\n\t\t\t\t\tZawmg who did a beautiful done not just with Pat, but all six of us.Also glad to be joined once again by my good friend
\n\t\t\t\t\tnyapolitan’s sexy nudist otter Caleb. Big thanks to him, as well as \n\t\t\t\t\twellifimust and \r\n\t\t\t\t\t| \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t | \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tGlimmyGlam\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t | \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
Also, shout out to the other participants of YCH:
\n\t\t\t\t\tMouseboyScientist, \n\t\t\t\t\tdrnyle, \n\t\t\t\t\tjakuzzi, and \n\t\t\t\t\tDraggyRune.-----
Losing Streak
Flying by himself turned out to be less stressful than Pat expected. He checked his bags, found his gate, got on the plane, and four hours later, he touched down at Miami International Airport. Still, it would have been nicer if Perci could’ve come along.
No matter. Dwelling on the shouldacouldwoulda’s only distracted the green avian from finding his tote from the luggage belt.
Oh, there it is!
With that out of the way, all that was left was finding his ride. He stepped out into the 80 degree April weather, spotting palm trees in the distance, but no sign of his Caleb. Checking his phone, he scrolled through his messages:
OtterlyNude (13:14:57): Yo, dude!
OtterlyNude (13:15:20): If you ever want to fly down here to visit, I found the perfect place to stay.
OtterlyNude (13:15:49): Nudist friend of mine won the state lotto a while back and bought a beach house with the money.
OtterlyNude (13:16:09): It’s only a five-minute walk away from Haulover Beach.
PervyBird (13:17:33): I’m guessing that’s a nude beach?
OtterlyNude (13:18:59): Only the biggest, most popular nude beach in the States.
OtterlyNude (13:19:37): Anyway, the guy’s house is soooooooo big, that he just lets other nudists crash there whenever, for as long as they want.
PervyBird (13:19:55): Wait, for free?
OtterlyNude (13:20:12): For free, no strings attached.
OtterlyNude (13:20:29): And of course, the house is fully clothing-optional.
PervyBird (13:20:41): Fucking sweet!!!
OtterlyNude (13:21:04): Yeah, way better than our rinky-dink apartment in Rosalind.
OtterlyNude (13:21:25): I’ll give you his contacts if you wanna make plans.
Scrolling further down, the last message from the otter said he was on his way and would be there in twenty… sent twenty minutes ago.
“Any minute now,” he sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow.
While the hoodie and jeans were perfect for the 50 degree weather back in New York, the southern heat cooked the bird into a mess of collar-tugging and impatient fidgeting. Five sweaty minutes later, a scruffy-looking otter pedaled up to him on a bicycle.
“Sup, Pat?”
The rudderbutt’s swimsuit gave the bird pause until he also noticed the naturist pin on his signature blue beanie.
“Caleb?”
“That’s what my birth certificate says.”
“Almost didn’t recognize you with pants on.”
“Heh, you’re not the first to say that, but yeah. Unfortunately, law’s definition of ‘decency’ trumps mine. Hence, the shorts.”
“Where’s your car?”
“Don’t need one. Public transport gets me where I need to go, and if it doesn’t, I got wheels,” he punctuated with a ring of the bell. “Hop on!”
Pat tilted his head, checking the bike, “Eh… where exactly?”
“You never piggybacked on a bike before?”
He shook his head.
“See these bars?” he motioned to the pegs extending from the rear wheel. “Just stand on them, hold onto my shoulders and you’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, Traci and I do this all the time.”
“Well, if you say so,” the conure resigned, securing his tote over his shoulder and stepping on. “I’m not going to be too heavy, am I?”
“Nah, nobody at the house is going to judge you for your weight.” Caleb answered, pushing off into the Florida traffic.
“That’s not whAT I MEEEAAAANNT!” Pat corrected too late, as the acceleration almost swept him off his perch.
The unsteady avian instantly leaned forward and hugged the otter for dear life. The sensation of Caleb’s smooth fluff against his neck and arms would’ve felt sublime were they not juxtaposed with the gales of cars rushing by.
-----
Fortunately, as the ride progressed, the roads got less crowded, allowing the avian’s heart rate to return to baseline before they reached their destination.
“And here we are: Casa Desnuda!”
It was a beach house right out of the movies: two-story house with an all-white, art deco style, palm trees in the front, and judging from the distant scent of chlorine, a gigantic pool in the back.
“Holy… A normal person would’ve had to work for three lifetimes to afford a place like this!”
“Right? And you get to stay here for free.”
As the two parked the bike and walked up to the entrance, as if on cue, the door swung open to reveal a robed red panda with green hair.
“Caleb! Good to see you, amigo!” he cheered. “And you must be Pah-tree-gay!”
“Pah-treeg, actually,” the parrot corrected. “But just Pat is fine, too.”
“Ah, my B. Still, glad you could make it. Come on, get inside and get naked.”
Both of them did as instructed, Pat immediately feeling the relief as he peeled his hoodie off. As he undressed, he gazed at the luxurious interior. The walls were covered with abstract art he didn’t recognize, the furniture was all minimalist design, and a chandelier hung from the ceiling. Everything was so new and shiny that he almost did notice the homeowner shucking his robe as well, revealing that he was wearing something underneath, to both guests' surprise.
“Is that a…” Caleb inquired.
“Oh yeah, my new cage. Check it out,” he bragged, thrusting his hips out to display his chastity device. “It’s custom, too. Turns out there’s a kink shop in Midtown where they make them. They measure your cock and everything.”
“Huh,” the bird replied, “it’s… shiny.”
“Right!? The guys fuckin’ love it, too. Especially a certain derg that I wouldn’t mind getting slain by, if you know what I mean,” he punctuated with a smack of his rump. “Oh, speaking of thirst, either of you want a drink by the way? Beer? Wine? Cocktail?”
“I don’t drink,” the otter answered.
“Water’s fine.”
“Yeah, same.”
He rolled his eyes, “Your funeral. Be right back.”
The caged nudist stepped out, presumably to get their drinks.
“Was he always this… hedonistic?”
Caleb shrugged, “Everyone's a little like that in Miami. Though, that is the first time I saw him wearing something like that.”
“He didn’t wear it when you hung out with him?”
“Hell no, he’d have probably gotten kicked off the beach for wearing that.”
“I mean, nothing wrong with it being his thing, but… of all the things to splurge on with your lotto money.”
“Well, you know the saying,” the mustelid concluded, eyes gazing upwards to the unnecessary chandelier hanging from the ceiling. “Money changes people.”
Seconds later, the panda returned with two bottles of water, “Sorry about the wait! All the water is in the basement fridge.”
“No worries,” both guests shrugged it off.
“Anyway, let me introduce you to the others. They got the consoles set up in the den.”
“Hold on, where should we put our stuff?” Pat hefted his tote and bunched-up garments.
“Eh, just leave ‘em for now. We can deal with ‘em later.”
With a shrug, he plopped his bag on the ground and sloppily folded up his outfit before dropping it atop the bag. Following their semi-gracious host, a chorus of aggressive voices began to crescendo.
“I’m coming for that stupid bow tie, cheater!”
“Maybe if you didn’t have such a basic fashion sense, you wouldn’t be at such a disadvantage.”
“Oh, says the mouse that wanted to play with items off!”
“I suggested it for variety. It wouldn’t be fun if I clobbered you both every single time.”
It wasn’t long before they reached the source of the smack-talk: a trio of bottomless individuals surrounding a TV, controllers in hand. At the far end of the couch was a long-haired dragon who sported a sporty tank top. On the opposite side was a bespectacled mouse with a dress shirt and fancy bow tie. And in between them was a transmasc wolf wearing a punk band T-shirt and a bunch of piercings.
“Everyone, this is Pat and Caleb. Pat and Caleb, this is everyone.”
‘Everyone’ responded with a “Hello!”, a “Sup!” and a “How’s it hanging?” without bothering to look up from the screen.
“Yo!” replied the new guests collectively, standing there for several seconds until the avian leaned into the otter’s ear
“Do you know any of them?” he whispered.
He shrugged and shook his head.
Finally, the trio’s match timed out, the winner being the Level 9 CPU they added for shits and giggles.
“Inconceivable!” “The fuck, man!” “Uuuuuuugh! Really!?”
“Okay, I think we played enough of this game for today,” the wolf suggested.
“Wait, what about the new guys? Give them a shot.” countered the dragon.
“Well, considering their attire, one could propose that they’ve already lost,” philosophized the mouse.
“It’s fine,” the parrot waved the debate away. “I’m not good at fighting games anyway.”
Caleb chimed in, “What other games we got?”
The wolf checked the shelves.
“Eh, a lotta war shooters. What about those? You good at shooters, Caleb?” he said to the parrot.
“Actually, I’m Caleb. He’s Pat” the otter chimed in, motioning to himself then his friend. “And feel free to call me picky, but I don’t really care for games that glorify militaristic violence.”
“I’m… even worse at shooters,” the avian added.
“Pity. Let’s see what else,” he dove back in. “No racing games here. What about another fighting game, do they count as glorifying military shit or whatever?”
“I’ve nothing against them.”
“What about you, birdy?”
“Pat,” he corrected. “And I’ll give it a shot. Just don’t expect me to be any good.”
“Sweet, it’s decided!”
-----
There was an initial disappointment when the gamers discovered the versus mode only had a two-player maximum. However, the host then suggested a bracket, with each person playing 1v1 against every player once, and whoever had the best win/loss ratio would receive a prize that was to be determined.
The guests responded with a collective “Fuck yeah!”
First up was Pat and the dragon, who immediately took a considerable chunk out of his health bar.
“What the… how are you doing so much damage?”
“You gotta use combos. Haven’t you played fighting games before?
The ill-prepared parrot eventually figured out a few tricks with his character, but it was already too late. The dragon mopped the floor with him with ninety percent of his health bar intact.
“Jeez, I know you said you were bad, but come on,” the dragon rubbed it in.
The tournament continued, as did the smacktalk…
“Dude, you picked the slowest character!”
“Then the slow character just fucked half your health bar.”
And while Caleb could brush off any harsh words with mastery of the controller…
“Good game.”
“Good game, my ass! How the fuck did I not get a single hit on you?”
Pat wasn’t so lucky.
“Bloody hell, Matt. You are in dire need of getting good.”
“For the hundredth time, my name is Pat!”
By his third consecutive loss, he announced he was ready to forfeit the bracket. However, the gang were adamant that he “don’t pussy out now” and play until the end. The next round, the two friends got to play against each other. Caleb was metaphorically shooting nothing but net, while the only thing shot about Pat was his nerves. Try as he might, the avian couldn’t land a finger on the mustelid prodigy.
“K.O!” shouted the television.
Caleb: 5-0
Patrigue: 0-4
“Haha! Damn dude, that’s five in a row!”
“Good game, Pat.”
Pat growled, too deep in his head to form words.
Caleb tilted his head, “Are you o-“
“And the winner of the first ever Clothing-Optional Tournament Bracket is…” the host abruptly announced. “CALEB CASANUTRIA!!!”
Claps and cheers erupted around the otter as he watched Pat slink away, head hung low, the others oblivious to his departure.
“Tell us what he’s won!” the wolf directed in a faux game show announcer voice.
“Oh shit, yeah. Never thought up a prize, did we?” he realized. “Anyone got cash on them?”
“Dude, we don’t even have pockets for cash.”
“Well then I’m outta ideas.”
“I got one,” the dragon piped, “How about he gets a blowjob from the person with the lowest score?”
“Eyy! How’s that sound, Caleb? Ready for some action?”
“Huh?” Caleb snapped back to the room. “Hold on, I’m gonna check on Pat.”
“Oh yeah, that’s fair,” the host agreed. “Pat and I are tied 0-4. So we gotta duke it out to figure out who…”
The panda’s voice trailed off as Caleb went looking for his friend. The search for the bright green conure didn’t last long, as Caleb heard his heavy breath once left the cacophony of the den. He found him sitting by the front door by his clothes, his large hoodie unfolded across his lap.
“Hey,” he called out. “You don’t look too good.”
No response.
“If this is about the game, I didn’t mean to go so hard on-“
“Nono… s’not that,” he interrupted.
Caleb got down and crawled up next to him, “Mind telling me what’s wrong?”
“I just…” he faltered between breaths, “I’m far away from home… and it feels… like I’m back in middle school… and the thought of going back in there… with all the shit-talking is just… fucking pins and needles on my fucking soul.”
He punctuated those past words punching the floor with each swear.
“Woah woah woah woah woah!” Caleb stepped in, placing a hand over his heart, “Stay with me, buddy. Nothing to beat yourself up over. Just stay with me.”
Pat could’ve sworn that magic was flowing from the otter’s fingertips into his body, as the eternal fuzz of his beating chest and self-loathing began to fade. Breathe in breathe out. He closed his eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. He put his hand over his friend’s. Breathe in… breathe out. He opened his eyes, back to reality.
“I think I’m good now,” he assured. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. Honestly, I wasn’t really digging their vibe either.”
“Whaaaaat? You were chill as hell in there.”
“I grew up playing online games. I’m used to it.”
“Guess I’m just not used to all this…” he searched for the phrase, “uber frat energy. I don’t know if I can last a whole week here.”
“Actually, give me a second. I have an idea,” he declared.
He reached out for his swim trunks on the floor and fished his phone out of them. Pat watched as he opened up his SMS, typed out a message, and hit send.
“Now we wait.”
“What did you do?”
“I asked Traci if she was okay with you staying with us.”
The bird’s beak hung open before he exclaimed, “Really? You’d do that for me? I mean, I don’t want to impose.”
“Dude, it’ll be perfect. We can still visit Haulover Beach whenever we want. Just you, me, and Traci. No smack-talk, no peer pressure, just vibes.”
“What about the others?” he asked motioning to the den. “What will they say?”
“Who cares? Not like you’ll be rooming with them.”
“…Fair.”
**DING**
Caleb checked his phone, “Oop, looks like Traci’s on board. Wanna head home?”
“Sure, but what are we going to tell them?”
“Get dressed. Just leave it to me,” he answered, heading back to the den.
The avian did what he was told as he waited for his friend to return. Also made sure he didn’t forget the essentials: wallet, phone, keys, glasses, and boarding pass. The otter returned just as he zipped the fly of his jeans, sporting quite the erection.
“Woah. What got you riled up?”
“Well, I think they got bored waiting for us to come back and said ‘Fuck it!’…literally.”
“As in…” he pistoned two of his fingers into his fist.
“Yep.”
“Really? All four of them?”
“Miami,” shrugged Caleb before he reached again for his swim pants.
“So, what did you tell them?”
“The truth,” he said as he slipped them back on. You were a bit overwhelmed, and I’m taking you home with me. Honestly, they were a bit preoccupied with… you know, each other? But I made sure to get the point across.”
“Well, I hope they have fun. Shall we?” He nodded towards the door.
“Let’s go.”
-----
Caleb flew through the streets of Miami-Dade county on his bike as Patrigue hugged him from behind. Wind resistance lashed at them and traffic seldom let up, but it seemed to prove less bothersome the second time around. His eyes were closed and the side of his head rested comfortably, nestled against the fur of Caleb’s upper back. The sides of his beak curled up. Despite the wind, his arms felt warm against Caleb’s chest, no longer holding on for dear life. However, that’s not to say he wasn’t holding on to something dear.