{
"submission_id": "3478022",
"keywords": [
{
"keyword_id": "631",
"keyword_name": "coyote",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "12366"
},
{
"keyword_id": "37",
"keyword_name": "cub",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "284834"
},
{
"keyword_id": "944",
"keyword_name": "deer",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "30771"
},
{
"keyword_id": "123",
"keyword_name": "female",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "1102977"
},
{
"keyword_id": "33",
"keyword_name": "fox",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "251144"
},
{
"keyword_id": "165",
"keyword_name": "male",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "1213072"
},
{
"keyword_id": "746390",
"keyword_name": "the lion's den",
"contributed": "f",
"submissions_count": "24"
}
],
"hidden": "f",
"scraps": "f",
"favorite": "f",
"favorites_count": "21",
"create_datetime": "2024-11-16 11:21:18.291377+00",
"create_datetime_usertime": "16 Nov 2024 12:21 CET",
"last_file_update_datetime": "2024-11-16 09:34:39.537879+00",
"last_file_update_datetime_usertime": "16 Nov 2024 10:34 CET",
"username": "MrBIue",
"user_id": "932587",
"user_icon_file_name": "355282_MrBIue_screenshot_2024-09-04_at_07-13-01_423423.png_png_image_2975_2132_pixels_scaled_43_.png",
"user_icon_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/large/355/355282_MrBIue_screenshot_2024-09-04_at_07-13-01_423423.png_png_image_2975_2132_pixels_scaled_43_.png",
"user_icon_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/medium/355/355282_MrBIue_screenshot_2024-09-04_at_07-13-01_423423.png_png_image_2975_2132_pixels_scaled_43_.png",
"user_icon_url_small": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/small/355/355282_MrBIue_screenshot_2024-09-04_at_07-13-01_423423.png_png_image_2975_2132_pixels_scaled_43_.png",
"file_name": "5304580_MrBIue_tld_chapter1_final.rtf",
"file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/5304/5304580_MrBIue_tld_chapter1_final.rtf",
"file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/5304/5304580_MrBIue_tld_chapter1_final.rtf",
"file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/5304/5304580_MrBIue_tld_chapter1_final.rtf",
"thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5304/5304580_MrBIue_tld_chapter1_final.jpg",
"thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5304/5304580_MrBIue_tld_chapter1_final.jpg",
"thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5304/5304580_MrBIue_tld_chapter1_final.jpg",
"thumb_huge_x": "300",
"thumb_huge_y": "281",
"thumb_large_x": "200",
"thumb_large_y": "187",
"thumb_medium_x": "120",
"thumb_medium_y": "112",
"files": [
{
"file_id": "5304580",
"file_name": "5304580_MrBIue_tld_chapter1_final.rtf",
"file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/5304/5304580_MrBIue_tld_chapter1_final.rtf",
"file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/5304/5304580_MrBIue_tld_chapter1_final.rtf",
"file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/5304/5304580_MrBIue_tld_chapter1_final.rtf",
"mimetype": "text/rtf",
"submission_id": "3478022",
"user_id": "932587",
"submission_file_order": "0",
"full_size_x": null,
"full_size_y": null,
"screen_size_x": null,
"screen_size_y": null,
"preview_size_x": null,
"preview_size_y": null,
"initial_file_md5": "8d5a05c54f85580de8334aa3755511dc",
"full_file_md5": "8d5a05c54f85580de8334aa3755511dc",
"large_file_md5": "",
"small_file_md5": "",
"thumbnail_md5": "46364f946820fed6530d2f5fe6a22ee2",
"deleted": "f",
"create_datetime": "2024-11-16 09:34:39.537879+00",
"create_datetime_usertime": "16 Nov 2024 10:34 CET",
"thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5304/5304580_MrBIue_tld_chapter1_final.jpg",
"thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5304/5304580_MrBIue_tld_chapter1_final.jpg",
"thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5304/5304580_MrBIue_tld_chapter1_final.jpg",
"thumb_huge_x": "300",
"thumb_huge_y": "281",
"thumb_large_x": "200",
"thumb_large_y": "187",
"thumb_medium_x": "120",
"thumb_medium_y": "112"
}
],
"pools": [
{
"pool_id": "90734",
"name": "TLD : Main Story",
"description": "All of the written parts.",
"count": "2",
"submission_left_submission_id": "3477970",
"submission_left_file_name": "5304489_MrBIue_tld_contentwarning.rtf",
"submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5304/5304489_MrBIue_tld_contentwarning.jpg",
"submission_left_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5304/5304489_MrBIue_tld_contentwarning.jpg",
"submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5304/5304489_MrBIue_tld_contentwarning.jpg",
"submission_left_thumb_huge_x": "300",
"submission_left_thumb_huge_y": "281",
"submission_left_thumb_large_x": "200",
"submission_left_thumb_large_y": "187",
"submission_left_thumb_medium_x": "120",
"submission_left_thumb_medium_y": "112"
}
],
"description": "I'm so insanely rusty with writing and I promise it'll improve the more I get into it. I'm just glad to get one of the chapters out finally.\n\nI think most of the chapters will be shorter, around 2k - 4k each, so I can get them out faster.",
"description_bbcode_parsed": "I'm so insanely rusty with writing and I promise it'll improve the more I get into it. I'm just glad to get one of the chapters out finally.
I think most of the chapters will be shorter, around 2k - 4k each, so I can get them out faster.",
"writing": "[i][center]Nineteen gigabytes.[/center][/i]\n“Hold on. Internet's slow. It always is in this corner of the building.” She idly twirled her computer mouse, waiting. The printer in the corner of the room jumped into a cacophony of harsh whirring and clicks.\n\n[i]One. Nine. Nineteen. Nineteen gigabytes. A handful of low res videos and photos. That was it. That was all they found. That was all I had.[/i]\n\n“Here.” She dropped the thin stack of papers in front of me. “I need you to sign those for me.”\n\nNineteen gigabytes on my computer that no one should have fucking been looking through in the first place. Okay, well it wasn't my computer. It was the company's. But it was[i] my[/i] personal computer at the company. A computer that they shouldn't have been looking through. That they had no right to. I don't remember signing any papers or clicking on any boxes that would digitally sign away my rights when they hired me - unless I missed it. Did I miss that? Was it on some bullshit text box that appeared when I booted up the computer? Did I click a little tiny button on there? A button that said they could go through my shit? I don't think I did.\n\nOkay, well, because it was on my work computer, it was copied onto the cloud storage that any administrator could see. I wasn't aware of that. And, yeah, maybe that's an issue, and maybe someone else would've eventually caught me that way, but still.\n\nShe slid a pen across the table to me. I signed all of the lines she had circled without reading any of it. Did any of it even matter? I was already fucked. I pushed the papers back to her.\n\n[i][center]Dr. Kelly West.[/center][/i]\n\nThe plaque was old and dusty and one of the corners was chipped off. Nothing in the office had been cleaned in months by the looks of it. The cheap wooden desk in front of me was covered in heat stain rings from coffee mugs. Dead flies littered the window sills underneath cracked, dusty, black-turned-gray sun-bleached blinds. The filing cabinets were rusted. The air was heavy and humid. Stale. The yellow-tinted light above us would flicker every few minutes. It made a low, quiet – but not quiet enough – buzzing noise that was starting to give me a headache.\n\nMy name is Dexter Hoffield. I am 28 years old. I am a bat-eared fox, roughly 5’3” (5’2.75” technically but that’s close enough and I’m there if I’m wearing shoes anyway), 120lbs, lean, some muscle but that’s only because there’s little to no fat on me. Big ears. Very big ears. It’s in the name. Otocyon megalotis, or ‘big-ear ear-dog’. They didn’t have to mention the ear thing twice, you got the point across with it once. Mine are a little bigger than average. I’ve thought about getting plastic surgery for them but apparently it’d screw up my body temperature regulation. And hearing, obviously. So I deal with them.\n\nI was a lead software engineer at a tech company called TexTech Inc. for only a handful of months, and now I’m not. There. You’re caught up.\n\nI was too smart; too accomplished, to be sitting in an office this disgusting, in the middle of bumfuck-nowhere Dayton, Ohio. Was Cincinnati too luxurious for me? I didn't deserve it? Fuck off.\n\nI had a penthouse in the Upper West side of New York City. A penthouse. That I paid way, way too much money for. But guess what? It didn't matter! I could afford it. I could've afforded paying double if I fucking had to. Triple, even. I was a millionaire by age twenty (entirely by my own doing), so trust me, I could’ve. (I mean it, my parents were deadbeats. Nobodies. My dad wasn’t some Fortune 500 big shot - he was a cook and my mom worked in a nursing home. Neither went to college. My dad didn’t even finish high school.) But I didn’t do it for the money. I don’t care about tech, I don’t care about societal advancements, I don’t care about coding. I just wanted to prove that I could make it and make other people mad that I did. I wanted to wipe the smug fucking smiles off of those lions and wolves and tigers that had position handed to them just because they were big tough carnivores. I wanted them to think it was a joke, a prank, that some tiny little bug-eating big-eared fox was in charge. I wanted that. But it doesn’t matter now though, does it?\n\nI suffered through hell.[i] Hell.[/i] Wasted all of highschool on a 4.0 GPA, a perfect ACT score, and a 1560 SAT score. Top of my class. Missed all social events, missed prom, zero friends, zero memories. Accepted into a prestigious university full of nepo babies and rich kids. Top of my class, again. Hell for 8 fucking years slaving away, studying and studying, shaking the hands of greasy slime-ball nerds that wore blazers over clearance bin graphic t-shirts, who couldn't even look me in the eye, sending email after email, learning how to smile and grit my teeth every time I was forced to socialize with senile, tech-illiterate CEOs, networking and crawling my way to up to the top. And for what? This? This was what I got? For all of my hard work? All of my suffering? Funny. It's funny. I'm laughing. It's really funny. Funniest fucking thing in the world.\n\nI was all over the news within 24 hours. My face was plastered on every social media site. My mugshot wasn't too flattering either. One of the cops tripped me during the walk to the squad car and I smashed my face into the curb. Broke one of the lenses in my glasses. My nose was bleeding.\n\nJournalists were cumming in their pants because TexTech had as perfect as a public image as you could have leading up to this. Squeaky clean, progressive, very promising tech startup that stockholders and the average consumer were loving equally. New social media sites, new apps, a new search engine that everyone and their mother were using, phones, computers, medical equipment, office equipment, everything. They were bulletproof… until I come along. \n[i][center]\n“TexTech Inc. hires predators?”\n“CEO Michael Tex responds to cub porn incident”\n“19GB of cub porn found on TexTech Inc. servers. What this means for the company:”\n“TexTech shares drop 14% after controversy.”[/center][/i]\n\nHow did I even get in that position? Well, their last guy smoked some weird hippy drug, got “enlightened” (aka developed schizophrenia), and fucked off into the woods somewhere. They needed somebody damn good, and fast. I was that somebody. The hiring process was extensive and exhausting but I made it through. I wonder if he had one of those gut-feelings of “Something isn't right”. A little voice in his head telling him not to hire me. A warning from God or some other celestial being. I guess not. The company prided themselves on diversity and I guess I was diverse enough.\n\nMichael Tex was a mouse. He knew the kind of shit that smaller animals went through. He knew what scavenger animals went through too. I'm not one of the “scavenger” breeds of fox – and I'd never use that dirty of a word to describe myself – but I was still a fox. And he liked me, I think. You can never tell if those kind of people are being genuine or not though. Did I feel bad for screwing him over? For screwing his company over?\n\nNo. Not really, because he also hired that slimy, ugly, loser, piece of shit intern who was sticking his nose where it shouldn't have been and he saw something he shouldn’t have seen. That’s not my fault.\n\nAt this point, I hadn't had the time nor phone (they seized it along with all of my other electronics) to watch any clips of his interviews in full. The bits and pieces I managed to see though – that smarmy little rat was stuttering and shaking through every street interrogation and news debate he was thrust into. It looked like he was about to cry in all of them.\n\nOne of Dr. West's sharp acrylic nails slammed down on a blank line. “You missed this one.” \n\nI groaned.\n\nHer eyes shot up at me. Her gaze could've burned a hole in my skull. She exhaled, loud, through her nose, nostrils flaring, and tapped the paper again. I signed it.\n\nI knew she wanted to reach across the desk and strangle me. Hurt me in any way she could. Everyone that I had dealt with so far that day did. The cops, the journalists, my coworkers (ex-coworkers), the grotesquely fat women with messy makeup behind every secretary desk of the tens of offices they dragged me through – everybody. I liked that they couldn't touch me. That the big strong men in uniforms could only grip my arms a little too hard. That they couldn't beat me. That they had to sit around and huff and cross their arms and stare daggers through the back of my head. I was a fox, sure, but not a species that the cops could get away with assaulting. \n\nApparently, at some point, I signed some consent form for some kind of therapy. I don’t know – I didn’t read anything.\n\n\"You'll be seeing Dr. Bennett for your counseling. He has an office in Columbus.\"\n\n\"That's like 2 hours away! How am I supposed to-\"\n\n\"No, it's only one. The house you'll be staying in is right outside of Dayton-\"\n\n\"So, I’m actually staying here? I’m not leaving?” \n\n\"Nobody ever said you were. You’re not in a position to be picky.\" I huffed and slumped back in the chair, crossing my arms. \"He's the closest one that's still accepting patients. Specifically patients of your kind. There's another doctor up in Cleveland if you'd prefer to go to that one.\"\n\nI sighed. \"No. No, that's fine.\"\n\n\"You'll have one on one sessions every other week, but you can attend group therapy instead if you’d like. I don’t know when, and I don’t know where. That’s for Dr. Bennett to talk to you about. You'll come back to this office every other month so I can check your progress and make sure you're following all of the protocols you've been given.\"\n\n\"So...” I shrugged my shoulders. “What? Am I supposed to live this way for the rest of my life?\" The doe paused.\n\n\"… Frankly, I have no idea. You'll be doing this until we can figure out what else to do with you. But that isn’t my job to worry about. That’s for-\"\n\nThe door swung open, loudly smacking into the wall behind it. The cork board on the wall shook. A post-it note fell off and fluttered to the ground. It was a coyote, a lieutenant.\n\n\"Hey, Kells,” He said. “How's it goin' in here? Need any help yet?\"\n\n\"I'm in the middle of something, can you please-\"\n\n\"Oh, gotcha. Gotcha. I’ll be quick. Well, me and Trav are headin' out to that Chinese place across the park. Didja want any-\"\n\n\"I'm busy,\" she snapped.\n\n\"...Okay, okay…” He paused for about a second then opened his mouth again. “We're just tryin' it out, y'know, 'cus you and Jada went to that one next to the flower shop. Fuckin' hated it. We might as well try somethin' else-”\n\nDr. West huffed. Loud. But not loud enough apparently. \n\n“Anyways- This one's not givin' ya any trouble, right?\" The coyote leaned against the back of my chair and pointed at me. \"It's always the foxes, y’know? Always. Every animal that comes through here. It's always a fox. I had to get a gray one for loiterin’ last weekend. That fucker pissed in the back a' my car!\" The coyote laughed, smacking me in the shoulder. Hard. I shrugged away. \"You gotta be careful with 'em, I swear.\" He leaned down, his snout inches away from mine.\n\nCoyotes stink. I’m biased, yes, but I really think they smell worse than the average fox. \n\n\"I've never seen a fox like big ears over ‘ere. What even are you? Thought ya was a silver fox or somethin' but nah – ya’ look weird. You're not a fennec right? What th' hell are you? You can't be one of the normal kinds, ya’ ain't mangy lookin'. And normal foxes, you can usually smell em' coming from a mile away. I didn't smell you-\"\n\n\"Danny.\" Dr. West growled, as best as a doe can, her ears flattening.\n\n\"What are those ones called.... Uh...\" He snapped his fingers, staring off into space. \"Those, like, island foxes. Are you one a' those?\" \n\nBefore I could open my mouth, he continued on, poking and prodding at me. Rambling. Eventually, Dr. West huffed, jumped up from her seat, and slammed her hands down onto the table. Her coffee mugged jumped, splattering drops onto my forms.\n\n\"[i]Jackson![/i]\" She shouted.\n\nDanny threw his hands up and took a step back. \"Okay, okay. I'm leavin'. You know you gotta loosen up a little. You're always stressed out.\" He got halfway through the door before he turned back. “I dunno if they have any kinda sweet stuff at the Chinese place but I can check it out, y’know, if it's uh...” He clicked his tongue and raised his brows. “That uh... [i]Time [/i]for you… Of the month.”\n\n“Get the fuck out of my office.” She hissed, her facade of professionalism evaporating before my eyes.\n\n“I'm not messin' with you! I'm bein' nice! Come on, I’m a dog, you think I can’t smell-” Dr. West looked like she was ready to start screaming. He cut himself off, lifted his hands up, averted his gaze, sighed, and stepped out. His voice was still loud as he talked to whoever was in the hallway, even behind the closed door. I seized my opportunity once she sat down and got settled again.\n\n“... Is that why you're being so rude to me?” I prodded, barely hiding the smile tugging at my muzzle. She ignored my comment and started typing something up on her computer. Maybe a complaint to HR. I haven’t been in many police departments but this was the least professional by far. She typed for about twenty minutes straight while I stared off into space. \n\nSo, how did I get here?\n\nYes, I got caught with some stuff I shouldn't have. I got arrested. But that's not what I mean. How did I get[i] here[/i]?\n\nI don't know.\n\nI really don't know. I think I was bored. As half-assed as an excuse that is, I don't have another. I know the usual culprits; someone gets molested as a kid – they do it to someone else when they grow up. But that didn't happen to me. My parents, while distant, never allowed for that to happen. Abuse? No, I never got abused in any other way. Physically, no. Emotionally, no. Whatever other kinds of abuse exist – no. Some cocktail of mental illness and hypersexuality? Also no. Probably. I never had that much of a libido to begin with. At the time of my arrest I had a whopping body count of two. A real Romeo, I know. I had sex once while I was in school, with a girl that felt bad for me. I wasn't seeking out sex and I hadn't sought out her. It just sorta happened. It was awkward and messy and strange. I lost my already weak erection mere minutes in, so I panicked and pretended to finish. She didn't. \n\nShe was expecting some kind of love story, I guess. To fix me. The trope of a mysterious, bitter loner ends up being a soft-hearted bad boy, a hopeless romantic, a clingy but not too clingy lover, after shown some kind of affection, and/or by taking his virginity. I wasn't an incel. I wasn't desperate to lose my virginity. I just didn't care. And if she thought that sticking my dick in some slightly-below-average-looking fennec fox was going to change that – she was very, very wrong. \n\nShe was too skinny. Ribs jutted out too far. It felt like I was fucking a shopping cart. Her fur was rough. I didn't know her body count – or how real vaginas were even supposed to feel – but she felt loose to me. Surprisingly loose, and it's not like my size is anything to brag about. Her teeth – the larger fangs, specifically – were a little crooked. Not horrifically so but if she wasn't working on fixing it, she should've started. Her nipples were puffy and inverted, areolas too big and too bumpy considering how small her chest was. Felt like I was trying to read braille when I touched them. It was off-putting. They didn't bounce.\n\nI complained about her perfume a couple minutes after faking a grunt and rolling over. It was some sickly sweet artificial vanilla scent. It clung to the mane of fur around my neck. Fennec foxes don't carry that same harsh musk most fox species do, or at least not to the same extent, but sweet perfumes still don't mesh well with it. I wear a mix of sandalwood and cardamom. She got up, she got dressed, and she left without a word. She stopped pursuing me after that. \n\nI'm not much of a looker myself but, regardless, I'm allowed to complain. Women aren't worth it. They never were. Younger females are annoying and narcissistic, especially college-aged, and I've never met an older woman that hadn't sucked the soul out of her husband. Why would I want that? I could do better than settling down and accepting decades of misery. I deserve better. I know I do.\n\nThe second time was with a prostitute. Classy, I know. I wanted to celebrate graduating and without any real friends, or a normal girlfriend, or family members that gave a shit about me (without money being involved), I found some escort service. I don’t like the word “escort” - they’re hookers. Dirty diseased-ridden whores. I get it’s a legal thing, I’m not dumb, but the type of prostitute that says “sex work” as if it’s actually work deserves to catch something lethal. \n\nMy hooker was a raccoon and she knew what she was. Nothing fancy or formal about any of it. She was big. Not fat really, just very very curvy. Thick. Massive tits, ass, hips, thighs, and a weirdly big clit. I’m not attracted to that kinda thing but her enthusiasm made up for it. She went at me for hours straight, only taking breaks when [i]I[/i] needed one. I tipped her $500. \n\nIn the morning, I panicked and broke down and spent the next month getting tested for STDs. I didn’t catch anything. \n\nAnyways, I wouldn't call myself a pedophile.\n\nI'm not. It's more of a wrong place, wrong time kinda thing. Got swept up in some weird stuff. That's it. I'm not the withered, model train-collecting, strange-smelling, never-married 80 year old freak that all the neighborhood kids know not to talk to because of “[i]That thing that he did to that one boy in the 70s[/i]” - I'm not. I'm normal. I'm as normal as anyone can be nowadays. \n\nIt wasn't even that much for fuck's sake. I mean how do you even download less than 19 gigabytes? If someone gets caught, and it isn't one or two pictures, it's 3 terabytes - and I wasn't looking for that much of it. One semi-decent 720p video that isn't compressed and deep-fried to high hell is already a gig or more probably. \n\nSome of it came from a site called LoliVault. Migraine-inducing hot pink text on a black background. Pop-ups begging for money. Flashing gifs of janky manually tweened still-images of you-know-what. Also, the name is misleading, it wasn’t anime girls. I wasn't looking for hentai, obviously, but what if someone else was? It could’ve been a honeypot, or maybe it was real at some point, it was seized, then stayed up just so they could catch people. I have no idea. I’m not an expert.\n\nThe rest was from PLAYHOUSE, which, to me at least, didn’t seem to be a honeypot at all. It was too informal, the descriptions and updates written by someone that seemed genuinely deranged. More obnoxious colors and clashing neon multi-color rainbow text on neon backgrounds. All 360p resolution or less but the sheer amount of content made up for it. No paywalls, no payment options in general, aside from a donation link. Page after page. Neatly organized. Every fetish you could think of.\n\nThey weren't even that young! I wasn't looking at newborns or 3rd graders. Yeah, they were on there, sure, but I didn’t click on any of those ones. I'm not a monster but I'm also no different than anybody else. There's a reason why the Teen category is always at the top of the charts. If 17 was the age of consent, and it was legal to make porn with them, people would watch that instead of “barely legal” (their words, not mine) 18 year olds. If 16 was, people would watch that instead, and on and on and on. The algorithm shoves it down everyone's throats. I know why. You know why. It's male nature and they're just giving the people what they want. \n\nWhat about ‘normal’ porn, huh? Women being trafficked and exploited, raped and slapped and whipped and choked, shemales with basketball-sized tit implants, faggots giving each other AIDs, shitting in each others mouths, pissing on each other in the streets. Fat, ugly, man-hating dykes in leather. Schizophrenics humping stuffed animals in pastel colored diapers, sucking on pacifiers. Why am I the bad guy here? Out of all the other sickos and weirdos indulging in their own equally worse perversions? They’re a-okay and I’m not? And no, I didn't pay for anything, if that wasn’t established already. It's not like I was supporting the industry, especially not with my money. I hit a download button a couple of times and that's enough to imprison me. That's insane.\n\n[i]Well the production hurts kids.[/i] The videos are already out there, right? Is not watching them going to un-hurt the kids? It’s why I don’t understand veganism either. The thing’s dead. You not eating it isn’t going to bring it back to life. You’re just being wasteful in the name of social justice bullshit. Yeah, production of those kinds of porn videos, photos, whatever, should stop. I get that. But the stuff that’s already out there isn’t doing anything, isn’t hurting anybody. Mentally, maybe. But are adults engaging in gross perverse shit not hurting themselves too? \n\nMaybe [i]one[/i] of the videos had a kid under 10. Who cares? Who gives a shit? Does it matter? Maybe it was more than that. Sue me. Kill me. Throw me in jail forever. \n\nI get to rot in jail next to murderers and drug dealers and psychos who, could not, under any circumstances, be released into the general public without instantly raping a woman and throwing her in a river somewhere. But [i]I'm[/i] the issue. Actually, maybe I'll get to go to some cozy “These people are sex offenders and if we released them into the normal part of the prison, they'd get killed – so we can't do that” part of the jail. Lovely, right?\n\nDr. West was chatting with another officer that had wandered in. A wolf. I wasn't listening, it was unrelated to me. I picked at the dirt under my nails (I'm usually very clean). A second officer, a buck, entered and they finally got back to what mattered.\n\n“... Yeah, yeah, no, Danny's takin' him.”\n\n“You sure? Does he know?”\n\n“No but I'm gonna tell him. Right now,” the second officer said before ducking back out of the room.\n\n“You got it all figured out right? 'Cus no one's filled me in on any a' this.”\n\n“Yeah, they got a house ready.” West replied.\n\n“Shit, a house? What, they got him on some kinda house arrest?”\n\n“Yeah.”\n\n“Is it just for a couple a' days or-”\n\n“Probably not. They don't know what to do with him. It'll probably months, honestly.” Dr. West shook her head. “I don't know why he's here. I don't get it at all.”\n\nI sat there, bouncing my leg, fidgeting with my hands, looking back and forth between them. I felt like a kid stuck in the principal's office.\n\n“Damn.”\n\nI'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. I was confused and it felt like they were even more confused than I was. How the hell was that possible? How did nobody know what's going on? Where I was going? Nothing?\n\nHouse arrest didn’t sound too bad though. I assumed I was getting way, way worse than that. Best case scenario, I pay an insane fine and go to into hiding for a little while, worst case was any kind of normal prison. Even if nobody killed me, I didn’t want to waste however many years in a cage, rotting away with lowlifes. I have better things to do.\n\nAn hour later, I was getting hurried out of the police station, GPS tracker strapped to my ankle, papers in hand, hands loosely cuffed in front of me, with that fucking coyote waltzing by my side. Dr. West didn't even say bye. \n\nWhat a bitch.",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "
Nineteen gigabytes.
“Hold on. Internet's slow. It always is in this corner of the building.” She idly twirled her computer mouse, waiting. The printer in the corner of the room jumped into a cacophony of harsh whirring and clicks.
One. Nine. Nineteen. Nineteen gigabytes. A handful of low res videos and photos. That was it. That was all they found. That was all I had.
“Here.” She dropped the thin stack of papers in front of me. “I need you to sign those for me.”
Nineteen gigabytes on my computer that no one should have fucking been looking through in the first place. Okay, well it wasn't my computer. It was the company's. But it was my personal computer at the company. A computer that they shouldn't have been looking through. That they had no right to. I don't remember signing any papers or clicking on any boxes that would digitally sign away my rights when they hired me - unless I missed it. Did I miss that? Was it on some bullshit text box that appeared when I booted up the computer? Did I click a little tiny button on there? A button that said they could go through my shit? I don't think I did.
Okay, well, because it was on my work computer, it was copied onto the cloud storage that any administrator could see. I wasn't aware of that. And, yeah, maybe that's an issue, and maybe someone else would've eventually caught me that way, but still.
She slid a pen across the table to me. I signed all of the lines she had circled without reading any of it. Did any of it even matter? I was already fucked. I pushed the papers back to her.
Dr. Kelly West.
The plaque was old and dusty and one of the corners was chipped off. Nothing in the office had been cleaned in months by the looks of it. The cheap wooden desk in front of me was covered in heat stain rings from coffee mugs. Dead flies littered the window sills underneath cracked, dusty, black-turned-gray sun-bleached blinds. The filing cabinets were rusted. The air was heavy and humid. Stale. The yellow-tinted light above us would flicker every few minutes. It made a low, quiet – but not quiet enough – buzzing noise that was starting to give me a headache.
My name is Dexter Hoffield. I am 28 years old. I am a bat-eared fox, roughly 5’3” (5’2.75” technically but that’s close enough and I’m there if I’m wearing shoes anyway), 120lbs, lean, some muscle but that’s only because there’s little to no fat on me. Big ears. Very big ears. It’s in the name. Otocyon megalotis, or ‘big-ear ear-dog’. They didn’t have to mention the ear thing twice, you got the point across with it once. Mine are a little bigger than average. I’ve thought about getting plastic surgery for them but apparently it’d screw up my body temperature regulation. And hearing, obviously. So I deal with them.
I was a lead software engineer at a tech company called TexTech Inc. for only a handful of months, and now I’m not. There. You’re caught up.
I was too smart; too accomplished, to be sitting in an office this disgusting, in the middle of bumfuck-nowhere Dayton, Ohio. Was Cincinnati too luxurious for me? I didn't deserve it? Fuck off.
I had a penthouse in the Upper West side of New York City. A penthouse. That I paid way, way too much money for. But guess what? It didn't matter! I could afford it. I could've afforded paying double if I fucking had to. Triple, even. I was a millionaire by age twenty (entirely by my own doing), so trust me, I could’ve. (I mean it, my parents were deadbeats. Nobodies. My dad wasn’t some Fortune 500 big shot - he was a cook and my mom worked in a nursing home. Neither went to college. My dad didn’t even finish high school.) But I didn’t do it for the money. I don’t care about tech, I don’t care about societal advancements, I don’t care about coding. I just wanted to prove that I could make it and make other people mad that I did. I wanted to wipe the smug fucking smiles off of those lions and wolves and tigers that had position handed to them just because they were big tough carnivores. I wanted them to think it was a joke, a prank, that some tiny little bug-eating big-eared fox was in charge. I wanted that. But it doesn’t matter now though, does it?
I suffered through hell. Hell. Wasted all of highschool on a 4.0 GPA, a perfect ACT score, and a 1560 SAT score. Top of my class. Missed all social events, missed prom, zero friends, zero memories. Accepted into a prestigious university full of nepo babies and rich kids. Top of my class, again. Hell for 8 fucking years slaving away, studying and studying, shaking the hands of greasy slime-ball nerds that wore blazers over clearance bin graphic t-shirts, who couldn't even look me in the eye, sending email after email, learning how to smile and grit my teeth every time I was forced to socialize with senile, tech-illiterate CEOs, networking and crawling my way to up to the top. And for what? This? This was what I got? For all of my hard work? All of my suffering? Funny. It's funny. I'm laughing. It's really funny. Funniest fucking thing in the world.
I was all over the news within 24 hours. My face was plastered on every social media site. My mugshot wasn't too flattering either. One of the cops tripped me during the walk to the squad car and I smashed my face into the curb. Broke one of the lenses in my glasses. My nose was bleeding.
Journalists were cumming in their pants because TexTech had as perfect as a public image as you could have leading up to this. Squeaky clean, progressive, very promising tech startup that stockholders and the average consumer were loving equally. New social media sites, new apps, a new search engine that everyone and their mother were using, phones, computers, medical equipment, office equipment, everything. They were bulletproof… until I come along.
“TexTech Inc. hires predators?” “CEO Michael Tex responds to cub porn incident” “19GB of cub porn found on TexTech Inc. servers. What this means for the company:” “TexTech shares drop 14% after controversy.”
How did I even get in that position? Well, their last guy smoked some weird hippy drug, got “enlightened” (aka developed schizophrenia), and fucked off into the woods somewhere. They needed somebody damn good, and fast. I was that somebody. The hiring process was extensive and exhausting but I made it through. I wonder if he had one of those gut-feelings of “Something isn't right”. A little voice in his head telling him not to hire me. A warning from God or some other celestial being. I guess not. The company prided themselves on diversity and I guess I was diverse enough.
Michael Tex was a mouse. He knew the kind of shit that smaller animals went through. He knew what scavenger animals went through too. I'm not one of the “scavenger” breeds of fox – and I'd never use that dirty of a word to describe myself – but I was still a fox. And he liked me, I think. You can never tell if those kind of people are being genuine or not though. Did I feel bad for screwing him over? For screwing his company over?
No. Not really, because he also hired that slimy, ugly, loser, piece of shit intern who was sticking his nose where it shouldn't have been and he saw something he shouldn’t have seen. That’s not my fault.
At this point, I hadn't had the time nor phone (they seized it along with all of my other electronics) to watch any clips of his interviews in full. The bits and pieces I managed to see though – that smarmy little rat was stuttering and shaking through every street interrogation and news debate he was thrust into. It looked like he was about to cry in all of them.
One of Dr. West's sharp acrylic nails slammed down on a blank line. “You missed this one.”
I groaned.
Her eyes shot up at me. Her gaze could've burned a hole in my skull. She exhaled, loud, through her nose, nostrils flaring, and tapped the paper again. I signed it.
I knew she wanted to reach across the desk and strangle me. Hurt me in any way she could. Everyone that I had dealt with so far that day did. The cops, the journalists, my coworkers (ex-coworkers), the grotesquely fat women with messy makeup behind every secretary desk of the tens of offices they dragged me through – everybody. I liked that they couldn't touch me. That the big strong men in uniforms could only grip my arms a little too hard. That they couldn't beat me. That they had to sit around and huff and cross their arms and stare daggers through the back of my head. I was a fox, sure, but not a species that the cops could get away with assaulting.
Apparently, at some point, I signed some consent form for some kind of therapy. I don’t know – I didn’t read anything.
"You'll be seeing Dr. Bennett for your counseling. He has an office in Columbus."
"That's like 2 hours away! How am I supposed to-"
"No, it's only one. The house you'll be staying in is right outside of Dayton-"
"So, I’m actually staying here? I’m not leaving?”
"Nobody ever said you were. You’re not in a position to be picky." I huffed and slumped back in the chair, crossing my arms. "He's the closest one that's still accepting patients. Specifically patients of your kind. There's another doctor up in Cleveland if you'd prefer to go to that one."
I sighed. "No. No, that's fine."
"You'll have one on one sessions every other week, but you can attend group therapy instead if you’d like. I don’t know when, and I don’t know where. That’s for Dr. Bennett to talk to you about. You'll come back to this office every other month so I can check your progress and make sure you're following all of the protocols you've been given."
"So...” I shrugged my shoulders. “What? Am I supposed to live this way for the rest of my life?" The doe paused.
"… Frankly, I have no idea. You'll be doing this until we can figure out what else to do with you. But that isn’t my job to worry about. That’s for-"
The door swung open, loudly smacking into the wall behind it. The cork board on the wall shook. A post-it note fell off and fluttered to the ground. It was a coyote, a lieutenant.
"Hey, Kells,” He said. “How's it goin' in here? Need any help yet?"
"I'm in the middle of something, can you please-"
"Oh, gotcha. Gotcha. I’ll be quick. Well, me and Trav are headin' out to that Chinese place across the park. Didja want any-"
"I'm busy," she snapped.
"...Okay, okay…” He paused for about a second then opened his mouth again. “We're just tryin' it out, y'know, 'cus you and Jada went to that one next to the flower shop. Fuckin' hated it. We might as well try somethin' else-”
Dr. West huffed. Loud. But not loud enough apparently.
“Anyways- This one's not givin' ya any trouble, right?" The coyote leaned against the back of my chair and pointed at me. "It's always the foxes, y’know? Always. Every animal that comes through here. It's always a fox. I had to get a gray one for loiterin’ last weekend. That fucker pissed in the back a' my car!" The coyote laughed, smacking me in the shoulder. Hard. I shrugged away. "You gotta be careful with 'em, I swear." He leaned down, his snout inches away from mine.
Coyotes stink. I’m biased, yes, but I really think they smell worse than the average fox.
"I've never seen a fox like big ears over ‘ere. What even are you? Thought ya was a silver fox or somethin' but nah – ya’ look weird. You're not a fennec right? What th' hell are you? You can't be one of the normal kinds, ya’ ain't mangy lookin'. And normal foxes, you can usually smell em' coming from a mile away. I didn't smell you-"
"Danny." Dr. West growled, as best as a doe can, her ears flattening.
"What are those ones called.... Uh..." He snapped his fingers, staring off into space. "Those, like, island foxes. Are you one a' those?"
Before I could open my mouth, he continued on, poking and prodding at me. Rambling. Eventually, Dr. West huffed, jumped up from her seat, and slammed her hands down onto the table. Her coffee mugged jumped, splattering drops onto my forms.
"Jackson!" She shouted.
Danny threw his hands up and took a step back. "Okay, okay. I'm leavin'. You know you gotta loosen up a little. You're always stressed out." He got halfway through the door before he turned back. “I dunno if they have any kinda sweet stuff at the Chinese place but I can check it out, y’know, if it's uh...” He clicked his tongue and raised his brows. “That uh... Time for you… Of the month.”
“Get the fuck out of my office.” She hissed, her facade of professionalism evaporating before my eyes.
“I'm not messin' with you! I'm bein' nice! Come on, I’m a dog, you think I can’t smell-” Dr. West looked like she was ready to start screaming. He cut himself off, lifted his hands up, averted his gaze, sighed, and stepped out. His voice was still loud as he talked to whoever was in the hallway, even behind the closed door. I seized my opportunity once she sat down and got settled again.
“... Is that why you're being so rude to me?” I prodded, barely hiding the smile tugging at my muzzle. She ignored my comment and started typing something up on her computer. Maybe a complaint to HR. I haven’t been in many police departments but this was the least professional by far. She typed for about twenty minutes straight while I stared off into space.
So, how did I get here?
Yes, I got caught with some stuff I shouldn't have. I got arrested. But that's not what I mean. How did I get here?
I don't know.
I really don't know. I think I was bored. As half-assed as an excuse that is, I don't have another. I know the usual culprits; someone gets molested as a kid – they do it to someone else when they grow up. But that didn't happen to me. My parents, while distant, never allowed for that to happen. Abuse? No, I never got abused in any other way. Physically, no. Emotionally, no. Whatever other kinds of abuse exist – no. Some cocktail of mental illness and hypersexuality? Also no. Probably. I never had that much of a libido to begin with. At the time of my arrest I had a whopping body count of two. A real Romeo, I know. I had sex once while I was in school, with a girl that felt bad for me. I wasn't seeking out sex and I hadn't sought out her. It just sorta happened. It was awkward and messy and strange. I lost my already weak erection mere minutes in, so I panicked and pretended to finish. She didn't.
She was expecting some kind of love story, I guess. To fix me. The trope of a mysterious, bitter loner ends up being a soft-hearted bad boy, a hopeless romantic, a clingy but not too clingy lover, after shown some kind of affection, and/or by taking his virginity. I wasn't an incel. I wasn't desperate to lose my virginity. I just didn't care. And if she thought that sticking my dick in some slightly-below-average-looking fennec fox was going to change that – she was very, very wrong.
She was too skinny. Ribs jutted out too far. It felt like I was fucking a shopping cart. Her fur was rough. I didn't know her body count – or how real vaginas were even supposed to feel – but she felt loose to me. Surprisingly loose, and it's not like my size is anything to brag about. Her teeth – the larger fangs, specifically – were a little crooked. Not horrifically so but if she wasn't working on fixing it, she should've started. Her nipples were puffy and inverted, areolas too big and too bumpy considering how small her chest was. Felt like I was trying to read braille when I touched them. It was off-putting. They didn't bounce.
I complained about her perfume a couple minutes after faking a grunt and rolling over. It was some sickly sweet artificial vanilla scent. It clung to the mane of fur around my neck. Fennec foxes don't carry that same harsh musk most fox species do, or at least not to the same extent, but sweet perfumes still don't mesh well with it. I wear a mix of sandalwood and cardamom. She got up, she got dressed, and she left without a word. She stopped pursuing me after that.
I'm not much of a looker myself but, regardless, I'm allowed to complain. Women aren't worth it. They never were. Younger females are annoying and narcissistic, especially college-aged, and I've never met an older woman that hadn't sucked the soul out of her husband. Why would I want that? I could do better than settling down and accepting decades of misery. I deserve better. I know I do.
The second time was with a prostitute. Classy, I know. I wanted to celebrate graduating and without any real friends, or a normal girlfriend, or family members that gave a shit about me (without money being involved), I found some escort service. I don’t like the word “escort” - they’re hookers. Dirty diseased-ridden whores. I get it’s a legal thing, I’m not dumb, but the type of prostitute that says “sex work” as if it’s actually work deserves to catch something lethal.
My hooker was a raccoon and she knew what she was. Nothing fancy or formal about any of it. She was big. Not fat really, just very very curvy. Thick. Massive tits, ass, hips, thighs, and a weirdly big clit. I’m not attracted to that kinda thing but her enthusiasm made up for it. She went at me for hours straight, only taking breaks when I needed one. I tipped her $500.
In the morning, I panicked and broke down and spent the next month getting tested for STDs. I didn’t catch anything.
Anyways, I wouldn't call myself a pedophile.
I'm not. It's more of a wrong place, wrong time kinda thing. Got swept up in some weird stuff. That's it. I'm not the withered, model train-collecting, strange-smelling, never-married 80 year old freak that all the neighborhood kids know not to talk to because of “That thing that he did to that one boy in the 70s” - I'm not. I'm normal. I'm as normal as anyone can be nowadays.
It wasn't even that much for fuck's sake. I mean how do you even download less than 19 gigabytes? If someone gets caught, and it isn't one or two pictures, it's 3 terabytes - and I wasn't looking for that much of it. One semi-decent 720p video that isn't compressed and deep-fried to high hell is already a gig or more probably.
Some of it came from a site called LoliVault. Migraine-inducing hot pink text on a black background. Pop-ups begging for money. Flashing gifs of janky manually tweened still-images of you-know-what. Also, the name is misleading, it wasn’t anime girls. I wasn't looking for hentai, obviously, but what if someone else was? It could’ve been a honeypot, or maybe it was real at some point, it was seized, then stayed up just so they could catch people. I have no idea. I’m not an expert.
The rest was from PLAYHOUSE, which, to me at least, didn’t seem to be a honeypot at all. It was too informal, the descriptions and updates written by someone that seemed genuinely deranged. More obnoxious colors and clashing neon multi-color rainbow text on neon backgrounds. All 360p resolution or less but the sheer amount of content made up for it. No paywalls, no payment options in general, aside from a donation link. Page after page. Neatly organized. Every fetish you could think of.
They weren't even that young! I wasn't looking at newborns or 3rd graders. Yeah, they were on there, sure, but I didn’t click on any of those ones. I'm not a monster but I'm also no different than anybody else. There's a reason why the Teen category is always at the top of the charts. If 17 was the age of consent, and it was legal to make porn with them, people would watch that instead of “barely legal” (their words, not mine) 18 year olds. If 16 was, people would watch that instead, and on and on and on. The algorithm shoves it down everyone's throats. I know why. You know why. It's male nature and they're just giving the people what they want.
What about ‘normal’ porn, huh? Women being trafficked and exploited, raped and slapped and whipped and choked, shemales with basketball-sized tit implants, faggots giving each other AIDs, shitting in each others mouths, pissing on each other in the streets. Fat, ugly, man-hating dykes in leather. Schizophrenics humping stuffed animals in pastel colored diapers, sucking on pacifiers. Why am I the bad guy here? Out of all the other sickos and weirdos indulging in their own equally worse perversions? They’re a-okay and I’m not? And no, I didn't pay for anything, if that wasn’t established already. It's not like I was supporting the industry, especially not with my money. I hit a download button a couple of times and that's enough to imprison me. That's insane.
Well the production hurts kids. The videos are already out there, right? Is not watching them going to un-hurt the kids? It’s why I don’t understand veganism either. The thing’s dead. You not eating it isn’t going to bring it back to life. You’re just being wasteful in the name of social justice bullshit. Yeah, production of those kinds of porn videos, photos, whatever, should stop. I get that. But the stuff that’s already out there isn’t doing anything, isn’t hurting anybody. Mentally, maybe. But are adults engaging in gross perverse shit not hurting themselves too?
Maybe one of the videos had a kid under 10. Who cares? Who gives a shit? Does it matter? Maybe it was more than that. Sue me. Kill me. Throw me in jail forever.
I get to rot in jail next to murderers and drug dealers and psychos who, could not, under any circumstances, be released into the general public without instantly raping a woman and throwing her in a river somewhere. But I'm the issue. Actually, maybe I'll get to go to some cozy “These people are sex offenders and if we released them into the normal part of the prison, they'd get killed – so we can't do that” part of the jail. Lovely, right?
Dr. West was chatting with another officer that had wandered in. A wolf. I wasn't listening, it was unrelated to me. I picked at the dirt under my nails (I'm usually very clean). A second officer, a buck, entered and they finally got back to what mattered.
“... Yeah, yeah, no, Danny's takin' him.”
“You sure? Does he know?”
“No but I'm gonna tell him. Right now,” the second officer said before ducking back out of the room.
“You got it all figured out right? 'Cus no one's filled me in on any a' this.”
“Yeah, they got a house ready.” West replied.
“Shit, a house? What, they got him on some kinda house arrest?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it just for a couple a' days or-”
“Probably not. They don't know what to do with him. It'll probably months, honestly.” Dr. West shook her head. “I don't know why he's here. I don't get it at all.”
I sat there, bouncing my leg, fidgeting with my hands, looking back and forth between them. I felt like a kid stuck in the principal's office.
“Damn.”
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. I was confused and it felt like they were even more confused than I was. How the hell was that possible? How did nobody know what's going on? Where I was going? Nothing?
House arrest didn’t sound too bad though. I assumed I was getting way, way worse than that. Best case scenario, I pay an insane fine and go to into hiding for a little while, worst case was any kind of normal prison. Even if nobody killed me, I didn’t want to waste however many years in a cage, rotting away with lowlifes. I have better things to do.
An hour later, I was getting hurried out of the police station, GPS tracker strapped to my ankle, papers in hand, hands loosely cuffed in front of me, with that fucking coyote waltzing by my side. Dr. West didn't even say bye.