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He now lives as a bounty hunter by night, grunge bassist by day.", "count": "161", "submission_left_submission_id": "1039557", "submission_left_file_name": "1433150_GratitudeAdvocate_cyiakanami_-_maxwell___midshift-celesti.png", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/1433/1433150_GratitudeAdvocate_cyiakanami_-_maxwell___midshift-celesti.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/1433/1433150_GratitudeAdvocate_cyiakanami_-_maxwell___midshift-celesti.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/1433/1433150_GratitudeAdvocate_cyiakanami_-_maxwell___midshift-celesti.jpg", "submission_left_thumb_huge_x": "100", "submission_left_thumb_huge_y": "100", "submission_left_thumb_large_x": "100", "submission_left_thumb_large_y": "100", "submission_left_thumb_medium_x": "100", "submission_left_thumb_medium_y": "100", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge_noncustom": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/1433/1433150_GratitudeAdvocate_cyiakanami_-_maxwell___midshift-celesti.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_large_noncustom": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/1433/1433150_GratitudeAdvocate_cyiakanami_-_maxwell___midshift-celesti_noncustom.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium_noncustom": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/1433/1433150_GratitudeAdvocate_cyiakanami_-_maxwell___midshift-celesti_noncustom.jpg", "submission_left_thumb_medium_noncustom_x": "106", "submission_left_thumb_medium_noncustom_y": "120", "submission_left_thumb_large_noncustom_x": "176", "submission_left_thumb_large_noncustom_y": "200", "submission_left_thumb_huge_noncustom_x": "265", "submission_left_thumb_huge_noncustom_y": "300", "submission_right_submission_id": "1009866", "submission_right_file_name": "1389250_GratitudeAdvocate_max___milly.rtf", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/1389/1389250_GratitudeAdvocate_max___milly.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/1389/1389250_GratitudeAdvocate_max___milly.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/1389/1389250_GratitudeAdvocate_max___milly.jpg", "submission_right_thumb_huge_x": "200", "submission_right_thumb_huge_y": "200", "submission_right_thumb_large_x": "200", "submission_right_thumb_large_y": "200", "submission_right_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_right_thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "description": "On December 27th, 2014, after a short three-month delay due to classes (priorities first, children!), I received this wonderfully sexy piece of art from @Jaxneesen as a typical request. \n\nSince then (not to mention many fap-sessions later), I opted to write a story to accompany these two and their naughty antics. \n\nThis was meant to be written MUCH sooner, but increased levels of stress ran their ugly duration over time and bogged down my muse quite a bit. Luckily though, I felt compelled to return to this pairing and churn up a small story to accompany the original piece of artwork. :D\n\nSo now then! Enjoy the read, the stroke/prod session, the fun times aplenty had by all. \nIf you'd like to, leave a comment/critique/complaint/death threat/etc.etc.etc.\nActually, no - don't send me a death threat. That would be depressing.\nBut yes. Share your thoughts! If you feel inclined to, anyways. ;)\n\nMarvelous piece of artwork & Sydney the cute lil' fox-coon girl (and Penelope Peahen) (C) @Jaxneesen\nAmusing piece of literature to accompany said piece of artwork & Maxwell (C) @GratitudeAdvocate\n\nOOOH SNAP!! Hey look! A written sequel and revealing expose:\n#m1543118\n\nAND TO CELEBRATE THE TURN OF 2020 (and a current ongoing Patreon-funded comic project that's in development hiatus so hey, why not brush off a little cyber-dust?), the comic. So far. ;3\nI'm a shepcoon who delivers on promises... most of the time! X) \nALL comic artwork, sketches, the Playbunny idea, the 3D barn render and Sydney Padfoot, foxcoon girl extraordinaire (C) @Jaxneesen - a very fine artist, indeed. :) \n\nI wonder if anyone else might be curious to either continue with this project, or try to let it ride out thus far and let our imaginations go wild as to how things went JUST before they get... y'know... then you'd have to abide by what I have already written! YEEEHAAAWW\n\n:3\nHappy New Year, my fellow IB companions! ", "description_bbcode_parsed": "On December 27th, 2014, after a short three-month delay due to classes (priorities first, children!), I received this wonderfully sexy piece of art from \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
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tJaxneesen\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\tJaxneesen\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
as a typical request.

Since then (not to mention many fap-sessions later), I opted to write a story to accompany these two and their naughty antics.

This was meant to be written MUCH sooner, but increased levels of stress ran their ugly duration over time and bogged down my muse quite a bit. Luckily though, I felt compelled to return to this pairing and churn up a small story to accompany the original piece of artwork. :D

So now then! Enjoy the read, the stroke/prod session, the fun times aplenty had by all.
If you'd like to, leave a comment/critique/complaint/death threat/etc.etc.etc.
Actually, no - don't send me a death threat. That would be depressing.
But yes. Share your thoughts! If you feel inclined to, anyways. ;)

Marvelous piece of artwork & Sydney the cute lil' fox-coon girl (and Penelope Peahen) (C) \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
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tJaxneesen\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\tJaxneesen\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

Amusing piece of literature to accompany said piece of artwork & Maxwell (C) \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
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tGratitudeAdvocate\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\tGratitudeAdvocate\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t


OOOH SNAP!! Hey look! A written sequel and revealing expose:
\r\n\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\tWhat Happened Between Max & Sydney? by GratitudeAdvocate\r\n\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t


AND TO CELEBRATE THE TURN OF 2020 (and a current ongoing Patreon-funded comic project that's in development hiatus so hey, why not brush off a little cyber-dust?), the comic. So far. ;3
I'm a shepcoon who delivers on promises... most of the time! X)
ALL comic artwork, sketches, the Playbunny idea, the 3D barn render and Sydney Padfoot, foxcoon girl extraordinaire (C) \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
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tJaxneesen\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\tJaxneesen\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
- a very fine artist, indeed. :)

I wonder if anyone else might be curious to either continue with this project, or try to let it ride out thus far and let our imaginations go wild as to how things went JUST before they get... y'know... then you'd have to abide by what I have already written! YEEEHAAAWW

:3
Happy New Year, my fellow IB companions! ", "writing": "As the vixen-coon girl's lips wrapped around Maxwell's cock snug and tight, he kept a close eye open on his surroundings, hoping to the Gods of all things furry than nobody could see what was going on between the shep-coon and his horny ten-year-old farm-hand.\n~\n\"So, you'll be the one working with me today, huh?\" Sydney Padfoot, a spry young hybrid cub-girl, asked Maxwell Blackburnadeaux, a tall and slender shepherd-raccoon anthro-canine with an eye patch and a ringed tail. Sydney wasn't used to seeing other hybrids, nevertheless working alongside them on her foster mother's farm. Her fox-slit pupils widened then retracted at the sight of his glistening hair, dreadlocked and tied back in a ponytailed bundle. This guy obviously had a story behind his involvement with the Peahen Ranch. Sydney figured he'd spill the beans all in due time… for now, it'd be best to just keep him occupied and working hard, so as not to bother or annoy him. The petite vixen-coon girl also wondered how big his dick got when hard, knowing that most canine guys his age usually wound up developing quite a large, bulbous knot at the peak of their firmness. Max looked fit and trim enough to handle the excesses of hard farming labor, regardless of his probable weenie size. She contented herself, ensuring that this week wouldn't be a total drag in the long run. A slight hint of moisture dampened her cub-hood.\n\"Yes, it would appear so.\" Maxwell replied, adjusting his tank-top, brushing off the dust that had gathered upon its cottony surface. Sydney surveyed the older anthro guy silently and with fascinated interest, eyes gazing upon his noodle-like dirty-blonde hair. Maxwell looked around at the endless fields and spanning mountain ranges all around the property with wide eyes, absorbing the sheer beauty of it all. His shepherd-sized hand-paws flexed and curled repeatedly, suggesting a bit of nervousness on his end. Sydney wondered if this old dog ever worked on a farm before, then immediately suspended the idea. Of course not. His life revolves around anything but farm-hand work. Lil' Sootface would see to his training, ensuring he knew his way around the ranch right proper. No matter what it took; even if he needed to let loose some pent-up energy, which always seemed to frustrate older guys, she'd be the one to help him out.\n\"Right! Follow me then, big guy, we'll see if we can't get you set in stone.\" Sydney said, silently wondering if anything else on this big ol' shep-coon was currently set in stone. She grinned with a devilish feistiness that no ten-year-old vixen-coon girl should possibly understand or comprehend. \"Oh, another thing!\" Sydney said, stopping dead in her tracks, letting Max bump into her hind-end and enjoying the slight hint of bulge she felt in his tattered denim jeans. \"I hope you aren't allergic to hay. We'll be around lots of it today. Haha! I'm a poet and I didn't even know it!\" She guffawed hysterically, sounding stupidly adorable - to herself, at least.\nMax gulped aloud, throat clicking, larynx bobbing visibly against his fur-tufted neck. \"Not at all, you little poet.\" He replied. Sydney flashed a thumb-paws-up at her new working buddy and ran towards a large red barn, clicking open a latch to swing its tall front doors wide open. Max was exposed to a dusty interior with a steep cathedral-arched ceiling. The inside of the barn had oval-curved water basins against all four corners, horse stables lined up five in a row in the center of the rear wall, a pig pen on the right side of the barn and a sheep and goat pen adjacently positioned, all of which took up a majority of the barn-space from within. In a well-sized loft suspended above the second story of the building, Max saw a large pyramid of hay bales stacked roughly six to eight blocks high, occupying roughly ninety percent of the upper tier. \n\"Damn, that's a shitload of hay!\" Max exclaimed, honestly amazed. Sydney chuckled and shrugged her shoulders, like it wasn't too big a deal. \"Oh, pardon my language, young miss.\"\n\"No problem! I've heard way worse before.\" Sydney replied. Max scoffed and reached his arms up over his head, stretching wide, groaning. Lil' Sootface heard a few joints snap and pop as the one-eyed shep-coon leaned back, amazed to see him still standing upright.\n[i]Man, you see one barn filled with hay, you've seen 'em all.[/i] Sydney thought to herself as she trotted to a large ladder that rose up to the edge of the loft's surface, roughly thirty rungs high. She climbed up fast, reaching the top with impressive speed to knock down a few large bundled bales with a sickle-hook, suspended off the edge of the second floor, hung like a Christmas tree ornament. Max was impressed with her ninja-like agility and climbing speed. He had a certain aversion to heights, so it always thrilled him to see younger anthros handle high-rise areas with ease. At least these younger anthro-kids weren't gigantic pussies about something as mundane as heights. \nSydney's choice of fashion didn't exactly vibe with the work at hand, but Max figured she most likely knew what she was doing. Hell, she'd lived on this ranch for most of her life anyways, this much he knew without even asking. Or did he really know this? Maybe she too was brought here for the week to work off a debt of some sort, much like he was doing, no thanks to his drunken stupidity. There was a time and a place for such questions to be asked and answered - this was neither. Especially when the first bale of hay came crashing down in front of his foot-paws. Max jumped back, snapped free from his involved thoughts. Sydney gasped, stifling a flurry of hysterical laughter.\n\"Whoops! Sorry 'bout that, buddy! I almost gave you a hay-shower, huh?\" Max just glared up at her silently. \"Yeah, that would've been messy. Heh.\" \nThe young vixen-raccoon anthro-girl wore a very revealing pair of denim jean-shorts, causing Max to see a hint of yellow striped panties as she climbed up the ladder. Or maybe that was just her natural fur-tones? Perhaps he didn't see her underwear as much as he actually saw the surface of her taint in such a brief glimpse that lasted roughly half a second. Max stifled a blush and suddenly sported a stealth erection. Was this from her nudging herself up against his groin earlier? Or maybe her youthful figure? Had he really been that damn hosed up that he felt a strangely sexual attraction to this... kid? This young girl?\n[i]Moron! It's not like you haven't engaged in intercourse with cubs before. Remember Milly...[/i]\nHe insisted that the stiffy just pass on and leave him be, since there was work to be done. Pleasure could be had later, after-hours - when all of today's business was situated. Then he'd have six more days to go. Six more days to lend a hand at the fame-acclaimed peacock fashionista Penelope Peahen's renowned working ranch. Some disputed the place to be a child orphanage, others considered it a living breathing wreck. Max saw plenty of charm and elegance in the place though, nestled on a scenic patch of numerous acres on the outskirts of Denver, Colorado. The air was crisp and clean, the scenery was thriving with beauty and pure nature - what more could any shep-coon possibly ask for?\nHe'd brought a few girlie mags for the very occasion of self-pleasure, figuring he'd be able to get away with a quick fapping before sleep overpowered his senses. He thought of the magazines and the scantly-clad beauties from within who adorned those many pages and fold-outs as he watched Sydney, wondering if she were aware of what pornography was exactly, if she'd ever accidentally caught some nudie mags lying around or grew curious enough to search \"Sex\" or \"Vagina\" or what-the-hell-ever on the internet. Realization dawned on Maxwell: what if there is no internet service here? Also was the peacock-woman in charge of things really the \"Furry Fever\" or \"Masculine Murriness\" type? Like hell. Fat chance. No way, amigo. Forget it.\nSydney, oblivious to Max's overworking imaginative and dutifully perverted mind, continued to yank and throw down hay bales. She wore a white spaghetti-strap shirt underneath a loose-fitting tank-top with spiral designs adorning its surface; something her foster mother definitely put her up to wearing, no doubt. That, or Sydney had the most eccentric fashion sense Max had ever seen in a cub-girl her age… probably about fourteen or so, give or take. Then again, Max had never been precisely accurate at guessing ages, so that could've been a rough estimate.\nWhen she dropped the second bale of hay, her shirt stretched out just enough for Max to catch an impromptu glimpse of her chest and underdeveloped breasts. He was reminded of mosquito-bites on a human child's arm. This connection caused Max to laugh aloud. Sydney looked down at the shep-coon with confused eyes, wondering what on earth struck him so dang funny. If he were laughing at the hook impaling hay bales, he had a rather morbid sense of humor, indeed.\n\"You alright down there, chief?\" Sydney asked, shucking down a third and fourth bale, just about enough for the livestock. Max cleared his throat and nodded up to her, winking. She cocked her head funny, eying down Maxwell with a confused glance.\n\"Oh, uh… yeah! I'm fine. Just thought of something funny, that's all. You know what that's like?\" Max asked, refusing to admit to this young cub-girl exactly what he was laughing about. [i]Itty bitty titties, good for foxes, not for kitties.[/i] This caused Max to laugh even harder still, hunkering over to rest his hand-paws on his knees, catching a breath in hopes that he wouldn't fall over with his sides sore and tears streaming from his intact eyelid. She shrugged as her own eyes drifted up, casting her gaze at the ceiling, deep in thought. Sydney decided to throw Max a right proper curve-ball, simply guessing aloud.\n\"I bet it has something to do with my little boobies, doesn't it?\" Sydney asked with calm assurance. Maxwell started excessively. His ears perked straight up and his tail ruffled its fur outright. How in the hell could she have guessed so well? \"Nah, just kidding. Heeheehee! Mama Peahen told me about how some boys like to stare at girls because they have overactive weenies. I think that’s silly though… don't you, Mr. B?\" Sydney snorted with timid laughter while Max did his very best to hide his shep-coon erection from her prying eyes, those fox-slit, yellow, curiously affectionate and borderline-depraved eyes. He wondered if she was messing with his sorry ass or actively flirting with the older farm-hand on purpose. Either way, he hoped she'd watch herself, or else she may woo his affections radically.\n\"Silly, yeah. And hey!\" Max hollered. Sydney looked down at him, regarding his attentive single eye, admiring his slender handsomeness, despite his facial flaw. \"Call me Maxwell. Not Mr. B. I feel old as dirt when kids call me that nonsense.\" Max smiled up to the vixen-coon, having made a pact of sorts. Sydney winked and clicked her tongue, giving him the A-OK hand gesture.\n~\nAfter the sun sunk below the far-distant horizon, scorching the summer sky with thriving bursts of red, purple and vermillion, bed-time crept upon the ranch. Max and Sydney both enjoyed a plate of Carne Asada tacos prepared by Penelope herself, who wore about five separate napkins on her evening dress. Sydney later explained to Max that Ms. Peahen was very anal about getting her clothing dirty. Max chuckled laughter through his toothbrush, wondering where in the devil she'd learned that particularly derogatory yet strangely fitting term. He nodded and spat foamy toothpaste out into a sink basin as Sydney flossed her chompers, staring at Maxwell the entire time.\nWhen they were both tidied up, Penelope offered spare blankets to Maxwell, refusing to make eye contact with the shep-coon. He wondered if the idea of his one good eye intimidated her, or maybe it was his hair. In any case, he thanked her kindly and proceeded to lay out a small makeshift padded sleeping space upon the floor of the guest room. Sydney watched him from the doorway, leaned up against a wooden frame, arm raised over her head, brows curled, one corner of her mouth perked upward, wondering what on earth he thought he was doing.\n\"Y'know, you could just use the bed.\" She said to Max. The shep-coon started and reeled back, not expecting her to be there. \"Oh what, did I scare you again? Jeez, man, relax.\"\n\"Sorry. You're just so… silent! You'd make a very good ninja in another lifetime, I think.\" Max said, clearing his throat, ironing out the excess folds in the blanket with his paw-padded palms, attempting to catch his breath. \"And thanks for the offer, but I'd rather not worry about messing the bedsheets up. It's made so well, I'd feel bad if I were to change that. Besides, I've always heard that second stories in these kind of houses tend to get… stuffy. So I figured why not camp out on the ground? Not too dirty and actually quite comfy.\" Sydney just looked at Max as if he were the biggest dork in all of existence. \"What, you don't think I know what I'm talking about?\"\n\"Nah, man, you're cool. Just… sleep tight! On the ground! You total weirdo.\" Sydney remarked as she strolled away, feet-paws scuffling along the hardwood floor of the hallway. Max sighed and stood up from his knelt-down position. If only she knew just how weird he could be. Oh man, if only!\nHe walked over to a far corner of the guest room to unzip and open a duffel bag he brought along with him during his week-long tenure. Inside were a few fresh changes of clothing, assorted toiletries, a small Native tobacco pipe given to him by his cousin Darrel, the promised girlie-mags and a framed photograph of his fellow band-mates and himself, all surrounding Gus, their manager. He missed his dearest friends, his alternate family. Ah well, surely Bradley and Maile were hanging in just fine without their shep-coon bassist and all-around smart-aleck stinking up the place. \n[i]Jeez, I miss them though. Kinda miss my bass guitar too. If only I could've brought it with me. Ah well. Peace and slumber never hurt anyone, I suppose.[/i]\nMax propped the photo upright on top of the room's single dresser and hid the magazines under the twin-sized bed's mattress, despite his disinterest in sleeping upon it. At least nobody else would think of checking there. Max heavily doubted that Penelope Peahen ever had children of her own, let alone boys, and Sydney wouldn't even dream of snooping around underneath the mattress… would she? Doubtful. \nMax stacked his clothing upon a wicker-chair set near the bedroom's lattice-paned window and grabbed for the bottles of shampoo, conditioner and body & fur scrub. He walked out from his guest room and entered the bathroom, not even thinking twice about knocking, since he was mentally conditioned to a lack of privacy in living with his band-mates and manager. As he pushed the door open, Sydney spun around, dropping a towel free from her grip. Maxwell caught an eye-full as she looked up at the shep-coon, eyes wide with shock, mouth open with her jaw agape and her tail jutted outward. Max's breath hitched in his lungs and his heart sped into triple-time as he felt equally embarrassed as fuck and shamed at having caught the young vixen-coon girl at her most vulnerably exposed. \n\"WOAH! Oh gosh, I'm sorry…\" Max blurted out as he ran away from the bathroom, not even giving her a chance to reply. He stormed into the bedroom and sat down hard upon the wicker-strewn chair, squashing his pile of clothing beneath his butt. He held tightly onto his few shower-laden bottles, trying to process what had just happened exactly. Not a moment's time passed when he heard a knock at the door. He glanced up and saw a strange reflection hovering half-way up from behind the door. The kind of reflection one sees when shining high-beams into a cat's eyes. He saw the slit pupil and a small hint of yellow. Max put the bottles down around his ankles. \"You can come in, I'm decent.\" At least, all things considered.\nSydney entered into Max's room, still naked as the day in which she was born. Now it was Maxwell's turn to look wide-eyed with a gaping jaw. She closed the door behind her, locking the doorknob tightly. Her tail swayed and jerked back and forth from behind her back gracefully. Max surveyed her skinny, petite young body. Her legs, arms and neck were so lanky, yet she possessed an early on-set hint of curvaceousness that would form quite well into her older years. \n~\nSydney twirled around on her heels and walked slowly towards Maxwell, still hunkered down in the straw-basket chair, still staring madly. The only sound that could be heard was a steady drone of crickets and frogs from outside and the pitter-pattering of Sydney's foot-paws as she walked with true elegance and grace, inching closer to the shep-coon with each new step taken. When she reached his showering needs, she crouched down and picked them up to read the labels.\n\"Oh! I didn't take you as a Paul Mitchell sort of guy. Nice. Isn't this stuff costly?\" Sydney asked Max, swaying her hips with a feeble, innocent expression.\n\"Yeah. He is-eh, that is. Quite costly.\" Maxwell's mouth felt numb, barely comprehensible. \"Look, I'm sorry about that. Didn't mean to walk in on you so suddenly, I'm just used to-\"\nSydney reached up and placed a single finger-paw on Max's snout, pressing it firmly against his lips, shushing him up in mid-speech.\n\"Sssssh… you're fine. No worries. I was actually, uh…\" Sydney fidgeted her heels together nervously, nibbling at her lower lip. \"To be honest, I was kinda hoping you'd walk in on me like that. You did nothing wrong. Don't worry. I won't tell if you won't. This can be our little secret.\" Sydney remarked, staring into Maxwell's face, that rugged, handsome shepherd's face, with a bandit-masked fur-tone and vibrant colors of green and yellow and- \"Oh! Your eye-patch isn't even on. Jeez! I didn’t even notice. Is your eye still…?\"\n\"Oh, this? Check it out.\" Max said. He opened his left eyelid wide and rolled the ocular prosthesis in a clock-wise motion. The iris changed color. Sydney gasped with astonishment. Max did it again and the color changed once more. \"I just roll my eye and it shifts through different eye hues. Cool, huh? It’s a fake eye and it cost more than you could imagine.\"\n\"So… do you sleep with it in your, uh… socket, like that?\" Sydney asked Max, earnestly curious.\n\"Yup. It never has bothered me either. Wanna see it taken out?\"\n\"No.\" Sydney said, reeling her head back. Her face scrunched into a litany of disgust. Maxwell smiled at her reaction. \"Thanks, but that's fine. I'll take your word for it.\"\n\"Okay then. So, uh… you'd better go get some PJs on or something.\" Max said to her.\n\"You sure you don't want to, I dunno… share that bed tonight?\" Sydney insisted, pointing to the twin-bed, totally unaware of dirty smut-magazines beneath its single mattress.\n\"Now why would I have you sleep in the same bed as me?\" Max asked her. \"I mean, you have your own bedroom, right? Surely you must be comfortable enough in there. Besides, you hardly know me anyways. Would Penelope be okay with this?\"\n\"Well, yeah. She could care less, I’m sure. And yeah, I have my own bedroom and I sleep in there. I'm comfortable there too, sometimes. But…\" Sydney began to pout a bit, slumping her shoulders and turning her head down, muzzle pointing at the floor, chin resting against her neck. \"Sometimes it gets really lonely at night. Cold, too. You say heat rises? Maybe, but not very often. Not here, at least. My foster mom is really strict with how hot or cold the house is, so she usually keeps it super-chilled at night. I bundle up in so many blankets yet still I can never really stay warm.\" Maxwell nodded, understanding her plight. Gus was very similar to Penelope, in a way. Must've been associated with aging.\n\"Okay, so you want to sleep in here tonight? I guess that's fine with me. Just make sure you-\"\n\"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! I was worried you'd say no!\" Sydney exclaimed. She leapt into Max's lap and hugged him tight, brushing her muzzle against his neck, resting her thighs and legs upon one of his knees, cradling his hip with her long, scraggly vixen's tail.\n\"Uh, Sydney? You're crushing me.\"\n\"I'm not even on your belly though.\"\n\"No, I mean…\" Max pointed to his crotch.\n\"Oh! Whoopsies! Sorry 'bout that.\" Sydney stepped off Max's lap immediately. She glimpsed down and saw that he had a massive erection. She presented a naughty expression to Maxwell, speaking in a sultry tone of voice, reminding herself of the ladies her foster mother worked with in fashion consulting. \"You know, I could keep you company tonight. You don't have to sleep alone, I don't have to freeze. We can keep each other warm and toasty. A total win-win situation. I don't mind one bit, as long as you don't either.\" Sydney said.\nMaxwell cleared his throat and nodded. \"Yeah? How do you figure?\"\n\"First things first, we need to forget about sleeping on the floor.\"\n\"Yeah, but I told you earlier abo-\"\n\"Uh, uh, uh!\" Sydney wiggled her finger-paw in front of Max's face, legs spread, hips cocked angularly with a hand-paw pressed to her side. Maxwell was amused at her pseudo-teacher pose. \"None of that, mister. C'mon! It'll be fun!\" Sydney said with an air of excitement present beneath her breath. \"Like a slumber party or something! We can pretend-play marriage! I'll be the humble house-wife and you'll be the hard-working farmer and husband!\" She ran and jumped upon the top of the bed, plopping her head down into a single pillow, rolling on the surface of the quilted spread-sheet cover.\n\"Okay, fine. But just for tonight, okay?\" Max insisted, stacking his shampoo essentials up against the chair's seated surface, behind the squished-down pile of clothing. Sydney nodded, smiling gracefully at the shep-coon. \n[i]My God, how do I get myself into these weird-ass situations? Now I have a naked vixen-girl rolling on my bed, the bed I didn't even want to use before she came along and insisted otherwise. Should I just give her the boot anyways? That'd be rude, since I pretty much gave her my promise. She wouldn't want to sleep on the floor either, it doesn't exactly suit her style. Dang it, just one night. One night! I can handle this. Not the end of the world. She wants to cuddle up and stay warm? I'll be a shep-coon teddy-bear for an evening. No problem.[/i]\n~\nThe problem didn't really start until a few hours later, when the lights were all turned off. Maxwell was awoken mid-sleep by a strange warmth sensation against his neck. He leaned his head back and saw that Sydney was propped right beside him. \n\"Uh, Sydney?\"\n\"Yeah?\"\n\"Were you… licking me?\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\"How come?\"\n\"Reasons.\"\n\"What kind of reasons?\"\n\"I dunno. Reasons, no big deal.\"\n\"How old are you?\"\n\"It's rude for a guy to ask that question to a girl.\"\n\"Okay. I'm twenty-nine. There, now we're even.\"\n\"Fine…. I'm ten.\"\n\"Ten years old? Really?\"\n\"Yeah, why?\"\n\"I thought you were older.\"\n\"People always say I'm mature for my age.\"\n\"Mature enough to sleep with strange anthro-guys in the nude?\"\n\"At least you're warm, Mr. B.\"\n\"What'd I tell you about calling me that?\"\n\"Sorry, Maxwell. Or do you prefer Max?\"\n\"I prefer whatever you feel comfortable calling me.\"\n\"Would you be weirded out if I called you Daddy?\"\nMaxwell glanced down into Sydney's face. In the pale solemnity of moonlight, he could just make out her features. He felt compelled to ask her about her parents but didn't want to offend her, so he decided against it.\n\"Do you still have your mom and dad, Max?\" Sydney asked Maxwell.\nMax shook his head.\n\"What happened to them?\"\n\"Well, they were… bad people.\"\n\"So they left you too? Just like me. We're not too different, you and I.\"\nMaxwell's heart broke for her with that having been said.\n\"Did you know your parents, Sydney?\" Max asked her.\n\"Not really. I heard stories from Penelope, but that's about it.\"\n\"I see.\" Max caressed her shoulder graciously. \"Sorry about that, girl.\"\n\"No worries. I mean, I didn't become some weirdo as a result. Or did I?\" She asked herself. Max giggle-snorted aloud.\n\"No, you aren't weird at all. In fact, you're a far cry from weird.\"\n\"Maxwell?\"\n\"Yeah?\"\n\"You snorted just now when you laughed.\" Sydney smiled wide, teeth glistening in the moonlight. \"That was funny as heck.\" \n\"What can I say? I have my moments.\" Max insisted. He reached out and pulled Sydney's slender young body close to his own, hugging her tight. She breathed with rapid succession, bathing Max's neck in heat. Soon he felt his groin tickling and tingling. Oh hell, not again. \n\"Maxwell?\" \n\"What's up?\"\n\"Can I ask you a favor?\"\n\"Sure thing, kiddo.\"\n\"Can you… uh… well, I'm not allowed to say vulgar words, but…\"\n\"You're not with your foster mom. You can tell me whatever is on your mind, I won't hold it against you or think differently of you at all. What did you want to ask me?\" Max braced for a bomb-shell, not exactly expecting the worst.\n\"Okay. Can you… do me?\"\nMaxwell's pulse throbbed against his forehead and his knees quivered. \"What?\"\n\"The adults always say 'fuck me' but that's dirty, so I asked you if you'd, y'know… do me. So? Can you do me on this bed tonight, Max? I won't say a word if you promise not to either.\"\n\"Sydney, you're ten years old. Definitely not old enough to be engaging in this sort of thing.\"\n[i]Yeah, neither was Milly, but you fucked her vagina and came deep in her anyways, didn't you, shep-coon? You fucking hypocritical jack-ass rat bastard, just answer her plea and fuck the girl already. She's obviously a bit lonely, deprived of pleasure living with that ditzy-ass peacock-woman, lacking in friends. Who's to say she hasn't had a few other older gentlefur's dicks shoved into her tight young vixen-coon pussy before? You won't know until you get your feet-paws wet, pal. Get over your high-horse, embrace your carnal urges and succumb to your desires. Answer her beckoning call and FUCK HER SILLY BRAINS OUT UNTIL SHE MOANS YOUR NAME ALOUD IN LATIN, YOU GODDAM SON OF A JUNKIE BITCH![/i]\nSydney wrapped her legs around Max's waist and began to grind against him. She wrapped her arms around his chest and proceeded to lick at his neck. Long, passionate lapping licks that started from his collarbone and reached up to the cusp of his earlobe. She was horny as fuck, even at such a young age. \n\"I don't think this is a good idea, girl. Maybe you should go to your room and get some sle-\"\nSydney then shoved herself down upon Max's lap, clenching his muzzle shut with both her hand-paws. She stared into his one good eye with a pair of fire-drenched eyes that could ignite dampened oakwood.\n\"I think you should know something about me. All my life, I've been cast aside. Orphaned at a young age, neglected by my own parents. I was taught to fend for myself earlier than most cub-girls my age could ever dream of. I never asked to be adopted by anyone. Penelope Peahen, my less-than-ideal foster parent, saw something in me - some kind of potential, I'm not sure. She adopted me though, brought me here to live with her, to help out with the farm, to endure home-schooling and maintain a few friendships I made while in the orphanage. Most of the girls live really far away now but a few still linger in this area, so I'm not completely alone but. But.\" Sydney tightened her grip on Maxwell's muzzle, gritting her teeth, brow curled down in a furiously enraged snarl. \"I don’t ever see anyone like you. Ever. I had a friend who was so into you, into your music, your band, your style. I never did understand what she saw in you. I didn't care to understand. But now, as I see you in person, right here before my very eyes, I think I can relate to what she felt like. She was smitten with you. Enamored by you. That's what she always said, at least. I never knew what those words even meant. I think they must have something to do with loving you like crazy though. Even with your weird eye and your messed-up fur, she still wouldn't ever shut up about how incredibly hot you were, how sexy your voice sounded, how gorgeous your poses were while playing that bass guitar of yours. I took all of that for granted and could honestly care less before. But for now? Right now? You're here for a week. Just one stretch of five, maybe seven days. In this time, I want you to fuck me hard at least once. I want to know what it feels like to get fucked by a rock-star.\"\n[i]Why in poo-perfect hell does everyone always presume I'm a rock-star?!\nHell, because I am. I guess. She thinks so, at least. I simply can't let her down.[/i]\n\"Okh, Sdh. I fh yu.\" Max murmured.\n\"What?\" Sydney loosened her grip around Max's muzzle.\n\"I said I'll fuck you. If that's what you want, anyways.\"\nSydney produced a single tear from the corner of her eyelid that ran down her cheek and splashed upon Max's chest. \"Thank you, Max.\" She said to him.\n~\nThe next morning, Maxwell awoke to an empty bed. Sometime during the night, Sydney had decided to return back to her bedroom. He thought the entire evening's occurrence was just a very vivid dream, perhaps a wet dream granted unto his sleep-straddled subconscious by the demonic entities of forlorn lust and longing. He lifted the bed-sheets and noticed he was nude. A large splotch of dried semen rested caked upon his belly. \n[i]Fucking shit, that wasn't a dream after all.[/i]\n~\nFarm-working was pretty radical shit if one wasn't used to it entirely. Luckily for Maxwell, his tolerance was quite strong and he managed to get the hang of the entire process immediately. \nAt one point, Sydney smacked Max's butt and ran off into a vast field of tall grass. \"Tag! You're it!\" She hollered at the top of her lungs. Maxwell shook his head, dropped the pitchfork he'd been using to lift hay into a wheelbarrow and ran after her, growling aloud like a demented were-shep-coon. She laughed with righteous intensity as he bee-lined and swirled, keeping up behind her tail. Eventually she winded down and he caught up with her, tapping the top of her head. \n\"Tag.\" Max said with a smirk.\n\"Okay, okay… so you can run. But I wonder…\" Sydney licked at her lips and knelt down in front of the shep-coon. \"Can you last?\"\n\"Last? What'chu mean, girl?\" Maxwell asked the vixen-coon girl, as if he didn't know what she'd meant already.\n\"Let's play a new game. I'm going to lick and suck your penis and you have to make it last for as long as possible. If you squirt that weird white yogurt-like stuff into my mouth that tastes salty and smells like seawater, the game is over. Got it?\n\"Are you sure that's a very good idea, out in the open like this?\" Max asked Sydney. They'd arrived at a long metallic hitching post for the horses, cows and whatever else needed to be secured in place.\n\"Of course! Gosh, you are such a big baby. Now… let me just… strip… you down.\"\nSydney slid Max's T-shirt off his back, up his chest and off his head. She flung it into the grass, then removed her blouse and threw it on top of his shirt. She worked at Max's zipper, unbuttoning his jeans and licking at his abs, poking her nose into his navel. Max grabbed onto the post and held his grip tight while breathing deep and fast. He lifted his legs as Sydney removed his pants and chucked them over her shoulder, right into the ever-growing pile of their clothing. She slipped free from a new pair of short denim shorts (or maybe they were the same pair she wore yesterday?) and spread her legs wide, kneeling in front of Max's body. Sydney grabbed at his erect dog-cock with both hand-paws and began to stroke his knot and shaft, licking and kissing at his tip. He must've liked that, for Max began to murr excitably, moaning aloud.\n\"Mmmm…\" Sydney hummed, slurping her lips and tongue against the surface of Max's shaft, bobbing her head into his crotch. Her ears swayed and flopped against his belly as she sucked him off with ease, indulging in the taste of his throbbing dog-cock. Max wallowed in the amazing sensations of her tongue, her throat, her lips. He was on the verge of busting a nut and ejaculating into her vixen-coon mouth when she leaned back and caught a whiff of fresh air, having given Maxwell some luscious deep-throating action. \n\"How the fuck do you know about this kind of stuff?\" Maxwell asked her as she leaned back beneath the hitching post and rested her back upon their make-shift pile of clothing, reaching down to finger at her vagina, pinching her clitoris, rubbing one of her nipples, surveying Max from head to toe-paw, drowning in the incredulous potency of his raw abundant rock-star sexual prowess. \n\"I learned a few things in the orphanage. Those magazines of yours helped too. Mama Peahen chooses the lamest hiding places sometimes, Y'know? She couldn't fool me. I really enjoyed seeing all those poses, they inspired me quite a bit.\"\n[i]I knew it. Fucking little vandal, she did go through my belongings. Both of them! I should bust their asses… yeah, and maybe fuck this fox-coon girl, too. She'd like that, wouldn't she? Hell, I'd like that. She appears to be begging for it, or something quite like it. Maybe I should heed her call? What harm could that possibly do, other than tarnish my reputation?[/i]\nSydney waved her hand-paws towards the ground where she lay, spread-legged and aroused beyond the stars, feeling her tight little tailhole winking freely at Maxwell. \n\"Smoking is bad for you, Max. Don't you know that? I also learned the names of our nation's presidents, the Pythagorean theorem and how sex works. So… come on down here and put my lessons to the test, Daddy.\"\nMaxwell was impressed. Learning Pi at such a young age? Holy shit, he wasn't just being wooed by any young fox-coon girl. Quite suddenly, Maxwell felt an inconceivable urge to faint hard on the spot. Maybe that was all the blood rushing from his head, straight into his penis? Had to have been. He stroked at himself, cock slippery with traces of Sydney's saliva coating its surface, and knelt down above her slender young body. He felt the cigarette tucked into his earlobe slip free and fall to the ground. That was dealt with, at least. Max wondered why he never carried any condoms with him wherever he went.\n\"I hope you studied really hard, little farm-hand. When I'm through with you, I might just give you extra credit for your efforts. A for Anal, B for Blowjob, C for Cumming, D for Dick, E for Erection and a big fat F for... well, you know.\"\nSydney's eyes widened and became electric with anxious excitement. Her tail wagged quickly and her teeth were fully exposed in a sinister, hungry, passionate grin of sexual deviancy. She spread her vaginal folds and winked up to the rock-star shep-coon, begging him to make her a very happy hybrid, if not for another few days.\n[i]Good Lord, how do I get myself into these sort of situations?[/i]", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "As the vixen-coon girl's lips wrapped around Maxwell's cock snug and tight, he kept a close eye open on his surroundings, hoping to the Gods of all things furry than nobody could see what was going on between the shep-coon and his horny ten-year-old farm-hand.
~
"So, you'll be the one working with me today, huh?" Sydney Padfoot, a spry young hybrid cub-girl, asked Maxwell Blackburnadeaux, a tall and slender shepherd-raccoon anthro-canine with an eye patch and a ringed tail. Sydney wasn't used to seeing other hybrids, nevertheless working alongside them on her foster mother's farm. Her fox-slit pupils widened then retracted at the sight of his glistening hair, dreadlocked and tied back in a ponytailed bundle. This guy obviously had a story behind his involvement with the Peahen Ranch. Sydney figured he'd spill the beans all in due time… for now, it'd be best to just keep him occupied and working hard, so as not to bother or annoy him. The petite vixen-coon girl also wondered how big his dick got when hard, knowing that most canine guys his age usually wound up developing quite a large, bulbous knot at the peak of their firmness. Max looked fit and trim enough to handle the excesses of hard farming labor, regardless of his probable weenie size. She contented herself, ensuring that this week wouldn't be a total drag in the long run. A slight hint of moisture dampened her cub-hood.
"Yes, it would appear so." Maxwell replied, adjusting his tank-top, brushing off the dust that had gathered upon its cottony surface. Sydney surveyed the older anthro guy silently and with fascinated interest, eyes gazing upon his noodle-like dirty-blonde hair. Maxwell looked around at the endless fields and spanning mountain ranges all around the property with wide eyes, absorbing the sheer beauty of it all. His shepherd-sized hand-paws flexed and curled repeatedly, suggesting a bit of nervousness on his end. Sydney wondered if this old dog ever worked on a farm before, then immediately suspended the idea. Of course not. His life revolves around anything but farm-hand work. Lil' Sootface would see to his training, ensuring he knew his way around the ranch right proper. No matter what it took; even if he needed to let loose some pent-up energy, which always seemed to frustrate older guys, she'd be the one to help him out.
"Right! Follow me then, big guy, we'll see if we can't get you set in stone." Sydney said, silently wondering if anything else on this big ol' shep-coon was currently set in stone. She grinned with a devilish feistiness that no ten-year-old vixen-coon girl should possibly understand or comprehend. "Oh, another thing!" Sydney said, stopping dead in her tracks, letting Max bump into her hind-end and enjoying the slight hint of bulge she felt in his tattered denim jeans. "I hope you aren't allergic to hay. We'll be around lots of it today. Haha! I'm a poet and I didn't even know it!" She guffawed hysterically, sounding stupidly adorable - to herself, at least.
Max gulped aloud, throat clicking, larynx bobbing visibly against his fur-tufted neck. "Not at all, you little poet." He replied. Sydney flashed a thumb-paws-up at her new working buddy and ran towards a large red barn, clicking open a latch to swing its tall front doors wide open. Max was exposed to a dusty interior with a steep cathedral-arched ceiling. The inside of the barn had oval-curved water basins against all four corners, horse stables lined up five in a row in the center of the rear wall, a pig pen on the right side of the barn and a sheep and goat pen adjacently positioned, all of which took up a majority of the barn-space from within. In a well-sized loft suspended above the second story of the building, Max saw a large pyramid of hay bales stacked roughly six to eight blocks high, occupying roughly ninety percent of the upper tier.
"Damn, that's a shitload of hay!" Max exclaimed, honestly amazed. Sydney chuckled and shrugged her shoulders, like it wasn't too big a deal. "Oh, pardon my language, young miss."
"No problem! I've heard way worse before." Sydney replied. Max scoffed and reached his arms up over his head, stretching wide, groaning. Lil' Sootface heard a few joints snap and pop as the one-eyed shep-coon leaned back, amazed to see him still standing upright.
Man, you see one barn filled with hay, you've seen 'em all. Sydney thought to herself as she trotted to a large ladder that rose up to the edge of the loft's surface, roughly thirty rungs high. She climbed up fast, reaching the top with impressive speed to knock down a few large bundled bales with a sickle-hook, suspended off the edge of the second floor, hung like a Christmas tree ornament. Max was impressed with her ninja-like agility and climbing speed. He had a certain aversion to heights, so it always thrilled him to see younger anthros handle high-rise areas with ease. At least these younger anthro-kids weren't gigantic pussies about something as mundane as heights.
Sydney's choice of fashion didn't exactly vibe with the work at hand, but Max figured she most likely knew what she was doing. Hell, she'd lived on this ranch for most of her life anyways, this much he knew without even asking. Or did he really know this? Maybe she too was brought here for the week to work off a debt of some sort, much like he was doing, no thanks to his drunken stupidity. There was a time and a place for such questions to be asked and answered - this was neither. Especially when the first bale of hay came crashing down in front of his foot-paws. Max jumped back, snapped free from his involved thoughts. Sydney gasped, stifling a flurry of hysterical laughter.
"Whoops! Sorry 'bout that, buddy! I almost gave you a hay-shower, huh?" Max just glared up at her silently. "Yeah, that would've been messy. Heh."
The young vixen-raccoon anthro-girl wore a very revealing pair of denim jean-shorts, causing Max to see a hint of yellow striped panties as she climbed up the ladder. Or maybe that was just her natural fur-tones? Perhaps he didn't see her underwear as much as he actually saw the surface of her taint in such a brief glimpse that lasted roughly half a second. Max stifled a blush and suddenly sported a stealth erection. Was this from her nudging herself up against his groin earlier? Or maybe her youthful figure? Had he really been that damn hosed up that he felt a strangely sexual attraction to this... kid? This young girl?
Moron! It's not like you haven't engaged in intercourse with cubs before. Remember Milly...
He insisted that the stiffy just pass on and leave him be, since there was work to be done. Pleasure could be had later, after-hours - when all of today's business was situated. Then he'd have six more days to go. Six more days to lend a hand at the fame-acclaimed peacock fashionista Penelope Peahen's renowned working ranch. Some disputed the place to be a child orphanage, others considered it a living breathing wreck. Max saw plenty of charm and elegance in the place though, nestled on a scenic patch of numerous acres on the outskirts of Denver, Colorado. The air was crisp and clean, the scenery was thriving with beauty and pure nature - what more could any shep-coon possibly ask for?
He'd brought a few girlie mags for the very occasion of self-pleasure, figuring he'd be able to get away with a quick fapping before sleep overpowered his senses. He thought of the magazines and the scantly-clad beauties from within who adorned those many pages and fold-outs as he watched Sydney, wondering if she were aware of what pornography was exactly, if she'd ever accidentally caught some nudie mags lying around or grew curious enough to search "Sex" or "Vagina" or what-the-hell-ever on the internet. Realization dawned on Maxwell: what if there is no internet service here? Also was the peacock-woman in charge of things really the "Furry Fever" or "Masculine Murriness" type? Like hell. Fat chance. No way, amigo. Forget it.
Sydney, oblivious to Max's overworking imaginative and dutifully perverted mind, continued to yank and throw down hay bales. She wore a white spaghetti-strap shirt underneath a loose-fitting tank-top with spiral designs adorning its surface; something her foster mother definitely put her up to wearing, no doubt. That, or Sydney had the most eccentric fashion sense Max had ever seen in a cub-girl her age… probably about fourteen or so, give or take. Then again, Max had never been precisely accurate at guessing ages, so that could've been a rough estimate.
When she dropped the second bale of hay, her shirt stretched out just enough for Max to catch an impromptu glimpse of her chest and underdeveloped breasts. He was reminded of mosquito-bites on a human child's arm. This connection caused Max to laugh aloud. Sydney looked down at the shep-coon with confused eyes, wondering what on earth struck him so dang funny. If he were laughing at the hook impaling hay bales, he had a rather morbid sense of humor, indeed.
"You alright down there, chief?" Sydney asked, shucking down a third and fourth bale, just about enough for the livestock. Max cleared his throat and nodded up to her, winking. She cocked her head funny, eying down Maxwell with a confused glance.
"Oh, uh… yeah! I'm fine. Just thought of something funny, that's all. You know what that's like?" Max asked, refusing to admit to this young cub-girl exactly what he was laughing about. Itty bitty titties, good for foxes, not for kitties. This caused Max to laugh even harder still, hunkering over to rest his hand-paws on his knees, catching a breath in hopes that he wouldn't fall over with his sides sore and tears streaming from his intact eyelid. She shrugged as her own eyes drifted up, casting her gaze at the ceiling, deep in thought. Sydney decided to throw Max a right proper curve-ball, simply guessing aloud.
"I bet it has something to do with my little boobies, doesn't it?" Sydney asked with calm assurance. Maxwell started excessively. His ears perked straight up and his tail ruffled its fur outright. How in the hell could she have guessed so well? "Nah, just kidding. Heeheehee! Mama Peahen told me about how some boys like to stare at girls because they have overactive weenies. I think that’s silly though… don't you, Mr. B?" Sydney snorted with timid laughter while Max did his very best to hide his shep-coon erection from her prying eyes, those fox-slit, yellow, curiously affectionate and borderline-depraved eyes. He wondered if she was messing with his sorry ass or actively flirting with the older farm-hand on purpose. Either way, he hoped she'd watch herself, or else she may woo his affections radically.
"Silly, yeah. And hey!" Max hollered. Sydney looked down at him, regarding his attentive single eye, admiring his slender handsomeness, despite his facial flaw. "Call me Maxwell. Not Mr. B. I feel old as dirt when kids call me that nonsense." Max smiled up to the vixen-coon, having made a pact of sorts. Sydney winked and clicked her tongue, giving him the A-OK hand gesture.
~
After the sun sunk below the far-distant horizon, scorching the summer sky with thriving bursts of red, purple and vermillion, bed-time crept upon the ranch. Max and Sydney both enjoyed a plate of Carne Asada tacos prepared by Penelope herself, who wore about five separate napkins on her evening dress. Sydney later explained to Max that Ms. Peahen was very anal about getting her clothing dirty. Max chuckled laughter through his toothbrush, wondering where in the devil she'd learned that particularly derogatory yet strangely fitting term. He nodded and spat foamy toothpaste out into a sink basin as Sydney flossed her chompers, staring at Maxwell the entire time.
When they were both tidied up, Penelope offered spare blankets to Maxwell, refusing to make eye contact with the shep-coon. He wondered if the idea of his one good eye intimidated her, or maybe it was his hair. In any case, he thanked her kindly and proceeded to lay out a small makeshift padded sleeping space upon the floor of the guest room. Sydney watched him from the doorway, leaned up against a wooden frame, arm raised over her head, brows curled, one corner of her mouth perked upward, wondering what on earth he thought he was doing.
"Y'know, you could just use the bed." She said to Max. The shep-coon started and reeled back, not expecting her to be there. "Oh what, did I scare you again? Jeez, man, relax."
"Sorry. You're just so… silent! You'd make a very good ninja in another lifetime, I think." Max said, clearing his throat, ironing out the excess folds in the blanket with his paw-padded palms, attempting to catch his breath. "And thanks for the offer, but I'd rather not worry about messing the bedsheets up. It's made so well, I'd feel bad if I were to change that. Besides, I've always heard that second stories in these kind of houses tend to get… stuffy. So I figured why not camp out on the ground? Not too dirty and actually quite comfy." Sydney just looked at Max as if he were the biggest dork in all of existence. "What, you don't think I know what I'm talking about?"
"Nah, man, you're cool. Just… sleep tight! On the ground! You total weirdo." Sydney remarked as she strolled away, feet-paws scuffling along the hardwood floor of the hallway. Max sighed and stood up from his knelt-down position. If only she knew just how weird he could be. Oh man, if only!
He walked over to a far corner of the guest room to unzip and open a duffel bag he brought along with him during his week-long tenure. Inside were a few fresh changes of clothing, assorted toiletries, a small Native tobacco pipe given to him by his cousin Darrel, the promised girlie-mags and a framed photograph of his fellow band-mates and himself, all surrounding Gus, their manager. He missed his dearest friends, his alternate family. Ah well, surely Bradley and Maile were hanging in just fine without their shep-coon bassist and all-around smart-aleck stinking up the place.
Jeez, I miss them though. Kinda miss my bass guitar too. If only I could've brought it with me. Ah well. Peace and slumber never hurt anyone, I suppose.
Max propped the photo upright on top of the room's single dresser and hid the magazines under the twin-sized bed's mattress, despite his disinterest in sleeping upon it. At least nobody else would think of checking there. Max heavily doubted that Penelope Peahen ever had children of her own, let alone boys, and Sydney wouldn't even dream of snooping around underneath the mattress… would she? Doubtful.
Max stacked his clothing upon a wicker-chair set near the bedroom's lattice-paned window and grabbed for the bottles of shampoo, conditioner and body & fur scrub. He walked out from his guest room and entered the bathroom, not even thinking twice about knocking, since he was mentally conditioned to a lack of privacy in living with his band-mates and manager. As he pushed the door open, Sydney spun around, dropping a towel free from her grip. Maxwell caught an eye-full as she looked up at the shep-coon, eyes wide with shock, mouth open with her jaw agape and her tail jutted outward. Max's breath hitched in his lungs and his heart sped into triple-time as he felt equally embarrassed as fuck and shamed at having caught the young vixen-coon girl at her most vulnerably exposed.
"WOAH! Oh gosh, I'm sorry…" Max blurted out as he ran away from the bathroom, not even giving her a chance to reply. He stormed into the bedroom and sat down hard upon the wicker-strewn chair, squashing his pile of clothing beneath his butt. He held tightly onto his few shower-laden bottles, trying to process what had just happened exactly. Not a moment's time passed when he heard a knock at the door. He glanced up and saw a strange reflection hovering half-way up from behind the door. The kind of reflection one sees when shining high-beams into a cat's eyes. He saw the slit pupil and a small hint of yellow. Max put the bottles down around his ankles. "You can come in, I'm decent." At least, all things considered.
Sydney entered into Max's room, still naked as the day in which she was born. Now it was Maxwell's turn to look wide-eyed with a gaping jaw. She closed the door behind her, locking the doorknob tightly. Her tail swayed and jerked back and forth from behind her back gracefully. Max surveyed her skinny, petite young body. Her legs, arms and neck were so lanky, yet she possessed an early on-set hint of curvaceousness that would form quite well into her older years.
~
Sydney twirled around on her heels and walked slowly towards Maxwell, still hunkered down in the straw-basket chair, still staring madly. The only sound that could be heard was a steady drone of crickets and frogs from outside and the pitter-pattering of Sydney's foot-paws as she walked with true elegance and grace, inching closer to the shep-coon with each new step taken. When she reached his showering needs, she crouched down and picked them up to read the labels.
"Oh! I didn't take you as a Paul Mitchell sort of guy. Nice. Isn't this stuff costly?" Sydney asked Max, swaying her hips with a feeble, innocent expression.
"Yeah. He is-eh, that is. Quite costly." Maxwell's mouth felt numb, barely comprehensible. "Look, I'm sorry about that. Didn't mean to walk in on you so suddenly, I'm just used to-"
Sydney reached up and placed a single finger-paw on Max's snout, pressing it firmly against his lips, shushing him up in mid-speech.
"Sssssh… you're fine. No worries. I was actually, uh…" Sydney fidgeted her heels together nervously, nibbling at her lower lip. "To be honest, I was kinda hoping you'd walk in on me like that. You did nothing wrong. Don't worry. I won't tell if you won't. This can be our little secret." Sydney remarked, staring into Maxwell's face, that rugged, handsome shepherd's face, with a bandit-masked fur-tone and vibrant colors of green and yellow and- "Oh! Your eye-patch isn't even on. Jeez! I didn’t even notice. Is your eye still…?"
"Oh, this? Check it out." Max said. He opened his left eyelid wide and rolled the ocular prosthesis in a clock-wise motion. The iris changed color. Sydney gasped with astonishment. Max did it again and the color changed once more. "I just roll my eye and it shifts through different eye hues. Cool, huh? It’s a fake eye and it cost more than you could imagine."
"So… do you sleep with it in your, uh… socket, like that?" Sydney asked Max, earnestly curious.
"Yup. It never has bothered me either. Wanna see it taken out?"
"No." Sydney said, reeling her head back. Her face scrunched into a litany of disgust. Maxwell smiled at her reaction. "Thanks, but that's fine. I'll take your word for it."
"Okay then. So, uh… you'd better go get some PJs on or something." Max said to her.
"You sure you don't want to, I dunno… share that bed tonight?" Sydney insisted, pointing to the twin-bed, totally unaware of dirty smut-magazines beneath its single mattress.
"Now why would I have you sleep in the same bed as me?" Max asked her. "I mean, you have your own bedroom, right? Surely you must be comfortable enough in there. Besides, you hardly know me anyways. Would Penelope be okay with this?"
"Well, yeah. She could care less, I’m sure. And yeah, I have my own bedroom and I sleep in there. I'm comfortable there too, sometimes. But…" Sydney began to pout a bit, slumping her shoulders and turning her head down, muzzle pointing at the floor, chin resting against her neck. "Sometimes it gets really lonely at night. Cold, too. You say heat rises? Maybe, but not very often. Not here, at least. My foster mom is really strict with how hot or cold the house is, so she usually keeps it super-chilled at night. I bundle up in so many blankets yet still I can never really stay warm." Maxwell nodded, understanding her plight. Gus was very similar to Penelope, in a way. Must've been associated with aging.
"Okay, so you want to sleep in here tonight? I guess that's fine with me. Just make sure you-"
"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! I was worried you'd say no!" Sydney exclaimed. She leapt into Max's lap and hugged him tight, brushing her muzzle against his neck, resting her thighs and legs upon one of his knees, cradling his hip with her long, scraggly vixen's tail.
"Uh, Sydney? You're crushing me."
"I'm not even on your belly though."
"No, I mean…" Max pointed to his crotch.
"Oh! Whoopsies! Sorry 'bout that." Sydney stepped off Max's lap immediately. She glimpsed down and saw that he had a massive erection. She presented a naughty expression to Maxwell, speaking in a sultry tone of voice, reminding herself of the ladies her foster mother worked with in fashion consulting. "You know, I could keep you company tonight. You don't have to sleep alone, I don't have to freeze. We can keep each other warm and toasty. A total win-win situation. I don't mind one bit, as long as you don't either." Sydney said.
Maxwell cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah? How do you figure?"
"First things first, we need to forget about sleeping on the floor."
"Yeah, but I told you earlier abo-"
"Uh, uh, uh!" Sydney wiggled her finger-paw in front of Max's face, legs spread, hips cocked angularly with a hand-paw pressed to her side. Maxwell was amused at her pseudo-teacher pose. "None of that, mister. C'mon! It'll be fun!" Sydney said with an air of excitement present beneath her breath. "Like a slumber party or something! We can pretend-play marriage! I'll be the humble house-wife and you'll be the hard-working farmer and husband!" She ran and jumped upon the top of the bed, plopping her head down into a single pillow, rolling on the surface of the quilted spread-sheet cover.
"Okay, fine. But just for tonight, okay?" Max insisted, stacking his shampoo essentials up against the chair's seated surface, behind the squished-down pile of clothing. Sydney nodded, smiling gracefully at the shep-coon.
My God, how do I get myself into these weird-ass situations? Now I have a naked vixen-girl rolling on my bed, the bed I didn't even want to use before she came along and insisted otherwise. Should I just give her the boot anyways? That'd be rude, since I pretty much gave her my promise. She wouldn't want to sleep on the floor either, it doesn't exactly suit her style. Dang it, just one night. One night! I can handle this. Not the end of the world. She wants to cuddle up and stay warm? I'll be a shep-coon teddy-bear for an evening. No problem.
~
The problem didn't really start until a few hours later, when the lights were all turned off. Maxwell was awoken mid-sleep by a strange warmth sensation against his neck. He leaned his head back and saw that Sydney was propped right beside him.
"Uh, Sydney?"
"Yeah?"
"Were you… licking me?"
"Yes."
"How come?"
"Reasons."
"What kind of reasons?"
"I dunno. Reasons, no big deal."
"How old are you?"
"It's rude for a guy to ask that question to a girl."
"Okay. I'm twenty-nine. There, now we're even."
"Fine…. I'm ten."
"Ten years old? Really?"
"Yeah, why?"
"I thought you were older."
"People always say I'm mature for my age."
"Mature enough to sleep with strange anthro-guys in the nude?"
"At least you're warm, Mr. B."
"What'd I tell you about calling me that?"
"Sorry, Maxwell. Or do you prefer Max?"
"I prefer whatever you feel comfortable calling me."
"Would you be weirded out if I called you Daddy?"
Maxwell glanced down into Sydney's face. In the pale solemnity of moonlight, he could just make out her features. He felt compelled to ask her about her parents but didn't want to offend her, so he decided against it.
"Do you still have your mom and dad, Max?" Sydney asked Maxwell.
Max shook his head.
"What happened to them?"
"Well, they were… bad people."
"So they left you too? Just like me. We're not too different, you and I."
Maxwell's heart broke for her with that having been said.
"Did you know your parents, Sydney?" Max asked her.
"Not really. I heard stories from Penelope, but that's about it."
"I see." Max caressed her shoulder graciously. "Sorry about that, girl."
"No worries. I mean, I didn't become some weirdo as a result. Or did I?" She asked herself. Max giggle-snorted aloud.
"No, you aren't weird at all. In fact, you're a far cry from weird."
"Maxwell?"
"Yeah?"
"You snorted just now when you laughed." Sydney smiled wide, teeth glistening in the moonlight. "That was funny as heck."
"What can I say? I have my moments." Max insisted. He reached out and pulled Sydney's slender young body close to his own, hugging her tight. She breathed with rapid succession, bathing Max's neck in heat. Soon he felt his groin tickling and tingling. Oh hell, not again.
"Maxwell?"
"What's up?"
"Can I ask you a favor?"
"Sure thing, kiddo."
"Can you… uh… well, I'm not allowed to say vulgar words, but…"
"You're not with your foster mom. You can tell me whatever is on your mind, I won't hold it against you or think differently of you at all. What did you want to ask me?" Max braced for a bomb-shell, not exactly expecting the worst.
"Okay. Can you… do me?"
Maxwell's pulse throbbed against his forehead and his knees quivered. "What?"
"The adults always say 'fuck me' but that's dirty, so I asked you if you'd, y'know… do me. So? Can you do me on this bed tonight, Max? I won't say a word if you promise not to either."
"Sydney, you're ten years old. Definitely not old enough to be engaging in this sort of thing."
Yeah, neither was Milly, but you fucked her vagina and came deep in her anyways, didn't you, shep-coon? You fucking hypocritical jack-ass rat bastard, just answer her plea and fuck the girl already. She's obviously a bit lonely, deprived of pleasure living with that ditzy-ass peacock-woman, lacking in friends. Who's to say she hasn't had a few other older gentlefur's dicks shoved into her tight young vixen-coon pussy before? You won't know until you get your feet-paws wet, pal. Get over your high-horse, embrace your carnal urges and succumb to your desires. Answer her beckoning call and FUCK HER SILLY BRAINS OUT UNTIL SHE MOANS YOUR NAME ALOUD IN LATIN, YOU GODDAM SON OF A JUNKIE BITCH!
Sydney wrapped her legs around Max's waist and began to grind against him. She wrapped her arms around his chest and proceeded to lick at his neck. Long, passionate lapping licks that started from his collarbone and reached up to the cusp of his earlobe. She was horny as fuck, even at such a young age.
"I don't think this is a good idea, girl. Maybe you should go to your room and get some sle-"
Sydney then shoved herself down upon Max's lap, clenching his muzzle shut with both her hand-paws. She stared into his one good eye with a pair of fire-drenched eyes that could ignite dampened oakwood.
"I think you should know something about me. All my life, I've been cast aside. Orphaned at a young age, neglected by my own parents. I was taught to fend for myself earlier than most cub-girls my age could ever dream of. I never asked to be adopted by anyone. Penelope Peahen, my less-than-ideal foster parent, saw something in me - some kind of potential, I'm not sure. She adopted me though, brought me here to live with her, to help out with the farm, to endure home-schooling and maintain a few friendships I made while in the orphanage. Most of the girls live really far away now but a few still linger in this area, so I'm not completely alone but. But." Sydney tightened her grip on Maxwell's muzzle, gritting her teeth, brow curled down in a furiously enraged snarl. "I don’t ever see anyone like you. Ever. I had a friend who was so into you, into your music, your band, your style. I never did understand what she saw in you. I didn't care to understand. But now, as I see you in person, right here before my very eyes, I think I can relate to what she felt like. She was smitten with you. Enamored by you. That's what she always said, at least. I never knew what those words even meant. I think they must have something to do with loving you like crazy though. Even with your weird eye and your messed-up fur, she still wouldn't ever shut up about how incredibly hot you were, how sexy your voice sounded, how gorgeous your poses were while playing that bass guitar of yours. I took all of that for granted and could honestly care less before. But for now? Right now? You're here for a week. Just one stretch of five, maybe seven days. In this time, I want you to fuck me hard at least once. I want to know what it feels like to get fucked by a rock-star."
Why in poo-perfect hell does everyone always presume I'm a rock-star?!
Hell, because I am. I guess. She thinks so, at least. I simply can't let her down.
"Okh, Sdh. I fh yu." Max murmured.
"What?" Sydney loosened her grip around Max's muzzle.
"I said I'll fuck you. If that's what you want, anyways."
Sydney produced a single tear from the corner of her eyelid that ran down her cheek and splashed upon Max's chest. "Thank you, Max." She said to him.
~
The next morning, Maxwell awoke to an empty bed. Sometime during the night, Sydney had decided to return back to her bedroom. He thought the entire evening's occurrence was just a very vivid dream, perhaps a wet dream granted unto his sleep-straddled subconscious by the demonic entities of forlorn lust and longing. He lifted the bed-sheets and noticed he was nude. A large splotch of dried semen rested caked upon his belly.
Fucking shit, that wasn't a dream after all.
~
Farm-working was pretty radical shit if one wasn't used to it entirely. Luckily for Maxwell, his tolerance was quite strong and he managed to get the hang of the entire process immediately.
At one point, Sydney smacked Max's butt and ran off into a vast field of tall grass. "Tag! You're it!" She hollered at the top of her lungs. Maxwell shook his head, dropped the pitchfork he'd been using to lift hay into a wheelbarrow and ran after her, growling aloud like a demented were-shep-coon. She laughed with righteous intensity as he bee-lined and swirled, keeping up behind her tail. Eventually she winded down and he caught up with her, tapping the top of her head.
"Tag." Max said with a smirk.
"Okay, okay… so you can run. But I wonder…" Sydney licked at her lips and knelt down in front of the shep-coon. "Can you last?"
"Last? What'chu mean, girl?" Maxwell asked the vixen-coon girl, as if he didn't know what she'd meant already.
"Let's play a new game. I'm going to lick and suck your penis and you have to make it last for as long as possible. If you squirt that weird white yogurt-like stuff into my mouth that tastes salty and smells like seawater, the game is over. Got it?
"Are you sure that's a very good idea, out in the open like this?" Max asked Sydney. They'd arrived at a long metallic hitching post for the horses, cows and whatever else needed to be secured in place.
"Of course! Gosh, you are such a big baby. Now… let me just… strip… you down."
Sydney slid Max's T-shirt off his back, up his chest and off his head. She flung it into the grass, then removed her blouse and threw it on top of his shirt. She worked at Max's zipper, unbuttoning his jeans and licking at his abs, poking her nose into his navel. Max grabbed onto the post and held his grip tight while breathing deep and fast. He lifted his legs as Sydney removed his pants and chucked them over her shoulder, right into the ever-growing pile of their clothing. She slipped free from a new pair of short denim shorts (or maybe they were the same pair she wore yesterday?) and spread her legs wide, kneeling in front of Max's body. Sydney grabbed at his erect dog-cock with both hand-paws and began to stroke his knot and shaft, licking and kissing at his tip. He must've liked that, for Max began to murr excitably, moaning aloud.
"Mmmm…" Sydney hummed, slurping her lips and tongue against the surface of Max's shaft, bobbing her head into his crotch. Her ears swayed and flopped against his belly as she sucked him off with ease, indulging in the taste of his throbbing dog-cock. Max wallowed in the amazing sensations of her tongue, her throat, her lips. He was on the verge of busting a nut and ejaculating into her vixen-coon mouth when she leaned back and caught a whiff of fresh air, having given Maxwell some luscious deep-throating action.
"How the fuck do you know about this kind of stuff?" Maxwell asked her as she leaned back beneath the hitching post and rested her back upon their make-shift pile of clothing, reaching down to finger at her vagina, pinching her clitoris, rubbing one of her nipples, surveying Max from head to toe-paw, drowning in the incredulous potency of his raw abundant rock-star sexual prowess.
"I learned a few things in the orphanage. Those magazines of yours helped too. Mama Peahen chooses the lamest hiding places sometimes, Y'know? She couldn't fool me. I really enjoyed seeing all those poses, they inspired me quite a bit."
I knew it. Fucking little vandal, she did go through my belongings. Both of them! I should bust their asses… yeah, and maybe fuck this fox-coon girl, too. She'd like that, wouldn't she? Hell, I'd like that. She appears to be begging for it, or something quite like it. Maybe I should heed her call? What harm could that possibly do, other than tarnish my reputation?
Sydney waved her hand-paws towards the ground where she lay, spread-legged and aroused beyond the stars, feeling her tight little tailhole winking freely at Maxwell.
"Smoking is bad for you, Max. Don't you know that? I also learned the names of our nation's presidents, the Pythagorean theorem and how sex works. So… come on down here and put my lessons to the test, Daddy."
Maxwell was impressed. Learning Pi at such a young age? Holy shit, he wasn't just being wooed by any young fox-coon girl. Quite suddenly, Maxwell felt an inconceivable urge to faint hard on the spot. Maybe that was all the blood rushing from his head, straight into his penis? Had to have been. He stroked at himself, cock slippery with traces of Sydney's saliva coating its surface, and knelt down above her slender young body. He felt the cigarette tucked into his earlobe slip free and fall to the ground. That was dealt with, at least. Max wondered why he never carried any condoms with him wherever he went.
"I hope you studied really hard, little farm-hand. When I'm through with you, I might just give you extra credit for your efforts. A for Anal, B for Blowjob, C for Cumming, D for Dick, E for Erection and a big fat F for... well, you know."
Sydney's eyes widened and became electric with anxious excitement. Her tail wagged quickly and her teeth were fully exposed in a sinister, hungry, passionate grin of sexual deviancy. She spread her vaginal folds and winked up to the rock-star shep-coon, begging him to make her a very happy hybrid, if not for another few days.
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