Another moaning cry echoed from the endless recesses of the cave, filling his heart with dread. Flickertail’s lower lip quivered to hear the agonizing howls which emanated from the darkness. 

“That was Brightpaw,” he gasped. “I know it was.”

The pained cries faded into the gloom, leaving behind the only other sound, the steady drip of mineral heavy water from the ceiling. 

“H-Hold on, Brightpaw,” he shouted, summoning his flagging courage. 

The fox struck off in a run, dashing forward, heedless of what lay ahead. Suddenly, the floor dropped from underneath him, the fox tumbling down a steep incline. The lantern was flung from his hand to clatter down the slope. Flickertail’s world turned upside down, his vision reeling. He came down in a crumpled heap, his lantern flickering just an arm’s length away from where he lay. The fox gave a pained groaned and rolled to his stomach. He staggered to his feet, only to stumble, collapsing to the floor with a sharp hiss. His ankle had become twisted in the fall, now pain lanced through his leg. Flickertail whimpered, fighting back the tears welling up in his eyes, his thoughts only for Brightpaw. 

“I have to,” he grunted. “I have to get up.” 

Wincing through the pain, he managed to stumble to his feet. He dragged himself to where his lantern lay, thankful that it had survived the fall. The iron handle creaked as he scooped it from the floor. Raising the light above his head, he braced himself against the slick wall with an outstretched paw and soldiered on. Flickertail’s lantern quaked in his shaking paw, the thin corona of wobbling light like a broken yolk spilling upon the damp clay of the cave floor. His ankle was swelling, each step becoming more and more painful, but the fox only winced and pressed deeper. 

“Brightpaw,” he sobbed into the stygian void. “Brightpaw, where are you?”

His answer would be his own voice, echoing back to him. The fox trudged down a lonely tunnel, stalactites of limestone dripped down from above, the constant sound like that of his beating heart. Flickertail wiped the moisture from his eyes, his heart in his ankles. 

“Brightpaw,” that cry would resound once more, but softer, less heartening than before. “Brightpaw, are you there? Please be there.”

Flickertail stumbled into a small clearing, his lantern reflecting from the granite walls, casting the chamber in a pale, orange light. His foot nudged something hard, sending it clattering across the clay. The fox turned his attention to the ground, seeing what appeared to be a stick. The end was blackened and burned, a torch? Hope swelling in his breast, Flickertail began to scan the floor of the cave. 

“Tracks?” he muttered. “Paw prints, yes.” 

He waved the lantern before him, catching a glimpse of dirty green fabric lying crumpled on the ground. Eagerly, he raced for the pile of discarded cloth, scooping up the remains of Brightpaw’s tunic. 

“This is his, it has to be.” He paused to lift the shredded fabric to his nose, inhaling the lingering scents of the fox he loved. “Brightpaw,” he sighed. “I knew you were here.”

He dropped the ruined tunic to the ground and raised his lantern. The chamber exited into three tunnels, each could contain Brightpaw or not, he could not be certain. The flame of his lantern hissed, sputtering, reminding the fox that time was of the essence. 

“Brightpaw,” he cried out, hope carrying his message into the deep unknown. “Brightpaw, can you hear me?”

A voice, a thin murmur in the darkness, it was not his own. The fox’s heart leapt into his throat. 

“Brightpaw, it is you,” he yelped. “Hold on, I’m coming.”

He darted into the tunnel from which the tiniest thread of hope did lead him. Ignoring the pain in his ankle, the fox sped with all haste. The muscles of his strong legs pumping, carrying him like the wind deeper into the cave. The light of his lantern bounced along the stone walls, scattering inky shadows in all directions. His heart hammered, his fingers numb, but the fox would not stop. His breath came out in ragged puffs, sweat stinging his eyes as he bounded into a large, low ceilinged dome. The walls were smooth, worn stone, the floor was of cool, damp clay. Pillars of limestone ran from floor to ceiling, having fused over time by the steady dripping of the mineral infused waters of the cave. A natural palace, thought the fox as he let his lantern fall across the otherworldly scene. 

“Brightpaw,” his voice quavered. “Is that you?”

He slowly stepped into the chamber, his light catching the faintest glimpse of orange and black. His yellow gaze grew wide, first in astonishment, then utter horror. Brightpaw, his friend, the fox with whom he so wished to reveal his true feelings to, lay inert on the cave floor. His fur was muddy, filthy, matted in places with damp and sludge. His eyes were closed and the little fox appeared to be asleep. Flickertail clapped a hand to his mouth, tears streaming down his cheeks. His gaze wandered from the placid face of Brightpaw, down his slender throat to see the engorged breasts with their black nipples erect, leaking their flow of white, warm milk. His belly rose with each labored breath, distended into a grotesquely swollen orb. Icy fear gripped the heart of the fox, for he could see the movement of Brightpaw’s unborn, shifting within his belly, bubbling up against his flesh. 

“Oh, Brightpaw,” wept the fox. He dropped the lantern with a heavy clatter and rushed for the prostrate vulpine. “Brightpaw,” he sobbed, falling to his knees beside the little fox. His thick, strong arms cradled Brightpaw, clasping him to his breast. 

Flickertail stroked the fox’s grimy cheek, his tears washing down the dirty fur to carve thin rivulets into the matted filth. Brightpaw’s lips were opened slightly, black, wet, glistening in the dim gloom of the chamber. His white fangs protruded, beckoning to Flickertail. The scent of his sweet breath filled the fox’s lungs, the heat blooming in Flickertail’s cheeks. 

“Brightpaw,” he whispered, cradling the fox in his arms. His fur was warm, softer than down. He placed a hand on the swollen belly, his cock beginning to stir. “I wanted to hold you like this for so long, but… but not like this.”

Sniffling, he came to meet those offered lips, kissing the fox gently, then pressing deeper. His tongue slid from between his lips, slithering into Brightpaw’s open maw. He explored the red gums, savoring the smoothness of those fangs. His hand fell, the rasp of fingers through fur tingling in his ears. The ripeness of Brightpaw’s hip thrilled him, the heaviness of those milky breasts made his heart race. The maternal bearing of the little fox was not unpleasant, he realized. 

“Mmm, Darkfang?” came a faint groan. Brightpaw’s eyes opened, blue as the summer sky, the pupils pinpricks in the lantern light. “Oh, you’re not Darkfang.”

“Darkfang?” spat Flickertail. “That’s just a fable. Brightpaw, what happened to you?”

The little fox looked around, a smile curling his face which sent a shiver down Flickertail’s spine. 

“Mmm, Flickertail? It was so dark and now so painfully bright.” He blinked, squinting up at Flickertail. “I can’t see very well.” His voice took on a faraway sing-song tone. “Oh, but this?” He motioned to his pregnant belly. “Something wonderful, so wonderful indeed.” A strange, tittering laugh escaped his lips. “And these” He cupped a breast. “Such a lovely gift. Do you want to taste?”

“No, I…” stammered Flickertail. “Brightpaw, we need to get you out of here. The village, they thought you were dead, but I knew.” He smiled, despite the worry worming its way into his heart. “I just knew.”

Brightpaw struggled to sit up, collapsing into Flickertail’s arms, his snout burying itself into the broad chest of the other fox. The warm scent of apples and freshly tilled soil filled his nose, along with the pungent odor of Flickertail’s natural musk. Lust boiled within him, his desires overwhelming him. Brightpaw lifted his face, his lips seeking the trembling mouth of Flickertail. The other fox froze, wanting to push Brightpaw away. There was something wrong, he could tell, but he could not resist the hungry desire within his love, nor himself. Their lips met with a kiss that stole the breath from Flickertail. It was as he had dreamed. The taste of Brightpaw’s lips, the tang of sweat and musk in his nose. His fingers curled around the back of Brightpaw’s head, tangling in his fur. His tongue slid around the other fox’s tongue, curling and twinging, endlessly swirling. His nostrils flared, puffing with ecstatic delight. His hand slipped down, placing itself on Brightpaw’s gravid belly. The curve of his ripe middle thrilled Flickertail, his cock rising below his tunic, eager to claim the prize which he had sought for so very long.

“Flickertail,” said Brightpaw, tearing himself from the fox’s mouth. He nuzzled Flickertail’s neck, delighting in the warmth of his fur. “I’ve known.”

“You have?” chirped Flickertail. His heart hammered in his temples. “F-For how long?”

“Remember the village festival?” Brightpaw asked. “The dance? I saw you. The way you looked at me.” His cheeks became crimson. “Truth is, I liked it. I wanted to say something then, but I could not bring myself to tell you.”

“Brightpaw, I…” 

Flickertail’s words were cut short by the other fox. Brightpaw’s heavy belly sagged in his lap, the little fox smiling. 

“Oh, your cock is getting so hard against my belly. Do you like it?” 

“U-Um,” Flickertail gulped. 

“Do you want to touch my big, milky breasts?” asked Brightpaw. “Like Darkfang? I bet you do.” 

He wrapped his arms around Flickertail’s neck, drawing himself up so that his breasts now wobbled before the other fox’s face. 

“Go on,” he said. “Drink.”

Licking his lips, Flickertail took up a heavy tit. His tongue lapped gently, savoring the strangely sweet nectar which flowed from the black nipple. His lips closed around Brightpaw’s breast and he began to drink. The warm trickle filled his mouth, stirring his desires. He lapped harder, flicking that erect bud, drinking greedily as Brightpaw hummed softly, stroking the back of his head. The warmth pooled in his belly, his body growing heavy with the gentle aroma of his lover. Flickertail pulled his lips from Brightpaw’s sagging breast, his mouth questing down the fox’s belly. The ripe curve thrilled him, compelling him to lick the dirty fur, to wind a slick, shiny trail down his belly to curl around his distended navel. Brightpaw moaned, lost in the contentment of his love. He tumbled back, only to be caught up in the strong arms of Flickertail. The little fox’s nimble fingers found the strings which laced Flickertail’s tunic and began to loosen them. 

Flickertail’s brown garment fell to the floor, the fox heedless that he was undressed. His bare chest pressed into Brightpaw’s belly, such was his desire, his need to take that which he so longed for. The cave melted before his eyes, his vision solely that of a sweetly gravid fox and his glittering sky blue eyes. Brightpaw slipped from his grasp, sliding down his chest. His muzzle fell to Flickertail’s collarbone, filling that oasis with his kisses until the heady wine of his love did overflow and spill forth down the fox’s broad chest. His nipples, black like Brightpaw’s, were as two hard nubs of purest jet. The little fox spread his wet lips across the white chest of Flickertail, his tongue flicking the fox’s nipple. Flickertail groaned, his cock throbbing, swelling from its sheath, a rod of crimson, glistening faintly. Veins criss crossed down the shivering pillar which terminated in a muscular knot. 

“Ungh, Brightpaw,” moaned Flickertail. 

The little fox’s hand descended, fingers raking the fur of Flickertail’s belly. The ripples of his abdomen delighted the pregnant vulpine, enticing him to lay claim to Flickertail’s shaft. The smooth flesh slipped in his paw, his strokes growing faster as he released the fox’s nipple to descend the slope of his snowy stomach. Brightpaw’s lips grazed the rippling muscles of the strong, firm lower belly. He came to the narrow tip of Flickertail’s cock, his breath hot and wet with the need to take him deep. His tail curled up behind him, his flower blooming with desire. His tongue slithered down the plump underside, curling around Flickertail’s rod. He kissed that weeping tip, the bitter tang of Flickertail’s precum on his lips, spurring him to wrap his mouth around that blessed pillar.

Down, he plunged, his lips  meeting that knot, his nose burying into the tangle of pubic fur. Up, he slid, his lips closing around that shivering cock, his tongue licking, stroking. Faster, he plunged, rising, never stopping. Flickertail’s eyes were squeezed shut, his belly heaving with each labored breath. 

“Oh, Brightpaw,” he wailed. “Brightpaw! Brightpaw, I love you.”

His hands shot for the little fox, clasping his cheeks, guiding him down, up, bringing him closer to that sweet ecstasy. Brightpaw’s belly lurched, aching to be fed the sticky nectar of his lover. His claws found the ripe balls, like furry apricots, churning, fattened with fresh seed. He plucked those ripe fruits, squeezing them gently so that his love did howl into the lonely tunnels. He rose, his tongue circling Flickertail’s tip. He opened his eyes, sky blue orbs staring into the yellow topaz of his love. Flickertail’s cheeks flushed scarlet to see the way his lover looked up at him, drinking in his very soul. He cupped Brightpaw’s cheeks, unable to take his eyes away from the little fox. 

“O-Oh, Brightpaw,” he groaned. “Oh, the way you look at me.”

Brightpaw’s hand came up to stroke Flickertail’s lower belly. The muscles of his stomach clenched, but the little fox continued to lazily play his fingers through the white fur. 

“Ungh, I can’t…” moaned Flickertail. 

His cock trembled, spurting hot precum into Brightpaw’s mouth. His balls churned, begging to release and he could no longer deny them. A torrent of hot, sticky seed gushed forth, filling the mouth of Brightpaw. The little fox gulped, drinking deep, allowing his lover’s semen to spill down his throat, to fill his belly with fertile delight. Flickertail shivered, releasing another ropy strand to swell the cheeks of Brightpaw. Loose seed spurted from the fox’s lips, trailing down his chin to drip onto the cave floor. The little fox pulled back, a strand of semen still clinging between them, hanging in the damp air, shimmering as a gossamer thread of spider’s silk in the lantern’s glow. Those glittering eyes looked back with a glassy expression, the little fox smiling, his lips crusted white. 

“So satisfying,” he purred. “Mmm, Flickertail,” he placed a hand on his swollen belly, “won’t you feed my baby?”

“B-Baby?” yelped the other fox. 

The spell was broken. He leapt to his feet, realizing what he had just done. 

“Brightpaw,” he cried. “We have to get out of here.”

“Get out?” The little fox looked puzzled. His ears drooped slightly as he asked, “But why, Flickertail? Don’t you want to stay and be a good boy?”

“No, I want to leave this awful place,” snapped Flickertail. “And we need to figure out what happened to you.”

Brightpaw laughed. “Oh, that’s easy. I’m just brimming with the new life given to me by Darkfang.” He came up on his hands and knees. “She can do the same for you too.”

A shiver ran up the spine of Flickertail, for he saw that Brightpaw was not looking at him, but instead behind him. The scent of ammonia and copper filled the air, a reptilian stench which froze the fox in his tracks. He turned, his face drained of color, dreading what lay in wait behind him. What he saw was horror unimaginable. Darkfang, the beast was called, a creature told of in the village only in stories. She stood an head and more taller than he, her body covered in bronze scales which shone in the lantern’s light. Her arms hung to her knees, tipped with sharp, black claws. Four immense breasts hung from her muscled chest, the nipples a matte black against her bronze flesh, erect and hard with a lustful desire. Her hair hung in black, stringy clumps from a head which was like that of a wolf, but reptilian. Her full lips parted, revealing yellowed fangs and a long, forked tongue. Between her thighs hung a rod of bony meat, the same ebony as her nipples, above a pair of pendulous, bloated testicals. A pearly, opalescent ooze dribbled from her tip, dripping to the floor of the cave as her shaft rose, growing tall and hard before his eyes. 

“Oh my,” Darkfang said. “How very unexpected.”

The creature’s gaze held him, those eyes like glowing coals. Devoid of pupils, they were too large for her head, goggling from her brow like that of a toad. Darkfang came closer, arms extended, drawing the fox to her. But, Flickertail slipped her grasp, staggering back. His tendons rose up like steel cables, strength swelling in his muscles. For his love, he would not allow this fiend to take them. He stood before Brightpaw, shielding the gravid fox from the fury of this new foe. 

“Stay back,” he shouted to Brightpaw. “I’ll not let this monster come any closer.”