[center][b]Sixty Eight Years[/b]
by [name]JustLurking[/name]
Chapter 4[/center]

[center][b]~ Rei ~[\b][\center]

I was sitting at my table, in the last class of the year, at school with Æð and Ea.

You remember Eachann, right?

He’s my second-bestist-friend after Æð and the three of us hang out all the time.

He’s changed a lot since I met him.  His baby fat just sort of melted away in the second grade and he grew, a lot.  Now he’s tall (for a ten year old at least), stick thin and all sharp angles.

He’s also been having a perpetual day fur day since he hit that growth spurt.  His fur has become really thick and wirey, especially his head fur.

It also seems to want to form little clumps.  It doesn’t look as gross as it sounds, he’s got a full coat of fur, it isn’t like he has bald patches or anything.  It just seems to want to stand out in little spiky tufts and no amount of brushing will make it lay flat.  If a stranger looked at him they’d just see a ten year old tod - the very image of a lovable, hyper active but well meaning, scamp made real - messy after a long day’s play.

But, in other ways, Ea hasn’t changed at all.

He’s still got that freaky focus thing that he does.  He just sort of stares at boring things, y’know, people, trees, walls, school work, like they’re the most interesting thing in the world, like he’s seeing things we can’t.  I think he’s got a photographic memory.  Either that or x-ray vision.

In short he’s still really freaky.

But he’s a friend, he’s our freak.  And Me, Æð and Ea, all look out for each other.  All for one and one for all and all that.

It’s been an interesting year.

The act, which set aside a certain number of seats for foxes in the parliament, expired at the beginning of the year.  There isn’t an election until next year, but my parents will have to convince wolves as well as foxes to vote for them.  They were getting ninety percent of the vote, but I’m worried that they’ll lose their seats this time and we’ll have no home and no money.

My sire says I shouldn’t worry about it and they aren’t going to lose and even if they did we’d be all right.  They’ve been really busy recently, getting ready for the election.  I miss them sometimes, even if they live in the same house as me and we see each other every day.

Also this is the first year I can go to summer camp!

The government, as well as providing free public schooling for everyone, also provides four free years of summer camps.

Unlike schools, which are all supposed to be the same and work on catchment area, the parents get to pick which camp their cubs go to and the camps are all different.  I think the owners of the camps get paid a certain amount per cub, or something.

Camp isn’t compulsory like school, but uptake is nearly one hundred percent, it’s a part of wolven culture.  It would look really strange not to go to camp without a very good reason and looking strange is almost unthinkable to a wolf.  They just conform and try not to rock the boat - I think it’s one of those pack ‘things’ they keep talking about.

Not that I don’t want to go to camp, I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.

And today’s the day.  Today - right now in class - they’re handing out brochures for the various camps.  I’m itching with excitement and I can hardly sit still in my chair.  I’m not the only one - everyone is looking forward to a summer free of parental control and full of activities.  The excited chatter of cubs fills the air.  Normally classes are conducted at a much lower volume, but today the teacher will be lucky if he can control the class at all.

Finally, the teacher drops my little bundle of flyers, bound up with an elastic band, in front of me.  I spread the brightly coloured papers out.  I’m not sure which to look at first - they all vie for my attention, they all look so appealing.

It’s while I’m sorting through the mess that the image hits me, and I do mean hits.  I picked up and looked at a brochure which had five or six smiling fox boys holding hands on the cover, they looked like they were in the middle of a complicated game, something between oranges and lemons and twister.

It’s almost physical, like someone struck me between the eyes with a blunt instrument.  For a moment, just a moment, a memory snaps to the surface of my mind.  The memory of three white shapes on a black background: a large hexagon, a slightly smaller pentagon and an even smaller triangle.

And in that moment I can see that the negative space between the cheerful kits on the flyer I’m holding matches the white shapes in my mind.

And then the moment is over and I can’t see how I ever saw those shapes in the image.  I puzzle over how the shapes fit into the image for a bit.  Then I wonder how finding the shapes in the image would matter at all.  I dismiss all thoughts about the shapes from my mind.

Still, the brochure I’m holding looks interesting.  I read more of it and I find myself liking the sound of this camp more and more.  By the time I’ve read all four glossy pages my heart is set - I’m going to this camp.

I turn round to tell Æð about the great camp I’ve found.  Æð turns to face me at almost the same moment.

“Hey, Rei!”  He bubbled, “I’ve found the greatest camp ever.”

He pushes a leaflet into my paws, it’s not the same one I picked.  I indulge him and flick through it even though I know it isn’t as good as the one I picked.

“Watcha’ ya’ think?”  He asks, “It’s the best.”

“It’s okay, ” I answer, “but I’ve found a better one.”

I push my ideal summer break into Æð’s hands, he leafs through it, obviously not as enthused with it as I am.

“Isn’t it the greatest?”  I ask a uncertainty creeping into my voice.

“It’s okay.”  Æð says, although it’s clear he doesn’t mean it.

I don’t understand how he can prefer that camp over the one I picked.  We launch into a bickering match over who’s chosen the better camp.  For some reason neither of us feels like compromising, normally one or the other of us would have given way by this point.  Of course compromise is silly when you know you are right.  About half way into the argument I realise the awful truth - I’m going to be going to summer camp without my best pal in the whole world.

Eventually we agree to disagree, but we both feel hurt and abandoned.  We’re best friends, I know that for a fact - we’ll make up eventually - but for the moment things are strained between us.  Æð turns to talk to the cub behind him, ignoring me.

Wounded by my best friend’s rejection of the obvious truth - that my choice was the right one - I turn to Eachann, who has been completely silent during our tiff.

“What about you?”  I ask, the betrayal, hurt and anger causing me to snap at him, “Have you chosen a camp yet?”

“Uh, not yet.”  There is wariness in his voice and I realise the I’m practically accusing him of abandoning me as well.

I try to calm down and not hurt my other friend.

“Isn’t there any that catches your eye?”  I ask, impressing myself with how quickly I managed to get my voice level again.

“Not really.”  Ea admitted.

“Well why not come with me?”  I said on the spur of the moment.

I foisted the glossy advert onto him and he gave it a quick once over.

“Why not?”  He shrugged.

Despite the lack of enthusiasm on his part I was glad that I had managed to convince at least one other person to make the right choice.

It was about a week later that Eachann and me and about 800 other cubs found ourselves at the gates of Happy Vales Camp Ground.

Æð and I had made up with each other and we promised that when we came back from camp we’d still be best friends.

But for now it was just Eachann and myself in a sea of strangers - there were one or two faces I recognised from my school, but mostly complete strangers.

There was no special uniform or gear.  We were given a list of things we were expect to bring, clothes, toothbrush and toothpaste, soap and no more than one soft toy per camper.  I was wearing blue shorts, white trainers and a brown, red and white striped shirt.  It wasn’t the height of fashion, rather it was whatever was in my wardrobe that my parents thought I would soon be out growing and was therefore fine to take the abuse camp would doubtless subject them to.

The counsellors set about organising us as soon as we stepped off the bus.  First we were split into four groups depending on which year we were in.  Then we were split four ways again, so that there were sixteen groups of about fifty cubs each.  Each group had three counsellors assigned to it.  One leader, ours was a tall fox in his twenties called Lance, and two assistants.

As soon as the groups were formed we set off.  Happy Vales, as the counsellors explained, was made up of four small valleys in a rough circle, only one of which was actually a vale.  The fourth year’s camp grounds were in the vale, which is also where we were currently.

The fourth years could go to their bunks now, the counsellors explained gleefully, the rest of us would have to hike up hill and then down to get to our camp grounds.  There was a groan from the first, second and third years and jeering from the fourth at this news.

One thing caught my attention as we set off, I couldn’t see any wolves, not one.  The campers, the counsellors, even the bus drivers were all tods.

Segregation was illegal.  As was discrimination based on species, fox or wolf or whatever else.  That wasn’t to say that there weren’t significant problems with relations between the species.  But even if the camp was biased against wolves I’d still expect to see at least one or two in a group this size.

The thought was soon driven out of my mind as we hiked ever higher and further and I became more and more exhausted.  It was a hot day and while I was not unfit I was not used to walking this far.

We seemed to trudge on for forever, although it could have been half an hour really.  Eachann kept giving me dirty looks, he was obviously blaming me for getting him involved in this.

Finally we crested the ridge of our valley and I got a look at my home for the next few weeks.  Four squat long huts were arranged around a central building.  The valley itself formed a natural wall around the buildings and there didn’t look like there were many places, apart from the path they were on now, that were safe to ascend or descend.

I tried to come up with an adjective to describe the grounds and finally settled for ‘cosy’.

We didn’t linger long at the top of the hill.  Lance gave us a few minutes to catch our breath and then called, “All right campers!  We’ll be running down hill last one to the bottom is a rotten egg!”

There were assorted grumbles and complaints from his charges, but we all ran.  I have to admit it was easier downhill and that the cool wind in my fur was nice.  Lance led us and the assistants brought up the rear, helping the stragglers along.

Finally we were in the bowl of the valley, the second group of first years to arrive.  Lance took us into one of the bunk houses - number three as it happens - and got us settled in.

The bunk houses were basic, but serviceable.  There were ten rows of five bunks, enough to sleep fifty campers.  We had to share a bathroom, a shower room, four sinks and a washing machine between us.

“Right guys,” Lance said, “pick a bunk and get settled in.  There’s a medical exam you got to take on your first day, so I’ll be back in ten minutes to take the first of you across.  The exams are probably going to take the rest of the day so we’ll play a game of duck, duck, goose before bed.”  Then with a wag of his finger and a more playful tone, he continued, “No squabbling while I’m gone understand?”

A chorus of happy yes’s followed Lance as he left the room.

Me and Ea snagged some beds near the door and started to unpack.  We were a little nervous among so many new faces but we soon we were talking with our bunk-neighbours like we had known them all our lives.  In fact we quickly forgot about unpacking and just got down to the serious business of mucking around like kits at camp.

When Lance returned, it was to a room of loud, happy, cubs all getting along nicely.

“Okay, campers!”  He said as he entered the room.

When that failed to get anyone’s attention, he raised his voice slightly, “Campers, If I could just have your attention for a moment!!”

That caused one or two ears to perk up, but the few who were paying attention lost interest quickly when they saw that no one else was.  Lance sighed.

Then, taking a lung full of air and a shoe from under a nearby bunk, he proceeded to shout “CAMPERS!!”  At the top of his voice whilst bringing the heel of the shoe against the door frame with a violent thump.

Fifty cubs jumped simultaneously and stopped what they were doing.

“Thank you.”  Lance tossed the shoe aside and continued nonchalantly, “Right, if you four follow Harry to the hall.”  Here he gestured at Rei, Ea and two other campers, “The rest of you can form a circle in the middle of the room…”

The rest of Lance’s words were cut off as Harry quickly ushered us out of the room.  We quickly and quietly walked the short distance between bunk house and the hall.  Any attempts we made to talk to Harry were met with grunts or silence.  His face was completely blank, like a statue’s, betraying no emotion at all.

Once we were in the hall we saw that eight ‘bays’ had been temporarily sectioned off from the rest of the room using blue hospital curtains.  Only three of the bays were unoccupied.  The curtains were drawn on the other five.  Each bay (at least the three I could see into) had a doctor and a nurse assigned to it, both wolves (again in the bays I could see into).

We walked to the closest, where Harry put a meaty paw on my shoulder and walked me into the bay.

“Here’s the first camper Doc.”  He said simply and slowly.

The doctor looked up, “Thank you Harry.”  He said.

It could have been my imagination, but I thought I saw a shiver pass through Harry’s body when the doctor thanked him.  In any case he took one step back and drew the curtain behind him, leaving me with the two wolves.

The doctor, a dog, was a red wolf.  His assistant was a bitch and a timber wolf.

“C’mon lad.”  The doctor said impatiently, “Up on the table.”

The nurse helped me onto the table where I sat with my legs dangling over the side.

“Whatsyer’ name cub?”  The doctor asked in a tone which suggested he really couldn’t care less.

“Rei Sir.”  I answered politely as my parents had always taught me to.

“Rei, Rei.  Rei what?”  He demanded as he dug through a pile of clipboards.  Then pulling one from the middle of the pile he forestalled my reply by saying “Nevermind.  I’ve found it.”

He flicked through the attached pages and a slight smile formed on his lips.  “Well Rei.”  He said cheerfully, “Shall we begin?”

“Uh?  I Suppose?”  I stammered, surprised by his sudden change in mood.

“That’s a good boy.”  I felt a shiver of pleasure as he praised me.  He turned to address the nurse, “Have you got the straps ready?”

“Yes doctor.”  The nurse replied handing him a black strap with a rigid plastic square in its centre and a cable running off to one side.

I recognised it as being the similar to the one used on me during my first week in school, four years previously.  I followed the cable with my eyes and sure enough it was connected to a matt-grey metal box about 15 centimetres on each side.

Like the box I’d seen previously, dials, buttons, indicators and lights covered the top face.  Unlike that first box, which had only four cables hanging off it one of which had been the power cable, this box was covered in cables.  Dozens of thick, black, rubber cables jutted out of all four side faces, in all directions.

They gave the device a strange contradictory appearance.  The tangle of root-like cables growing from the sides of device gave it an organic, living appearance.  The sterile, perfectly machined, matt metal cube in the centre of the nest of wires, on the other hand, was anything but organic.

Neither aspect was particularly pleasing though.  Whether it was plant, animal, machine or something else entirely it radiated a disquieting malevolent aura.

I shook my head slightly.  It was a silly thought.  I had been hooked up to one of these machines before and, although I had no idea what they were for, I was none the worse for it.  What did it matter if it wasn’t particularly nice to look at?  It was just a machine.

My parents had always told me not to be afraid of doctors or dentists.  Things like injections sounded scary, but they always turned out to be no big deal.  This would be the same.

The doctor wrapped the band around my forehead and fastened the buckle at the back.  Out of curiosity, I tried to look at the band, but only succeeded in making myself cross eyed.  In the meantime the doctor had adjusted some dials on the box and pressed a few buttons.

He looked up at the nurse and asked, “Ready?”

The nurse nodded in affirmation and he pressed the button.

A heavy bass beat filled my head, pushing out all thought.  It was a single distorted note looped so that it repeated every second or so.

Buh dudu da…Buh dudu da…Buh dudu da…

The sound was so low and heavy that, despite the fact it was only in my mind, I imagined I could feel it resonate throughout my body.

With my mind stopped my eyes uncrossed and I stared, alert but vacant, at the curtain in front of me.  Once they could see I was totally zoned out and complacent, the two wolves overseeing my treatment moved so they were standing either side of me.  The nurse took my feet and the doctor cradled the back of my head and placed a hand on my chest.  Together they swung my inert body so that I was laying, belly up, in the middle of the table, staring at the ceiling with a head empty of everything except the noise.  Quickly they rearranged me so that my limbs were spread out slightly, hands facing palms up, my tail placed so that it exactly bisected the space between my legs.

They worked efficiently and wordlessly on my vulnerable form.  From the precision with which they worked, which was was normally only ever seen on assembly lines, it was obvious that they had done this to many helpless cubs many times in the past.

First the nurse unbuttoned my shirt, tugging the garment half way down over my shoulders and exposing the slow rise and fall of my chest and belly to the air.  The doctor took one of the many cables and brought it to the bed.  This cable ended in a much larger strap which had three black plastic squares on it.  He fastened the strap around my torso.

The position of two of the squares corresponded exactly with my nipples and the third which was slightly off centre rested over my heart.  As they made contract with my body The sensations of the vibrations I imagined I could feel increased under the areas where the squares made contact.  Slowly my heart beat and my breathing started to fall in line with the thrumming noise in my head.  The vibrations in my body were pure pleasure and it was even more pleasurable when I let my breathing follow the rhythm set by the machine.  Breathing in at the beginning of the note and out as it decayed and faded.

Two more straps were wound around my upper arms - the cool plastic squares just under each arm pit.  There were ten small, fiddly straps attached to the base of each of my fingers and two across my open palms.  My hands contracted and relaxed slightly, spasming in time with the beat in my mind.  Another strap went over my belly button and the vibrations suddenly seemed to fill my torso, covering every square centimetre from my nipples to my belly.  The sudden increase in sensation was enough to make my mindless body writhe from the pleasure.

The wolves working on me stopped and put me back in the correct position before they continued.

The nurse reached for the clasp of my shorts and unbuttoned me.  Then, after lowering my fly, she pulled my shorts down to my knees.  I lay there, depantsed by a nurse, with tail trapped half in, half out of my shorts.  My briefs were plain white with red stitching.  The tiny bulge in them twitched with the same rhythm that filled the rest of my being.

The undies soon joined my shorts about my knees.  The nurse took hold of the elastic and peeled them down my plump legs, exposing my youthful sheath and balls to the mercies of the wolves.  At this point I was in the curious position of being totally naked whilst still wearing all my cloths.  I had just been unwrapped like a parcel.

The doctor got to work on my lower half immediately.  A strap went around the base of my tail and another at the tip.  Immediately the sound coursed down my spine to the end of my brush and back up again.  Then two more straps were secured about my thighs and the vibrations, which previously ended in my stomach, jumped again to envelop my hips and thighs as well.  My balls twitched move vigorously under the vibration’s delicious onslaught.

My little dicky was not immune to the sudden increase in pleasure that surrounded it.  I felt the now familiar tingling sensation building in my crotch as my kithood engorged and rose throbbing proudly from my sheath.  All two inches of cub meat jutted at a forty-five degree angle to my belly.

The doctor smiled a perverted smile as my body reacted to the treatment.  He took the last three unused cables from the machine in one hand and my cock in the other.  The throbbing and pulsing of my erection matched the pulsing in my head and the touch of the doctor, an older, stronger, male wolf just made the sensations all the greater.

He slipped the first of the cables, which terminated in a small harness of sorts, and slipped it over my hardness.  He adjusted the straps so that it was snug to my sheath and balls.  If I’d thought that my balls were twitching before they were positively jumping now.

The second to last cable ended in a strap which went around the tip of my cock.  I thrust upwards to meet it, as it touched and was secured to my length.  A moan with nothing but mindless bliss escaped my muzzle.

The very last strap went tight around my immature knot.  I was floating, lost, in a sea of sound and sensation barely aware of the world any more.

The doctor took a step back, took a critical look at his handy work and then, satisfied, flicked a switch on the top face of the box.

Pictures began to invade my memory.  I was too overwhelmed by the pleasure to hold on to any of them for more than a second before they slipped from my grasp and burrowed into my subconscious in search of a home.

The sound increased in both speed and amplitude and the world about me started to white out.  I was twisting and writhing on the table in pure ecstasy, as the pleasure built to its peak.

Just before I reached the point of no return I managed to hold back a single impression from one of the images in my head.  It was just one single word, one tiny fragment of the image that I’d managed to retain.  It made no sense to me at all.  The word was ‘soup’.

Then I orgasmed and the world went white.

When I woke again I was being helped back into a sitting position by the nurse, my clothing was all present and correct, and my memory of the events after the head band was placed on me were gone.

“Woo…Wha’ happend?”  I asked as I tried to get the world to stop spinning.

“Nothing much dear,” the nurse replied, “you’re just a little fuzzy.  Don’t worry.  It’s normal.”

The lingering after effects of the treatment had left me a bit gullible and I uncritically accepted her reassurance.

As I nodded my agreement and the world span more violently.  The nurse caught me and held me steady.

The remainder of the exam was a bit of a blur, but I recall reflex tests, eye, mouth and ear examinations, photos being taken and my body mass index being measured.  The doctor and nurse asked me various questions, I think they were innocent enough, but I can’t remember any of them.

Finally the curtains were drawn back and I stumbled forward.  My sense of time was a little messed up, but Harry was still there so the whole process couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes.

Eachann and one of the other campers were already standing with him.  As I made my way unsteadily towards them I tripped and fell.  Eachann caught me.

“You okay?”  He asked, he looked a little woozy himself.

“Yeah…fantastic.”  I slurred.

Harry lifted me to my feet and propped me up against Ea.  He was about to say something to us, but the last camper in our entourage chose that moment to stumble out of his bay and wobble his way over to us.

“All right boys,” Harry said, “back to the hut with you.  Follow me.”

We followed him.  It was fortunate that the hut was only a minutes walk from the hall because none of us could have managed a longer distance.  I was leaning heavily on Ea who was the least messed up of us.

I was surprised by that.  I remembered that last time we were hooked up to one of those devices Ea was the worst affected.  I wouldn’t have noticed that just ten seconds ago but the cool night air was doing wonders for my fuzzed up head.

“Ea,” I began uncertainly, “how are you feeling?”

He looked at me, surprised that I was concerned about him when I was the one having trouble standing, “I’m fine.”

“Las’ time you threw up.”  I said plainly.  My voice was still slurred but I could feel the sharpness return to my eyes and to my thoughts.

“Yeah.  I know.”  He replied, “It didn’t affect me so bad this time.”

He paused for a moment, weighing up some internal dilemma in his mind.  Then he looked sharply towards Harry.  Seeing that he was metres ahead and not paying any attention to us, Ea snapped his head back towards me.

He began to whisper urgently in my ear, “Rei, do you know what those machines are for?”

“No.”  I answered simply since I had no idea at all.

“I asked the doctor.”  He hissed softly, “He said it was to make sure everything was ‘okay’ upstairs.”  Ea punctuated that by tapping his forehead.

“Makes sense.”  I said not seeing what had Ea so concerned, “They put that head band on you after all.”

“Doesn’t that worry you?”  Ea asked.  He turned to examine my face with the full force of his intent stare.

“No.”  I answered.  Ea looked disappointed or something.  “Look Ea,” I began, trying to put his mind to rest, “the whole world isn’t hiding some big secret from you.  There’s no secret conspiracy out to get you.  It’s just a big, boring, sliver box that no one but doctors care about.  It’s for checking you haven’t gone nuts.”

He looked unconvinced.

“That’s it!”  I said suddenly, “You’re upset ’cause you failed the test, didn’t you?  They know you’re a nut.”

“Am not!”  He replied.

“You’re the nuttiest kid I know.”  I answered smugly.

“Anyway, if anyone’s a nut it’s you Rei.”  He asserted.

“Keep telling yourself that.”  I laughed.

“I will…you nut.”  He quipped back at me.

By that point we crossed the threshold of our hut and our conversation was cut short by a full on collision with the ‘goose’ from the riotous game that was going on inside.

Lance picked four more campers to go with Harry for their exams.  He offered their places in the circle to us, but we were all still out of it and decided to hit our bunks instead.  Despite the loud game in progress, all four of us were fast asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillows.

And that was our first half day of camp.

The next morning we were woken by Lance at six AM sharp.  Normally I’d pitch a fit at being woken so early, but this morning I felt refreshed, alert and totally free from the side effects of last night’s ordeal, so I let it slide.  Lance hurried us into the showers and told us we were to be dried, dressed and standing by our bunks by no later than half six.

There was quite a lot of playing about, messing around and general joviality done in that half hour, especially in the showers, but at the end of it we were, to a kit, standing by our bunks dry and dressed.

Lance then proceeded to lead us on a 3 mile hike, which he euphemistically entitled ‘exercise’ and claimed was ‘good for us’, before breakfast which was at half seven.

Breakfast was a surprise.  I had expected that there would be food waiting for us when we were herded into the hall along with the occupants of other three huts.  Instead we were greeted by a large empty space (the medical teams had evidently packed up and left last night).  It turned out that we were expected to do all the work.

We were divided into work gangs.  One gang would fetch and set out the tables and chairs.  Another would be putting out plates and cutlery.  Yet another would be preparing the food.

Then we would be sitting down to eat.  Meal time would be until eight.  Anyone who finished before then would have to stay in their places until eight.  Anyone who wasn’t finished would have to leave their food where it was at that time.

The we would be divided into gangs again to clean up.  One gang to collect the plates and cutlery.  One gang to wash them.  And one gang to rearrange the tables and chairs for the next activity which was arts and crafts at half eight.

During arts and crafts we were given a pattern for something, the materials to make it and were told to make as many of them as we could.  Usually they were patterns for shoes or clothing of some kind.  In one case I was given the pattern to make a wallet.  They all looked extremely complicated, but, after a few tries and much to my surprise, I managed to make each one flawlessly.

It was amazing.  I looked at a pattern and then it was like my hands moved by themselves to make it.  I knew that it must be taking me some time to complete all the steps in assembling a pair of trainers, but it was like time stood still while I worked.  I would pick up the materials to build them and the next thing I knew another finished shoe would be in my hand.  I could remember all the steps I took from start to end, but they were instantaneous to me.  I guessed this must be something like what Ea’s focus thing must feel like.

Speaking of Ea, he didn’t seem to be enjoying arts and crafts as much as the rest of us.  He looked distinctly sullen and his efforts were a bit lack lustre.  He was making the same type of trainers I was, but many of his joins were of poor quality and the glue seemed to be leaking from them.  One of his efforts had come apart after he had finished it.

I was surprised.  Ea was normally the achiever in my circle of friends.

I got back to work.

I was surprised when the counsellors told us it was midday.  I looked at my pile of shoes with pride.  It was a large pile, and I had made them all - each and every one of them.

Midday was apparently lunch time.  It followed a pattern similar to breakfast.

Then we had another hour of ‘exercise’ under the guise of ‘fun and games’.  Today the game was football.

Then we were led back to the hall for another session of ‘arts and crafts’.  I made a pile of sweaters this time.

Then from six to half six in the afternoon we had supper.  Which was the same sort of routine as lunch and breakfast, except that after we had finished we put away the tables and chairs and swept the hall.  Then at seven we were led back to our huts for ‘free time’ followed by ‘lights out’.

‘Free time’ was a game like blind man’s bluff or bulldog arranged by Lance.  Then we had to shower (which were as riotous as the morning showers) and be in our bunks before ‘lights out’, which was at eight sharp.  At eight Lance would take his leave of us, bidding us a good night and locking the door behind him.

Of course we were all supposed to sleep at that point, but we didn’t.  Being young tods, away from parental control for the first time in our lives, we lived it up after lights out.

That was pretty much our schedule for the entire month we spent at Happy Vales.  The days weren’t exactly the same of course.

For example, the forms that our exercise took varied, sometimes it was a hike, sometimes swimming, sometimes we played football and others we played rugby.

On the third day, I found I had a hidden talent for cooking, when I was selected to join the cooking gang for the lunch sitting.  I was standing in front of a pan of potato stew and it was like something in my soul clicked.  I could feel what needed to be done to turn the potato stew in front of me into the greatest potato stew known to lifekind.

I was right.  Several of the counsellors complimented me on my skills, Lance even said I had a natural talent.  After that I begged which ever counsellor was charge to let me join the cooking gang for the sitting.  More often than not, they let me - I was that good.

Also, our games after lights out had turned into all out orgies by the end of our second day at camp.  On the second night we discovered that we were all hyper charged bundles of curiosity, who wanted nothing more than to find every possible act and position that two tods could do ‘it’ in.  After we had ‘broken the ice’ and admitted that, there was no holding us back, and we were very thorough in our experiments.

It turned out that Lance and the other counsellors had been taking some of the other campers quietly off to the side for a little extra ‘education’ during exercise.  Education that the campers in question were only too happy to share with the rest of us after lights out.

I was a little miffed that none of the counsellors had approached me yet.  They seemed to have systematically worked their way through almost all the other campers in my hut.  I mean it wasn’t as if I was especially interested in Lance and his pervert colleagues.  It’s just I felt a little insulted they hadn’t even tried to molest me.  Wasn’t I good enough looking or something?

In any case, most of the ‘education’ that the campers gathered together under cover of night, to talk about hushed whispers and to re-enact in the long, torch-cast shadows, was nothing of the sort to me.

I didn’t speak up because I didn’t want to spoil anyone’s fun, but Æð and me had been doing far more adventurous things over the past year than the experiences Lance and his ilk were providing.

Æð and I had been closer than ever since that sleep over nearly two years ago.  We’d tried every combination of jerking, sucking and humping we could come up with since then, and, in the process, we’d discovered every little thing which gave each other pleasure.

I learnt every inch of his body, and I knew exactly were and what to do to make my best bud soar.  He knew what made me soar too, of course.  It was an incredibly intimate bond we shared, even for two best friends.  After all our experiments, we had learnt so much about ourselves and each other.  Fortunately, just by chance, our preferences ‘meshed’.

Æð has a really aggressive personality.  I don’t mean that he’s gets all rough and physical.  No, he’s a really sweet and gentle pup.  But he really likes to take charge.  I think it’s another wolf thing - he has to be the alpha male.  He reciprocates sometimes, but most of the time it’s me sucking him off or letting him hump me.  Even when we cuddle, it’s Æð who takes the initiative.  When we kiss, it’s his tongue which is all over my mouth.

And I love it.  I mean, not that I don’t love being on the receiving end sometimes, but dropping to my knees for Æð is really hot.

I know Æð would never, ever, force me to do anything, but it’s so appealing knowing that I couldn’t resist him if he did.  There is something about a big (he’s about an inch taller than me), strong (he has chubby little cub muscles, I don’t), wolf imposing himself on you which turns my insides to jelly.  I just melt in his arms.  Letting him have his way with me.  Pleasuring him.

I think I should stop now.  If I think about Æð much more I’m going to cum and that would disappoint Ea.

It’s lights out at the end of our first week at camp and we’re all ready and eager to hump each other’s brains out.  All except Ea.

Ea hasn’t been enjoying camp.  At times I feel guilty because I talked him into coming to Happy Vales with me.  Other times, I feel really mad at him for being such a wet blanket.  I mean everyone else is having fun, why can’t he?

Of course, his mood has chased off the few campers who tried to be friends with him.  So I’m stuck with him tagging along with me.  I mean, I like Eachann, but I don’t want him clinging to me every minute for the entire four weeks.

Unfortunately that looks like the way it’s going to be.

I really don’t get what his problem is.  He doesn’t enjoy ‘arts and crafts’.  He doesn’t enjoy ‘exercise’ or ‘fun and games’.  He doesn’t even enjoy the orgies.

Right now I’m trying to convince him to let me give him a blow job.  I mean what sort of killjoy turns down a blow job?

“C’mmon Ea,” I plead, “just let me make you feel good.  It’ll get you in the mood.  Perhaps some of the others would like to go with you after.”

“I’m not in the mood.”  Ea sulks, blanket clutched tight around his waist.

He’s been clinging to that blanket since the second night when we broke the ice.  Every night I have to coax him out from under it.  He has to be the shyest cub I’ve ever met.  I’ll get him out eventually, but I’ve yet to get him to pay anyone back for even a hand job.

“Why not?”  I ask the same question I ask every night, I’ve yet to get a clear answer to this from him, “What are you so embarrassed about Ea?  Everyone’s seen your body.  Hell, everyone thinks you have a cute body.”

“It’s not right Rei.”  He says.

“What’s not right?  Your body?”  I ask.

“No.  This.”  He says gesturing at the piles of writhing cubs, flesh and fur around us.  “This doesn’t happen.  It’s not right.”

“You’re such a prude Ea.”  I sigh.

“No.  You don’t understand Rei.”  He said, “This…doesn’t…happen.”  He speaks slowly, stressing each word, “Not in the real world.”

“It obviously does Ea.”  I say, “Just look around you.”

“But…” He begins.

“No buts.  Unless it’s your butt.”  I cut him off, “I want to give you a blow job.  You must be nuts if you don’t want one.”

He doesn’t answer and I sigh to myself.  I reach over to wrestle the blanket from his grip.  He gives only a token resistance.  I can tell he’s actually turned on by the thought of a muzzle job and the show put on by the other campers.

I don’t know what his problem is though.  How many other kits get to have such great experiences, at camp, at ten years old?  Actually, now that I think about it - everyone in the room is going at it, so that would be one hundred percent?  That can’t be right can it?

I shake my head to clear it.  It must be right because I can see it is so with my own eyes.  Only a fool ignores the evidence of their own eyes.

I dive down on Ea and get busy.  He’s soon squirming and gripping the sheets as I bob up and down on his member.  His head is thrown back, his ears are flat against his skull and his eyes are wedged closed tight.  I get a moan from him as I lick around his knot and dip my tongue into the saltly depths of his sheath.

I feel a licking on my right butt cheek and I realise that another camper has come up behind me.  I lift my tail without stopping to look around and see who it is.  I know that, unlike Ea, they’ll get me off.  A muzzle dives between my cheeks after taking a naughty nibble at the underside of my tail.

The mystery cubs tongue is everywhere, from the tip of my cock to the base of my tail, nowhere is spared.  Ea’s toes are curling and uncurling as he approaches the point of no return.  I feel a hand grip my cock from behind and the mystery camper lining his kithood up with my tail hole.

This is heaven.  I just don’t understand why Eacahnn doesn’t think so.

[center][b]~ Lance ~[\b][\center]

I watch the night’s proceedings on a low res black and white tri-d monitor.  In front of me the fifty cubs of hut three copulate, unaware of the hidden audience appraising their ‘progress’.

Behind me my Master grips my hips, thrusting into my tail hole.  With each inward thrust he drives my belly hard into the wooden desk I’m bent over.  Each time he pulls out I’m half dragged off the side.

The camp is, in fact, a very clever part of my Masters’ designs.  They have many, many cubs to process and many regimes for the cubs to follow.  It’s a logistical nightmare.  So they came up with a method of getting the cubs to self select.

The cubs themselves ‘choose’ which camp they wish to attend according to species (foxen or Wolfen), sex (male, female or other), orientation (hetro, homo or bi-sexual), apparent skills (far too many to list) and a dozen other factors besides.  It saves a lot of work and it scales nicely to the national level my Masters are working at.

This camp is one of four in the Lyngvi City area dedicated to “Tail raising, faggot, fox boys” as one of my Masters put it.

It’s my job to assess the reactions of each of the cubs in my hut.  It’s very hard to take notes while my Master is using me this way, but I do not intend to let him down.

At the moment I’m worried about Eachann.  The cub doesn’t seem to be taking to our ‘curriculum’ very well.  I think he may be borderline autistic.

The thought surprises me for a moment.  The diagnosis came to me almost by intuition.  It just sort of bubbled up from the splintered depths of my mind.  Of course a lot of things are bubbling in my brain these days.

I think I used to be a teacher, before the emancipation.  Certainly I worked with cubs, I can remember that much.  There are one or two smiling faces which I can still recall.  I can’t put any names to them though.

They’re all Wolven cubs, so I assume I was a private tutor for rich families.  Certainly there were no foxes teaching in public schools back then.  It’s just conjecture, I can’t remember clearly.  In any case, I’m fairly sure I was Owned by an educational provider.  Which would account for my ability to make quick, informal, diagnoses.

My memory isn’t what it used to be you see, not since I met my Masters.

I can’t even remember my name any more.  It isn’t Lance.  Definitely not, No.  I can’t remember exactly why I’m called Lance, but I still have scraps of memories that whisper terrible, terrible hints about the name.

It was ten years ago, more or less, I can’t remember exactly.  It’s all fuzzy.  I can remember little bits, images, shapes, feelings, but no sounds, or colours, or smells.

We were all set free and my Owners, at least the Wolves who had been my Owners up until then, didn’t keep me on as an employee after they had to start paying me.  I think the company folded a few years after.

I should have gone back to the fox lands with the others, but I was afraid.  I was born a slave, Lyngvi was the only world I’d ever known.

So I stayed.

I had just the money the government gave me when they set us free.  It didn’t last long, not with no other income.  I tried to find another job, but there was nothing.  Nothing for me.

Homeless and hungry, I soon found others like me, other foxes cut off from everyone.  We looked out for each other, the forgotten ones.  Soon our numbers grew and instead of just watching out for each other we started carving out a piece of the city for ourselves.  We formed a ‘society’ of our own and we took care of our own.

We had nothing.  So we turned to crime.  We harassed and intimidated the neighbourhoods around us.  Forcing out Wolven businesses and promoting foxen ones instead.  Even the law abiding foxes who weren’t in our society were sympathetic to us and turned a blind eye to our actions.  After all, we were kindred and they knew that if they helped us we would help them.

I can’t remember anything clearly from the time the society got really organised.  But one memory is burnt into my mind forever.  It’s intimately connected to my name although I’m not exactly sure about the details.

I’m kneeling over the body of a Wolf.  He’s laying face down, on the concrete floor of the back room of a shop.  A feeling of horror permeates the memory.  In my bloody hands there is a knife.  Bits of gore stick to it.  I’m shaking all over.  I’m gibbering something, but I can’t hear it.  Like my other memories there is no sound.

Another fox runs up to me and grabs my shoulders.  Cold horror gives way to heart thumping terror.  He shakes me and shouts something urgent at me.  He’s scared off a few seconds later by something in the main shop.  He dashes for an open window and then he’s gone.

For a few seconds I’m alone with a dead dog’s blood pooling at my knees.  The pool is cooling by the time it reaches me.  I start to hyperventilate.  Just moments earlier this dog’s life blood would have been warm and coursing through his veins just as mine was.  Now I was soaking in it.  I tried to steady my breath, to get up and leave this morbid place, but terror dulled my movements.

Then the police arrive.

The next clear memory I have is of being in a cell.  My name is Lance in this memory.  It wasn’t before.  The same horror that was in the previous memory haunts this one as well.

And it swells.  I try to suppress the memories and shake off the panic attack that’s building.  Everything is okay.  I serve my Masters and nothing can be wrong with the world so long as I do.  Nothing, ever.

I slowly refocus on the world around me.  The attack only lasted for seconds this time.  No one seems to have found my heavy breathing or tension out of the ordinary, not while my Master is pounding me.

I look at the papers in front of me.  Even if it isn’t autism, Eachann’s reluctance is an issue I should bring to my Masters attention.  I make a note next to Eachann’s name on the sheet.

“What’s that boy?”  My Wolven Master asks without slowing.

“The cub, Eachann, Master.”  I reply with shaking breaths, “I think he may be a problem.”

My Master casts a critical eye over the gangly cub I indicate on the tri-d.

“He looks okay to me boy.”  He says gruffly.

And indeed he does now.  Where before he was hiding under some blankets, he is now taking part in a three way with his friend Rei and another camper.

“Sir, I think that he may have issues which should be looked into.”  I reply in between thrusts.

“Nonsense, He looks the same as all the others.”  My Master grips my hips tighter as he speaks.

I consider trying to put my case to him, but I hold my tongue when I realise that that would mean contradicting him and I can’t contradict my Masters.  That would imply that they were wrong, which is unthinkable.  Furthermore it would be suggesting that I, a lowly fox slave, knew better than my Masters.  The idea was ludicrous.

I obliterated my observations of Eachann from the record since, as my Masters were always right, the records were obviously erroneous.

My Masters first visited me back when I was in prison, awaiting trial.  The trial was a merely a formality, it’s outcome a foregone conclusion.  They came to see me.  They said I was in a lot of trouble.  That I was going to go to prison for a very, very long time.  I said I knew.

They made me an offer.

They said I could go free.  Free as a bird.  All charges dropped.

All I had to do was work for them.

Of course, I agreed.

So they took me away.  And strapped me into a machine.  And fried my brain.  And when I woke up I knew they were my Masters.  And I was so happy that they had chosen me to serve.

I was fortunate too.  Our Masters didn’t choose us for our intelligence, but for our loyalty.  They had no worries about the brain damage their machines caused us so long as they made us loyal.

Changing a furson’s world view isn’t something that can be done easily.  A world view is rooted in the deepest parts of the psyche, it takes a lot of digging around in the grey matter to change it.

Our Masters were in a hurry, they needed slaves quickly.  So they decided to give us only one session in the machines each, with only minimal analysis before hand.  Instead of careful digging, transplantation and nurture of the new psyche over a long course of treatments, my Masters ripped my brain to shreds in an effort to do all the work in just one day.

I was so fortunate.  I managed to survive the butchery and indoctrination with only minimal damage to my brain.

I looked over to the other side of the room, where Harry was being yiffed by another of our Masters.  The Master was sitting in a chair, with the trousers of his suit around his ankles, and a naked, panting, Harry in his lap, riding his cock.  Harry had a dumb grin plastered on his face which betrayed the empty headed ecstasy he felt at serving as his Master’s yiff toy.  The rise and fall of the L3 emblem, branded on the flesh of his right hip, as he pleasured his Master was almost hypnotic.

Harry had not been as fortunate as me.  The treatments he had been given had all but destroyed his mind.  He rarely spoke and when he did it was haltingly as if he had to think hard to form each word.  I’d never met Harry before coming to this camp, but I don’t think he had been especially clever even before his spell in the machine.

Of course, Harry’s job didn’t involve a lot of thought.  He was the ‘muscle’ of hut three.  Where it was my job to help twist their vulnerable, trusting minds to my Masters design, it was his job to ensure that the cubs didn’t get out of line.  Should the any of the campers ‘wake up’ and make a break for freedom or organise a rebellion, it would be Harry’s job to sort them out.

Of course, our methods were such that the likelihood of a camper realising something was up was close to zero.  Harry’s role was insurance against a remote possibility.

I turned my attention back to the tri-d.  My Master was picking up the pace, obviously close to release.  I did my best to make it as pleasurable for him as I could.

I found a profound gratitude to my Masters rising up inside me as I watched the cubs cavorting beneath the gaze of the hidden cameras.  My Masters would soon take Ownership of these kits, as was their right, but they would be spared the brute force methods that had been used on me.  Instead their treatments would be slow and measured, supervised every step of the way by specialists who cared for their well being.

My Masters were merciful to delay claiming their privileges so that their slaves would be spared suffering.  It was truly the mark of a superior race that the Wolves would consider the well being of those so far beneath them.  My heart sang that foxes had found such considerate, philanthropic Owners in the Wolves.

With a final thrust My Master knotted in me.  I yerfed in pleasure as I felt myself fill with his seed.  A moment later a sticky, cooling puddle, sandwiched between my belly and the desk, marked my appreciation for my Master’s use.  

