one drawing. Two hours and three cups of coffee later, she couldn't help but wonder if the male, at least he presumed so, was ever going to order anything else. If not, she might as well close the bar and head home, for it seemed people weren't exactly craving for a drink.

   Or if they were, they took their business elsewhere. Yet here she was, reading the same front page of an online tabloid for the fourth time.

   Soon, the male heard faint footsteps in distance. Like so many times before, he ignored them, for many people came and went. It was right next to the lobby, after all. But this time, the footsteps didn't originate from someone who had slept in or a hotel worker. And they came closer. And closer. Until they stopped.

   Squirrel paid him next to no attention, barely noting his presence. He seemed to be under the weather, and for a good reason. For him, this person sitting by the counter was but yet another tourist, and he was quite right in that.

   Immediately after approaching, the rodent attracted the attention of a bartender and her very polished customer service smile.

   "Good evening sir, how may I help you?", she quickly inquired.

   "One beer, please", came the reply, without missing a beat.

   "Heineken? Amstel? Perhaps Grolsch would be of your fancy?"

   "A beer. Er, Amstel, just for change."

   "Very well, sir. That'll be 6 euros and ninety-five cents, please."

   Six euros and ninety-five cents. That's seven euros. That is also an outrageous price for a beer, especially when you can get the same amount of the same liquid, plus a can to keep it in, for 1/8 of the prize. Quietly sighing, he reached for his right pocket, producing a mostly gray MasterCard and placing it in front of the small machine. Soon, a text confirming a successful transaction prompted the white-clad bartender to ask one more mandatory question of whether the squirrel wished to have a receipt of the payment.

   And after a negative answer, she returned to her scheduled frontpage-reading. For the fifth time. Soon realizing that there was pretty much nothing going on, she briefly glanced the small TV to her right, displaying various dull information and advertisements for local tourist traps.

   He took a quick look around, noticing that not only were the tables empty, but in fact he was alone in the bar. Well, mostly alone. There was this... person, for the lack of a better description, sitting by the counter and mostly focused on his papers. A checkered shirt in various shades of turquoise suited his fur nicely, but the most interesting feature was a sizeable fishtail, resting against the birch floor. He had long ears with round tufts on the end, and overall was smaller than the squirrel. By quite a bit.

   Curious, he sneaked a quick peek to their contents while strolling by. He was however quite taken aback from what he saw, for they were no ordinary papers, containing business briefs or printed sheets of powerpoint documents. No, they were, as a matter of fact... something far different. Another glance from further away proved that this was not a product of his imagination.

   He reached for his car keys in the left pocket, and somewhat hurriedly handed them to the bartender with instructions to leave them at reception.

   "When I drink, I don't drive. And I think I need more than one", he explained, managing a soft smile despite his dire mood.

   She nodded with a pseudo-surprised smile. "Oh, how thoughtful of you, sir. May I have your name, please?"

   As she glanced over the small display below the counter,  he smiled, again. Her words had the effect she intended – a happy customer.

   "Tuohenkolo. Er, Astia Tuohenkolo. Tee-Yu-Oh-Eizh-Ii-En..."

   "Oh, yes, here. Very well. You can collect these at noon tomorrow, not before midday. Give your room number and be sure to show your ID, as per protocol."

   "Understood. Thank you."

   A nod later, he sat down, one seat away from his fellow customer and stealing a glance every now and then.

   He wanted to start a conversation, but was unsure of what he should say. "Hello, I saw you drawing strong pornography" seemed like a terrible introduction. So he simply dropped the descriptive part and went with that.

   The male quickly covered the paper with his paw, looking quite shocked. No wonder.

   "E...eh? I... um..."

   "It's okay. I'm not a cop", he smiled. "Just bored. The name's Astia, by the way. I'm a racing driver."

   "O..oh... PawKnight, but friends call me PK."

   Astia couldn't help but perk a brow.

   "Huh. Well, nice to meet you. Is that your artist name or your real one?"

   "Yes."


Get Rid of Your Fear



   Dutch twilight set in. Final, fainting rays of light flirted with the fine-grained sand as even the last of the seagulls scattered away. Gone was the bread and various other goods, so the birds had to settle for the fish in the sea.

   It was mostly empty. A man by his lonesome walked a small terrier along the slabs of concrete beside hay-covered banking. There were some couples, too, saying goodbye to the summer and stopping every once in a while for a quick display of affection. It was mostly silent, even the sea was calm.

   Save for those seagulls.

   Damn seagulls.

   "...And, heh, you'll never guess what the engineer said? He, okay, bear with me here, he was suggesting that we stiffen up the rear rebound damping! Now, I've been driving for this team two years! Two goddamn years! They should now by now how I prefer my cars: Reactive, precise, fast at entry and stable on exit! And if I'm specifically complaining about understeer on corner entry, then-"

   "Astia."

   "Hang on, as I was saying, I was specifically complaining about understeer on corner entry, and they were going to increase it! Even the mechanics agreed."

   "That's nice. But honestly, I'm not very into racing", PK said, lifting his beige jeans a little.

   "But it's not just racing, it's a lifestyle! And I quite like it."

   He paused.

   "Even if the future seems... bleak."

   Light was slowly fading as sun set below the wavy horizon. Only then did Astia note the seeming lack of illumination on the beach.

   "Huh. It got dark all of sudden", he said, stopping briefly.

   "That's because you keep being such a downer! And that aside, I like it. It's beautiful. Kinda... romantic, almost."

   PK stopped, too, looking around and smiling.

   "Shame you can't see the stars from here, despite your so-called lack of illumination."

   "Oh pfft, there's one right before your eyes." He couldn't help but give a goofy grin and thumbs up.

   "Ha, yeah. So, 'Mister Räikkönen', what did you like about my pictures, specifically?

   A moment of silence followed. Astia looked a little stunned, perhaps by PK:s sarcastic reference but most likely due to the swift change of subject. Either way, he stood there, mouth agape and thumbs still up.

   "Well, I, um... Okay, I was bored, and may have glanced at them. But only glanced! And, um, I didn't even see them that well..."

   PK couldn't help but smile, tad deviously.

   "And would you like to, hm? There's some squirrels, too!"

   "I... Hey, what does my species have to do with this?"

   Astia looked confused. Not the least because he still had his thumbs up. Goofy squirrel. PK, on the other hand, was now very much in charge of the conversation.

   "Squirrels have cute tails. I like cute tails. So big and... fluffy!"

   He reached for Astia's tail, and before the squirrel had chance to react, grabbed a firm hold.

   "Got your tail! Ha! Now what are you going to do?"

   Good question. Very good. In fact, he had no idea.

   "...Ask you to give it back? Pretty please?"

   PK laughed.

   "Try harder."

   "Okay... give me my tail back, please. It's, well, it's mine. And I don't remember giving you a permission to touch it in first place", he said, slumbering with his words.

   "I don't remember asking, silly. Now, would you like to see... my art?"

   Astia sighed, realizing there was no point fighting back.

   "...Yes. Please."


Shine On Me



   It was warm, at least reasonably so. North wind blew from the sea, but it was not chilling. More like a whisper from a loved one.

   Astia and PK soon found a small hut, empty and left to wait for the next season. It had the convenience of a small floodlight, bright enough to provide considerable visiblity for the surrounding space.

   From his black messenger bag, PK produced an A4 notebook. It was equally black, and filled with white pages and various doodles. And drawings. Some were sketches, others more refined. He gave it to the squirrel, still holding the rodent's tail firmly as if he was taking him out for a walk. Astia promptly nodded and leaned against the railing, flipping pages and commenting on various points of interest, of which there were many.

   It also generated different sort of curiosity for him. Since many works featured the artist himself, he couldn't help but wonder if these were merely works of fiction after all.

   "PK... Can I ask you something?"

   "Depends on the question, dear."

   Dear. This was new. Astia paused briefly, considering his options. Was this an elaborate ruse? Perhaps something by his team to get him out for next season? If the images of him merely browsing through such scandalous works were to spread, it would surely mean an end to his career before he even got close to the top.

   But ultimately, there were far too many variables for this to be anything more than a ridiculous gambit. And besides, the team seemed to like him, even if he was no pay driver and would be relied to produce results. Perhaps it was his personality, or they simply knew that the car wasn't good enough to succeed. The fact that he nearly always beat his team mate would support that theory.

   Furthermore, he wasn't under contract, so such a scheme wouldn't even be necessary, if they were to get rid of him. Maybe he's just paranoid. But it all seemed... too good to be true.

   He concluded that he's either dreaming or the universe is paying him back big time for his suffering. Either way, he didn't want to wake up any time soon, seeing the direction their meeting seemed to be going.

   "Well, weren't you supposed to ask me something? Or did you get lost in your wicked fantasies...?"

   "I... Hey, look who's talking! Oh yes, I had a question: Are these, um, paid commission works of some sort, or could it be that your inspiration is... something more real?"

   PK couldn't help but grin, still standing next to the squirrel and gently stroking his tail.

   "And what if I'd say both?"

   Astia flipped a page, and it was yet another rather luscious image of the artist. Previously he'd seen one where PK was apparently wearing an inflatable skirt of some sort, and next was something more... in-depth. As his mind wandered through the depictions of seemingly endless ways of enjoying oneself, he was slowly but surely starting to get the hint.

   "Then I'd be more than happy to help."

   Beat.

   "Ooh, and what exactly do you mean by that, hm?"  

Astia blushed, turning to look towards PK, who in turn had adapted a rather wicked smile. And was still busy with the rodent's fluffy tail.

   "I, uhm... You know what I mean, don't make me explain it."

   He flipped a page.

   "Like this, here. It does feature a balloon and... Well, it seems like you're rather enjoying the whole ordeal. At least judging by your expression", he said, smiling and pointing to the picture.

   "Oh, I think I get what you mean, yes..."

   PK stroke Astia's tail more playfully now, approaching the base. It started swinging in response. The squirrel laid the notebook to the railing. It was picked up by the wind, and dropped in front of him. He was kind enough to promptly reach for it.

   Big mistake.

   "Gotcha!", said PK excitedly and leaped on top of the squirrel.

   "Wha, hey! That's not fair!" Laying down, Astia had some considerable pressure on him. Despite his small stature, it seemed like PK could hold his own and then some.

   "Anything's fair in love and war. Besides, you did offer your assistance! Are you not a squirrel of your word?"

   Astia paused. Good question. He seemed to have knack for those tonight.

   "I mean... I like to think I am. I've seldom broke a promise. But... Ah. I don't have any say in this, do I?"

   PK got up, offering a paw and smiling softly.

   "Oh don't be silly. Of course you have. Now, what kind of a skirt would you prefer?"


Take You to Sweet Harmony



   Red on the right. White to the left. And straight ahead, it was a mixture of black and blue. Rather cheap-looking curtains seemed to be there for very little reason, but were soon closed, as were most of the lights. Not that anyone would think to spy a very ordinary-looking room.

   Their loss.

   Astia kneeled, and was eye-to-eye with PK. He was on a short leash, literally. His short denims were tosses aside, as was his green polo shirt. They were replaced with a rather plain, red tulip-shaped skirt and a white top, far too tight to even close from the back. The zipper, therefore, was left mostly open.

   The outfit matched the right side of the room. It was as if they were tailor-made, or something that the hotel might have in stock. PK denied such frivolous accusations, claiming that he didn't plan on anything like this.

   Sure.

   "So cute! Look at that! You look absolutely... adorable!"

   PK was beaming, licking his lips at the sight of a tamed, rather feminine-appearing squirrel. Gone was the grumpy rodent who just wanted a drink. He not only had the firm hold of the leash, but had the larger male exactly where he wanted, on the floor, kneeling beside his naked figure.

   Astia looked down, but was quickly yanked. Eyes on the prize!  

 "I don't know why I agreed to this", he sighed, looking quite embarassed.

   "Because you like it, don't you? Kinky squirrel! And kinky squirrels must be punished!

   Astia facepawed, this time allowed to do so.

   "...You just couldn't think of anything more original, could you? What's next, ask me if I'm hungry for some nuts?"

   "Well, are you?"

   Astia paused. He dug his own hole there, this time figuratively.

   "...I am a squirrel. Let's face it, I like nuts. But... mmmpf! Hrgh... Oh... Mmm."

   PK had finally managed to shut the squirrel up with a healthy dose of a cock to the face. It didn't take long for Astia to open up and take the offering. Despite appearing strictly professional and all that, it's not like he hasn't endulged in some oral favors before.

   "Oh! Mm, well, that didn't take much coaxing, did it?"

   Ignoring the teasing, Astia continued to enjoy his... meal. The intial push had taken him by surprise, but soon he was back on track. Pulling back, he grinned viciously.

   "Pffft. You just got lucky", he quipped, stroking the erect member and feasting his eyes on the sight. It was large, but not entirely unreasonable to take head-on. Just challenging. And he liked a good challenge.

   It didn't take long for the squirrel to lead the way. He leaned closer, slowly letting his tongue play over the tip. Just little touches, here and there, circulating around it. Wandering towards the base, only then did he notice some sort of a ring wrapped around the shaft. Smiling, he turned his attention towards the underside of his shaft, licking it all the way from the base to the tip, repeating the process a few times. And grinned.

   "Saaaay, what is this", he inquired with a teasing voice.

   PK was flushed, blushing despite knowing that the rodent would eventually see it.

   "It's... Um, there to prevent leaking!"

   Astia chuckled.

   "Really? And does it work?"

   He licked his way around, back towards the tip and stroke the erect, swollen member viciously.

   "Ah... mm... Find out yourself... Aaahn..."

   It didn't take much more for the squirrel to get serious. Grinning, he nodded and gulped down on the delicious, throbbing cock. It was rock-hard, swollen and... even larger than before. He wondered if he bit more than he can swallow, literally, as it pushed deeper into his mouth, and all he could do was try and not gag.

   PK, meanwhile, was already trembling and dangerously close to falling. On shaky ground, he gripped tight to the leash and spoke softly.

   "G...good... boy... ahhh... take it! Deeper! Make me fall!"

   Astia had long since closed his eyes. He wrapped his paws around the male, hugging his hips and forcing himself deeper. His throat bulged as it was ruthlessly penetrated by PK:s rock-hard rod. Primal urges powered him as he felt his lips touch the base briefly. And almost like a diver running out of breath, he needed to get to the surface.

   Too bad PK had other ideas.

 His paws were firmly gripping the hair in the back of Astia's head, forcing the male down. He dropped to his knees, taking the squirrel with him and let out a loud cry of pleasure. He had far since exceeded his limit, but the ring prevented him to release his load. The mix of pain and pleasure was consuming his mind, and the pressure was increasing with every passing moment. Soon, something had to give.


The Key: Will



   Discipline. Resolution. Determination.

   All of them synonyms, different words with a similar or identical meaning.

   Power of mind drives the body. Linked, they are in unison, driving a person towards a goal.

   It takes grit and perseverance to stay on the true path. To travel the long road, seeking for the answers. The mission is long, the guest often shorter. But at the end awaits the prize. A trophy in the form of gold, honor or possession. Even simple gratitude can often lead to personal satisfaction.

   Exceptional fortitude is however required to achieve those.

   Willingly holding oneself back is something we all claim to be able to do. But words and actions are frequently separated by a layer of deception. A bluff is often called, and with higher stakes come bigger losses. And gains.

   Ultimately, it is the responsibility of each individual to discover their limits. But it might take someone else to surpass them. Whether it's loyalty, friendship or power of love, one might find that extra reserve. Endurance and tenacity to keep going when they should've long since fallen.

   Not everyone is lucky enough to find that special someone though. Many are seeking, even settling for those who don't have that power. Happiness is a paradox; often at premium, yet always priceless.


Welcome to the Mirror



   Fading. Not just the room. Not just his vision. Everything. As if the very fabric of reality was warped, twisted, torn beyond recognition.

   He was reaching. Reaching for the last glimmer of light, like a string of hope. And in a sense, it was. A rope in the middle of the sea, amidst the raging waves and vast emptiness. Memories of the past invaded his mind. Thoughts of those days of naive laughter and play nonexistent. It was fear. Primal fear, and the biggest of them all: Unknown. Dark. Faceless. And yet... warm. Embracing. Brutal, indifferent, but ultimately also inevitable.

   PK finally let go, allowing Astia to grasp for air. It took him a while to notice that the rodent had stopped squirming and was getting rather limp. The squirrel coughed weakly, wheezing something about limits.

   He was promptly ignored.

   His mouth opened, without resistance, just a sharp inhale right before it was roughly penetrated once more. Like a piston, PK worked the throat of the squirrel, using him like a toy for his own pleasure. A warm, fuzzy, fluffy toy, and something that just a moment ago still thought and felt individually.

   Now Astia's mind was mostly blank, for his feelings and needs focused on things other than the contract for next season or boredom. Disappointment and blue mood was replaced by simply savage treatment. Perhaps this is what he craved, deep inside. A wake-up call like none other.

   The rodent's eyes opened, revealing that his pupils had long since stopped focusing on PK. Or anything else. Rolled up, his stare was as blank as his mind, mouth agape yet firmly gripping around the cock. His throat was sore, bulging and almost on fire. And he was thirsty. So thirsty.

   PK could relate, if he knew what was going through Astia's mind. Apart from his cock, that is. He was yearning for that sweet, sweet release. Usually far more restrained, at least he'd like to think so, right now the blame was entirely on squirrel for not providing that. And the frustration, sexual or otherwise, was mounting. Or peaking, to be more accurate.

   Astia's long locks of hair were sprouting amidst PK:s clenched fists. He kneeled down, forcing the squirrel on his back. The floor felt unforgiving, but his strong neck prevented him from hitting his head. His face was sweaty, and his eyes watered, sending trails down his cheeks on the wooden surface. Only then did PK finally let go of him, still kneeling above the male. His obscenely swollen member had stopped violating the rodent's throat for a mere moment, resting instead on his face. Both were drooling, PK from pent-up lust and Astia perhaps more out of reflex than anything.

   "Still alive, are we?"

  Astia nodded weakly, wandering pupils eventually fixating on PK.

   "Good boy", he murred. The male was rock-hard, and the weight of his balls was resting on top of Astia's face, who gave those puffed rocks a few licks in return.

   "Ohh... Mmf. Such a good boy indeed. You'd make a fine toy in my collection..."

   Astia was far too preoccupied, worn and tired to really care. He knew that this was not the end now, for PK surely had much more in store for him.

   The squirrel was slowly getting up, leaning against the nearside wall for support. Clearly, he needed a breather. And a drink. Badly. Such would perhaps be granted if he were to pull that ring off, an idea he was heavily considering. Especially as the pent-up lust seemed to make his contemporary rather... aggressive. Not that he really was in position to resist. Or in the mood, for that matter.

   PK followed suit, slowly crawling towards Astia, still licking his lips and eyes narrowing towards his target. He would probably eat the squirrel whole by now.

   Those large paws wandered towards his fishtail, the round butt being soon invaded by few of his own fingers. They soon went inside without much trouble as Astia simply watched with curious, watered eyes. Getting ever closer, the moans and smirks seemed to indicate that it was PK:s turn to be stuffed. And as he grabbed the rodent by the shoulders, it didn't require much to prompt Astia to reach lower, above and soon below that tail.

   PK landed a quick peck on the squirrel's dry lips, which was met with some tongue that moments ago coiled around his shaft.

   "Mmn. So... eager to please. Ready for the main course?"

   Astia perked a brow, fully expecting that he was the one about to be stuffed for the night. He didn't mind the development though, quite certain he wouldn't survive that kind of an insertion. It took a little more than a suggestion for him to lift his tail, and the opportunities to even prepare for such occasions were few and far between.

   He flashed a revealed, soft smile, pulling PK closer.

   "Of course... more than ready. As you can maybe see..."

   And PK certainly could. There was something quite firm poking beneath the skirt, and it didn't take long for him to take the garments out of the way as Astia laid down, lifting his legs to help the common cause. As the squirrel was in position, so to speak, PK couldn't help but tease the rodent a little.

   An assortment of surprised squeaks and rapid-fire protests followed.

   "Wait... what... No! Mmmmhh... Please don't!"

   PK couldn't help but grin, his finger slowly entering the tight, almost virgin tailhole.

   "And what are you gonna do about it, hm? Last time I checked, you were the one to wear a skirt..."

   Astia blushed, gritting his teeth as his head tilted back.

   "Oo... No! I'm... not... very used... there!"

   PK smiled, genuinely amused.

   "Really? Well, it certainly feels that way... But that's an easy fix!"

   He poked deeper inside the squirrel, moving his finger around for good measure. It was met with considerable clenching and resistance. And squirming. So much squirming.

   "Just relax... Trust me, it'll be all easier..."

   Astia couldn't. He bit his lip, struggling and moving about, his claws sinking into PK:s fur.

   "Squee.... Mmm... Nngh, it hurts! Ohh..."

   And suddenly, as soon as he started, PK stopped, pulling his finger out and shaking his head while looking down.

   "Pfffft. Such a whiner! Looks like you still need some training", he said sternly, pulling at the leash.

   Astia laid there, grasping his breath before getting yanked closer. He was leaking from his own, erect shaft, and had PK continued there might've been... interesting results.

   However, perhaps that was the reason he didn't. While Astia certainly wasn't as well-endowed as PK, especially with that swollen rod of his, he thought that there was plenty of squirrel to please him, one way or the other. And he already explored the depths of his throat, now it was time to let a squirrel explore his.

   PK pushed Astia towards the wall, crawling closer with clear intention. A wicked grin was matched by a somehow afraid look in Astia's face as he tried to get away. However, once PK revealed his intentions and started reaching towards the neck, Astia calmed down. And then, with swift motions of his paws, he removed the collar.

   "There. I think you'd much prefer it this way, hm?"

   Astia sat there, leaning against the wall and almost with a shocked look.

   "Y...yes. I do."

   PK smiled. Nodding, he sat atop the male, his fat thighs on either side of Astia's legs, grinding against the squirrel. This was met with the expected response of a knowing smile.

   "Should we go to bed?", Astia asked, his sore bones tired from the abuse.

   "Hmm... a good idea, squirrelbutt. Perhaps your first of the night."


And I Hear You Call



   "Well, I'm waiting."

   PK kneeled on the bed, his luscious rump raised high. A long, blue fishtail was swinging about, threatening to knock down a lamp. He was already gripping to the scarlet blankets beneath him, eagerly awaiting for the squirrel to take him like he deserved.

   Astia stood up, still lightheaded. That rough throatfuck earlier had taken a toll on the squirrel, who was already worn after a long season and a weekend of racing. Those who say motorsport is easy, that you just have to sit down and drive couldn't be more wrong.

   And the tight top made it rather more difficult to breathe, too. He wondered if his heart was going to give in soon, but when he saw what the bed had to offer, those thoughts quickly vanished.  

It was like a choir of angels, singing atop the clouds. It's hard to put the sight into words, for it was perhaps closest thing to perfection he's witnessed. Round yet firm, seemingly made to be filled. And that tail, swinging atop of it, mesmerizing the squirrel.

   "Hey. Take a picture while you're at it", PK quipped, clearly eager for them to get properly started.

   What he didn't expect was Astia to do just that, grinning as he snapped a quick memory with his phone. Grinning, the rodent tossed the phone aside and approached the male, stroking his own, hard shaft.  

He snuck his finger in, along with another, the tailhole clearly expecting more. PK moaned, gripping the blankets and looking back at the squirrel.

 "Mm... Now that's more like it, boy... Yesh..."

   Astia grinned, twisting his fingers. Clearly, it seemed more than ready for the main course, but he couldn't turn down a chance to tease. Especially now that he knew about the ring.

   "So... you like it, hm? Would you like some more, perhaps?"

   He twisted his fingers again, just to drive the point home.

   "Yesh... Gimme..."

   The squirrel smiled, poking his cock around the fluffy thighs.

   "Ask nicer", he said, rapidly fingering the male.

   "Mmmmmh... Aahn... I said gimme... Your... cock... now..."

   Astia paused for a moment, or at least his thoughts did. His fingers kept working PK:s greedy hole without much thought or mercy.

   "I said nicer! Don't you, mm, have any manners?"

   At this stage, both his index and middle finger were very much inside the kneeling PK. His butt was still high in the air, hips responding to the motions of Astia's digits. The fuzzybun was smaller, and appeared even more so as his face sank into the blankets. His moans echoed around the room.

   "Mmnaaaah... PLEASE! God damn fuck, ah, mh, I... hnnngh, never should, oh, have taken the... blasted... mmn... collar off!"

   Astia couldn't help but grin, stuffing his digits in a few more times and then taking them out, stroking PK:s back with his other paw.

   "That's a good fuzzybun... And yes, you might regret that decision soon."  

The height difference between the two males was apparent, around half a meter. As such, Astia could take PK from behind with relative ease despite the rather high bed and even higher-raised rump.

   Without much in terms of dialogue, the squirrel grabbed his cock once more, guiding it towards the slightly gaping hole in front of him. He inhaled sharply as the tip reached PK:s fuzzy fur, and then, with a quick push, snuck it inside. It was met with a pleased noise from within the blankets.

   "Mmmh... Go on... please..."

   And so the squirrel did. Grabbing a firm hold of that fuzzybun butt on both sides, he gradually yet effectively worked his way deeper. It was tight, surprising the rodent who was hesitant to push to deep at first.

   "Aah... Oh, I'm good..."

   Astia simply nodded, despite PK being unable to see the motion. The warm insides of PK were wrapping tight around his member, and Astia actually got really close to cumming here and then.

 However, he was determined to give a good ride once the opportunity to do so had arisen, thus was able to hold on.

   In front of him, PK, who was getting his rear slowly filled with squirrel, started to enjoy the occurrence by quite a bit. Earlier, cheeky and dominant male was replaced by a bent-over, swollen and simply lusty fuzzybun. The mantra started to repeat itself soon, urging Astia to keep going despite his initial doubts.

   "Mmn, deeper, faster, harder...Ah... Harder... faster... deeper... deeper... faster... Mhhhhhhnnn... harder!

   ...Oh... yesssh... deeper... deeeeeeeper... mmmoh. Oh. Oh. Yesh. Yes."

   Astia, quite turned to say the least, promptly forgot about silly things like holding back and personal responsibility. His claws sank deep into the fur, and then flesh, of PK:s butt, who started pushing his hips back even more in response. It would take all of the rodent's stamina, and then some, to hold on for much longer.

   And then he remembered about the ring. By now, PK had been holding on far beyond the ability of the average person. And it showed. His face was flushed with sweat and his expression was rather silly to say the least, grinning with dilated pupils, swinging about as his eyes had long since forgot about focusing on anything.  

  His grip on the blankets was so hard that they started to slowly tear, adding a ripping effect to the soundtrack of slaps, sighs, moans and a sharp exhale once Astia had managed to stuff his cock all the way to the hilt.

   The thrusting was continuous, and by now entirely mindless. Bodies were on autopilot, attending to only most ancient primal urges. Sweat was dripping from both males, and in Astia's case, something else was slowly leaking, too. As for PK, his member was starting to reach some sort of a critical mass.

   But squirrel kept going, faster, harder but no longer deeper, for he lacked the equipment necessary to drill that hole any more. Which was, for PK, probably the best, as he was already far beyond the usual levels of pleasure. The squirrelcock throbbing and pounding hard onto his tender insides and his body thrusting back at equal force, very little thought was given to the structural integrity of the bed. Or poor PK, for that matter.

   "I, ah... umf... can't hold on much... Ahn, longer!"

   The rodent was past his point of no return. Pleasure was mounting by every thrust, and now he could feel the rest of the blood rush away from his head. Losing the feel from his crotch, he thrusted in deep, then once more just as his load was released. His breaths got very rapid, inhaling and exhaling sharply as he simply couldn't stop cumming inside that tight butt, PK:s insides getting thoroughly stretched with each serving of the squirrel's warm seed. He moaned lusciously, head sinking deeper into those blankets as his belly was finally filled and even slightly inflated.

   Astia almost fell backwards, just managing to hold on to the lamp as he pulled his limp member out, producing a trail of his own spunk with it. Paying no mind to the rather sticky state of his crotch, he fell forward instead, exhausted and tired, still basking in the afterglow of his own orgasm.

   PK, on the other hand, needed more. His butt wide agape and leaking with Astia's cum, it would take a while before he could properly move. He opened his arms to embrace the approaching male.

   Squirrel, to his surprise, was instead met with a ringless, swollen and throbbing cock right in front of his face. He turned to his side, managing to land a soft peck onto its tip. Astia looked up, and saw PK:s wicked grin, coupled with a certain fire in his eyes, very much ready to violate Astia's throat once more.  

 Penetration itself was swift. Our rodent was far too tired and pleased to resist much, which would've been wise if he knew what was coming. PK's lust had risen to levels far beyond the comprehension of mere mortals, and as soon as Astia opened his mouth, he drove in with little in the way of holding back.

   Astia gagged, his head quickly driven into the pillow behind. He tried to grab a hold of PK:s thighs, but the male drove right through, not paying much attention anything else than the long-awaited prize. The squirrel's throat bulged, his eyes still fixed to the massive shaft and the rate in which it was disappearing inside him. It was throbbing at an alarming rate, his throat already sore and was now being used even more brutally than before.  

PK soon mounted Astia entirely, laying atop of him and fucking the poor squirrel's mouth and throat senseless. The rodent couldn't do much to help the cause, sinking deeper in the bed and bracing himself for the inevitable. Soon, however, the thrusting stopped, but this meant only the start of Astia's problems.

   He couldn't help but let out a loud moan as his paws grabbed a hold of Astia's hair. The release was swift, for the load practically exploded into his throat. The endless stream of hot load far exceeded the rodent's admittably admirable capacity, and the sticky fluid soon draped out between his lips and the throbbing, well-lubed shaft.

   Soon, they had both become a sticky mess laying atop of the bed. Astia was barely conscious with his eyes rolled to the back, mouth agape and flooding with PK:s salty yet delicious fluids. It dripped steadily onto his jaw, sides of his neck and to the bed, where a small puddle was forming. Most of it, however, had made its way down his throat and into his belly, expanding the already fluffy squirrel even more.  

   And PK was laying there, next to him, his flaccid member resting lazily against Astia's paw. He, too, looked well and truly out of it. The fuzzybun made his way a little closer, snugging himself tightly to Astia before they both fell to well-deserved rest amidst their own fluids.

   The black notebook was on the table, open. It had an unfinished picture of a squirrel, getting quite intimate with the artist himself. Beside it were some coffee stains and a question mark.


You



   Floodlight, bright and large, turned on. March had just turned to April, days were starting to get longer but it was not quite summer yet. However, nobody, not even the locals were wearing jackets.

   Florida was plenty warm this time of the year. Surface of the concrete had cracked from many places. It was uneven to say the least, many bumps and holes leading to skidmarks. A small cover of dust laid unsettled on the edged, at places joined by hapless pieces of grass, torn from the earth by a passing racer.

   In the grandstands, there were many anxious supporters. Far from silent, the crowds constant murmuring was nevertheless easily overlapped by the loud cars. From the straight six Porsches to the V12 Aston Martins, the action on track was constant and nonstop in multiple classes. Cars in various colors, piloted by a plethora of brave drivers were entering the very final laps of a long and grueling journey.

   It had taken 12 hours to reach this point. Not to mention all testing, trying to find that last tenth and making sure each and every part, from the chassis itself to the smallest of bolts, was properly fitted and ready to take on the stress. Constant fiddling and fine-tuning followed, for each minor adjustment could yield that final edge in performance over the opponents. All in all, each team had probably spent months preparing for the season, past few weeks on that one single race.  

And finally, to the loud cheers of the gathered spectators, a mostly grey Corvette Daytona Protype came into view. It was bouncing and looked very unsettled, traveling at speeds excess of 200kph even while turning, but it was something they had seen almost each and every lap. An old man, well in his 70s, was waving the checkered flag on a small tower beside the pit wall. The car straightened, then turned briefly to both directions before driving right beside the barrier and past the tower.

   Mechanics and engineers alike hugged, shouted and raised their hands in celebration. Two other drivers, biting their nails in the garage, embraced each other in both joy and sheer disbelief. Had someone told them they would be spraying champagne tonight just three hours ago, they would've both told the person to get their head checked. Yet here they were, about to go and do just that. In front of some 80,000 people.  

   Astia was crying, and not even trying to hide it despite being very aware of onboard cameras. Soon, those pictures were transmitted all over the world, to the interest and delight of race fans everywhere. One of those who would see them was his ex-team manager, foolish enough to let him go after a disappointing season. He, too, would see that his decision was perhaps the wrong one. But, as they say, hindsight's 20/20.

   The squirrel pinched the bridge of his nose with his gloved paws. He had raised his visor long since, right after crossing the finish line. He waved from the window, and was greeted with waving flags and appreciating applause. American crowds were always eager to cheer for the underdog, the one who simply wouldn't give up. Not even when all hope was seemingly lost.  

Only three hours earlier, their car was brought into the pits from 4th place. The previous driver had a minor collision with a slower GT car, and as a result, the car now looked very much wounded. Left front panel was amiss, some of the bodywork was hitting the tyre itself, which had promptly torn and deflated as a result. The only upside was that they were due a scheduled pitstop anyway, so they didn't have to make an additional one for repairs. Still, the situation looked grim.

   Mechanics went into work swiftly however, and soon a whole new front cover was installed. It had taken only little over a minute, all in all, plus tyre change and refueling. Still, it was a minute they simply couldn't afford, not when the lead battle was very tight and there were various questions regarding the state of brakes, front cooling and hydraylics. And as if that wasn't enough, the power steering was no longer working.

   Yet Astia drove the race of his life. Four stints, each one 45 minutes long, and at times lapping over a second faster than anyone else over the 6km-long Sebring International Raceway. By the time he had taken the lead, nearly every warning light and dial was red, the tyres were worn beyond recognition and the driver himself, not the fittest of squirrels admittably, was sweating profusely, nearly every bone in his body, every muscle and every joint hurt from the constant G-forces and bumps rattling him to the very core.

   But both the car and the driver held on, to the astonishment of rivals and supporters alike. And once Astia drove the car into the pits and was helped from the cockpit, he couldn't even express his need for water (his in-car bottles having expired about halfway through the final stint) before getting swarmed by his own team-mates and everyone who had contributed to the success.  

On the podium, American flag was raised, joined with the Belgian one. Both national anthems played, and as they had finished, the squirrel got drenched in champagne. Not that he wasn't busy doing the same to other drivers, too, including the fellow drivers from his team. Wasteful use of an expensive drink? Perhaps, but a tradition is a tradition and is to be duly followed.

   And standing there, overcome with joy and fulfillment, he was taking in the whole atmosphere. Posing for pictures and hands raised in joy alongside his trusted compatriots, when questioned about how he could produce such a stunning drive, Astia simply pointed to the crowd, waving. They cheered in response, as crowds tend to do.

   Deep within the rows of people stood a short male. He had a black notebook, beige jeans and a checkered, turquoise shirt. His long fishtail was swinging about slowly behind his back. And he couldn't help smiling once Astia pointed to him.

  
   Times change indeed.



Endnotes & Credits



Story is written in its entirety by Astia Tuohenkolo.

All events are entirely fictional & not based on real-life events.

All characters, their personalities and actions are inspired by their players.

Various locations, such as Zandvoort, the hotel and Sebring International Raceway and their descriptions are made to loosely resemble their real-life counterparts.

Major credit to PawKnight for inspiring me to create this story. It turned out to be one that I very much enjoyed writing. Finishing a short story in two days is something I've never even thought of trying, let alone doing.

Finally, I'm still experimenting with proper formatting. It's a major pain, and in hindsight, I should've just left it alone. Oh well.


May contain nuts.

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