Part One: What I’ve Gone Through, What I Go Through

He cried out through the dense and stifling air, thick with cigarette smoke and the stench of bodily fluids. The noise didn’t make it very far through the haze and miasma; a few feet into the haze before it was swallowed by the calls and cries of others and the moans and sighs of their masters. It was hell, if there even was such a place, an evil warehouse where the pain and misery never stopped, or at least until the masters were finally fulfilled, but that never seemed to happen here.
He held on for dear life, paws clutching the edge of the table while amused voices called out from all directions. The lights were hot on his back, burning, searing into his fur and quills like fire. The only thing that burned worse than the rays of the spotlights or the sting of a cigar burn was the molten hot lash of cum as it splashed across his face or filled his insides, burning his innards with a painful pulse. 
He didn’t dare open his eyes, he didn’t want to see ‘him’; the male who he had trusted, obeyed, worshiped. He didn’t want to watch as he spilled his white-hot seed into the bowels of another boy. He couldn’t bring himself to witness it for the tenth, twentieth, thirtieth time. He had had enough, but apparently, the adults around him hadn’t, they always wanted more, and more. They acted nice, said nice things, pretended to care, until they thrust up into you, always going another inch further then the last; a bit faster, a bit rougher, until you were crying, sobbing for your mommy or your daddy, and in some horrible cases, it was your own father doing it to you.
He had seen another boy, a panther, being dominated by a larger copy; his father. His cum coated fur; soaked with traces of orgasm from other males who had had their way with the boy before his own father finished him off. It was horrid. He could hear the cries, the moans, the boys begging for more; more cock, more cum, and the adults complied, double stuffing the poor panther cub until he was out of breath and out of his mind.
The young porcupine still had his mind, he knew for sure, because he was me; a sacred little nine year old who wanted nothing more than to be in his own bed, to be as far away from the monster who had brought him here. I took a chance and opened my eyes; I shouldn’t have. I found him immediately; grinning wildly, cigar in his teeth, head back in pleasure as a little shepherd boy blew him. The tears no longer burned, if anything I was glad they were there. My vision blurred; the scene of countless fathers, uncles, school teachers, lawyers, and police furs fucking their sons, nephews, neighbors, students, and rescue victims. It was sickening, I was old enough to know; been around enough ‘normal’ adults to know what was right and what was wrong. The only problem was I had a mouth full of dick and a cock up my ass so I couldn’t do anything but comply against my will.
I whimpered and shivered, my own little prick underneath me pressing into the table I was sprawled over, begging for its own release that I knew would never come until I was alone in my own bed, crying and moaning my own noises of pleasure. At this point I didn’t even know if I was going to live, I had seen the news, knew what happened to little boys who fall for the ‘I got candy’ trick, but that wasn’t me. My own uncle gained my trust and betrayed it all in one afternoon. Somewhere in the back of my head I knew I was going to die and end up in a dumpster or a muddy ditch. I knew how these things ended.
But I woke up instead, sweaty and shaking; a fourteen year old porcupine, because I had lived, not died. Despite the nightmares, the visions were fresh in my mind; like a movie. The images I had buried deep inside of me and never spoke of had awoken in my dreams and made me relive the worst day of my life again. I didn’t die because my uncle had came up to me, intoxicated and amused after the fifty-fifth fur had fucked and came inside my hole. He stared at my pathetic form as I cowered away, huddled on the table like a cornered fox. He only grinned, picked me up, and threw me over his shoulder. I hated him, hated him so much I shook, but the warm touch was more than I had had all night so I held on to his shoulder, careful not to poke myself in this thicker quills. He had taken me back home, made me shower the cum out of my matted fur and glued quills. He threatened me, told me not to say a word, ever, or else I would be sorry, and left without so much as a ‘goodbye’. I never told a soul. How could I have?
I had awoken the same way the next morning after the incident. Bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat and shaking violently because I thought I was back in that warehouse, with all the bad adults, the dicks and the cum. Only this time, I had only the vivid dream to remind me of every second of it. Every touch, every blow job, every rim job, every cock in my ass and every spurt of hot, disgusting, delicious cum in my mouth. It wall all I could do to just state up, eyes blinking but disbelieving where I actually was.
I stared about my room; unconvinced I was really at home, in my room. My mind told me burning tobacco filled my lungs and seed filled my ass; I actually had to check both. I inhaled and exhaled normally, no smoke, though very suddenly I wanted one. I looked at the empty pack of Marlboros on my dresser before reaching down into my underwear, below my sheath and beneath my sac to touch the spot that had been violated all those years ago; a little sweaty, but cum free and tightly closed. It was a relief for a while, until I heard the phone ring somewhere in the house. I didn’t care, no one ever called me anyways.
I hear my mom pick it up, her shrill and annoying voice screeching out and bouncing off our hollow walls. I ignore her completely and pull the damp sheets off of me. I’m glad I never have wet dreams; otherwise my bed would have been wet with more than just my sweat. I was hard, still in my sheath, but ready to burst out. I sigh heavily as I trudged to the bathroom. I’m so fucking glad I have my own; otherwise I’d have to stalk across the living room to shower. This way when I stepped into the tiled tub, my briefs discarded before my foot-paws met tile, I didn’t even close the door or the shower curtain before I stared the warm water.
Out of habit, I struggle to wash my quills; as if they were glued together again by that white-hot cement I called jizz. It’s all a figment of my insanity, I know, but it makes me feel more sane when I know I’m clean, so I lather my fur in shampoo and let the water do the rest. I draw in the steamy air like a drag of a cigarette, only I know this won’t kill me eventually. 
Once clean, I was only left with one problem. I look between my legs to see my devilish erection, pink and tapered and ready to be abused like I had been five years ago. I take hold of it and instantly that ‘pesky bird’ came into my mind. It had only been four days but the scene in the bathroom played in my mind, the hawk bent over the toilet, begging to be fucked because I had made him ask for it.
I make a fist around the pink flesh and begin to stroke, that familiar feeling of pleasure spreading through my body, sending my quills standing on end. I imagine how good the hawk boy feels on the inside as I force him to do the things I want him to. He’s my bitch, my tool; the little fuck would do anything I say because he knows I would beat him up if he didn’t. I close my eyes and in my mind I’m deep inside him. He cries out and I clamp his beak shut in my bigger paws. All he can do now is take my dick as he hugs the porcelain below him.
“Fuck yeah, Kasai, you know you like my dick because you’re a gay little fag who knows his place.” I pretend to say in my head, my paw working furiously below; my balls still boiling from the nightmare, but I try not to think about that. Instead, I think about how his ass was squeezing my dick because in my head, I was in control, and that’s all that mattered. He can’t do anything, can’t even call for help. “This is what you get for fucking things up for me. If it wasn’t for you, I would have gotten that otter to kiss me. I would have felt good, and he could have gone on with his life. Thanks to you, I fucking got suspended; because of your pitiful sympathy I got in trouble and my mother hates me now. She calls me a fag; she’s a bitch, and I’m not a fucking fag. I don’t like boys, they only like my dick. Kasai, you like my dick don’t you?”
“Yes, I love your dick Dallas,” I make the hawk moan because it’s what he really would say. But it’s not enough for me. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble, you can take it all out on me. You can fuck me until you’re satisfied.”
“Fucking right I will.” I say as my paw brings my dick to explosion. I paint the shower wall with my cum; my eyes are closed, but my shoulder is against the side, cold and wet, but inside I feel warm and good. In my mind I fill the hawk’s ass with my jizz, mating him like a bitch, feeling the rush of dominance surge through me like smack in a junkie’s vein.
I open my eyes to find my paw plastered with white, my spent dick resting on my palm. I look at it, wonder why I like the shape so much, the feel, the taste… I bring my paw to my muzzle, attentively lick at the substance and slump against the wall. I feel heavy, I know I’m big, but it’s not like I’m fat or anything. Well, okay, I have a belly, but I’d punch anyone who said I have tits, because I don’t. I feel slow, I notice a few of my quills have fallen out but I don’t even bother to pick them up. I just let the water wash over me; cleaning my bad thoughts, for now.
When I feel the water start to get cold it’s my cue to get out. I twist the handle and grab the dark blue towel off the wall. When I’m dry and back in my room I walk to my closet mirror naked and stare at myself. Behind the Sharpie colored tagging and the nicotine film, I see a porcupine with a faded green Mohawk, but beneath it, I’m not quite sure what I see. I’m fourteen years old and a part of me is saying that I shouldn’t even be thinking these things. I should have friends, be playing outside, going to school, and learning. Not fantasizing about boys and smoking cigarettes, cursing at my mom and getting suspended from school.
“Fuck it.” I say with a cold glare. I know who I am, and that’s all the matters. I’m not going to pretend to be something I’m not. This is who I am, fuck anyone who thinks differently. I take a moment and glance around my messy room. Clothes littered the floor, months of unwashed shirts and underwear. I’m only lucky I have enough clothes to last months, though I knew I’d be out soon. But gods knew I wouldn’t be doing any laundry any time soon, maybe I can get my father to do it for me. He’s usually quick to ‘beacon my call’.
I walk around my unmade bed and pull open my dresser to find a single pair of underwear, another pair of briefs. I usually never wore the stupid things, they were for kids and queers, I wore boxers like a man, but it was all I had left, so I put my legs through each hole and pulled them up past my flaccid sheath and up to my waist. I couldn’t help but stare at myself in the mirror before finding a shirt; my last clean one, an old faded Misfits shirt with the skull logo on the front. With a dirty pair of paints pulled up and buttoned below my stupid protruding belly I grabbed my leather jacket and was dressed, only now, I didn’t know what would happen when I left the sanctuary of my room. It’s been nearly a week since I horded myself inside my room, leaving only to scavenge for food at night. I prayed my mom would be in nowhere near.
I paused, paw on the lock, feeling my heart beating in my chest. I couldn’t hear her anymore, and I knew my father was at work; passive fuck, he knew all about the shit five years ago and never once asked me about it. I never told him either, his own brother had told him; my uncle. I remember overhearing them talking about it once. Words came from my father like; ‘you shouldn’t have’, or ‘he’s my son’. There was no life in those words. I figured if he cared enough, he’d say something more, but he never did. I didn’t care about him anyways, some father he was, only good enough to do my laundry. And my mother; what mother? I was only fourteen, but if she laid a paw on me I had the child abuse hotline number in my back pocket. I was in the clear; there wasn’t anything she could do.
So into the fire I went…
“Where do you think you’re going?” She spat as soon as I took four steps out into the dining room. She stood there like a sentinel, her quills stuck up, eyes narrowed to slits, the phone still in her paws. Her typical sun dress, this one yellow, didn’t make her any less threatening. 
“To the school.” I reply trying not to back talk or sound smart in an attempt to leave with as little hostility as possible. It didn’t work.
“Don’t you remember that you’re grounded?” She said with more venom then the last sentence. I tried not to look at her, but I noticed her dress flare around her frame as if by some sort of maniacal energy. It’s harder than you think, having to stand there, while you’re being yelled at, you want to look away, no matter how much bull crap she’s spitting out, but I find myself just barely making eye contact. I just wanted to get away, my mind was trying to remind me of all the good times I had had with her growing up, the parks, the baseball games, board games and puzzles, church, now all I can see is her judging stare and cutting words. “You’re lucky I don’t call the police on you myself. To think of the harm you might have caused that poor boy.”
“I didn’t hurt him.” I say finding my voice. Even though I was still going through puberty my voice had gotten deeper when I turned thirteen, and I found that it had been a useful tool against anyone who was against me, even my mother.
“Not physically perhaps,” She said shaking her thick neck and waving a fat finger towards me. “But mentally and spiritually. You’ve opened him up to Satan. It’s bad enough that I have to watch him take my own son, but to watch him work through my boy to bring down another innocent soul. Markel should never have moved to Wyoming. If he were still around, you would still be going to church, not listing to this puck rock music and kissing boys.”
My insides burned as she mentioned that name; the name of true evil. If I really was Satan’s lap dog, then he must be the prince of fucking darkness. I smelled cigar then, in the back of my mind, the reek of cubby sweat, of cum, piss, and cocks. The very name of my uncle brought fourth everything I had shoved back down in the shower. I would have bolted for the front door then if my huge mother wasn’t blocking my path. I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to use her quills in a love poke, or in this case; a holy saving stab. Instead, I frowned at her and tried to think of something truly hurtful to say.
“Then I guess I’ll spend eternity sucking dick in hell.” I growl and turn, pulling my leather jacket closer around my body. I hear her sucking in air as I walk by, trying to retaliate, but I knew I struck a nerve, and she would have to stand there as I walked out the front door, leaving her to think about her words and thoughts as she prayed to a god who hated her son.
It was mean, I know, but she deserved it. My legs felt weak and my arms were shacking, but by the time I got down the street I was already feeling better if not more alive. Her words were worse than mine anyways; sure mine had a lot of venom, but hers were serious and purely hateful. 
At first I wasn’t sure where I was heading. I simply walked, my lazy legs caring me further from my home, no, my prison. I wanted to be anywhere else. Sure, all my worldly possessions were there, but if it meant I never had to go back there, I would gladly leave them behind. I was warm but I could barely feel the sun’s rays under my heavy black jacket. I knew I could make it to the school before it got too hot to walk, but I didn’t really mind. The school as my destination just sort of came from that thought. The thought of other kids my age, or close enough anyways, was a welcoming thought. I wanted to be rid of my past, of my family, and my secrets; though one always seemed to fallow me no matter how much distance I put between me and the place I once called home.
I stuffed my paws into my tight black jean pants and slowly made my way up the long stretch of road that would eventually take me to RCMS. Cars rushed by on the street to my left, the drag of warm air from their speeding would send my quills clanking. I ignored it, not minding the cooler air as it reached my backside. The sun was already passed its noon-ish position in the sky. I could tell from the heat that it must be almost one in the afternoon. I always slept late.
I would have stuck out my thumb, but hitch hiking wasn’t really my thing. I knew I was fourteen and I knew there were more furs like my uncle out there. It was one thing giving paw jobs to some of the homeless guys behind the super market or a blowjob to the clerk at the Laundromat, but with a strange fur in a car; anything could happen. I could end up in a ditch somewhere, butt fucked and dead. I didn’t shiver at the thought, not in this heat, but I found a balled up five dollar bill in my pocket and it was enough to push the thoughts out of my head.
I slowly unraveled it in my paw as I neared the shopping center on the corner of a busy intersection, my foot paws slapping against the warm cement. There was a little time before school got out and since I had found free money, probably bullied from one of my many victims at RCMS, I figured I could stop to get something to eat from the market on the way. The shopping center wasn’t very large. On one end you had the grocery store, followed by a few small restaurants; Chinese food, a pizza place, and a solon to get nails done. After that there was the Gold’s Gym; an old pharmacy that was converted over. Whenever I would walk by I’d stare at the muscular furs working out, vaguely visualizing myself in a similar situation. But I knew I didn’t need to be buff to be tough, or eloquent to make poetry. I knew I could wreak a kid if I ever wanted to, and I could do it without washboard abs.
Hearing the music inside though would always get my attention. It was stupid music, but I knew there would be furs working out to it and my eyes would move on their own. Tigers and wolves, foxes and badgers, all lean and fit. I’m thinking of buying a pack of doughnuts and these guys are drinking water and running for hours on treadmills, but it doesn’t stop me from admiring their bodies. I never see any out of shape furs in there and know I would just stick out like a sore paw if I tried to hang out inside. So I pass by and make my way on to the grocery store and the food in my mind.
It’s cool inside and I find my selection quickly. Frosted doughnuts, a Mountain Dew, and a bag of chips for later; all the food groups I ever need. At the register, I even throw in a stick of beef jerky. I watch my items slide across the moving conveyer belt and roll my eyes at the mother and her young son in front of me; they’re raccoons, and foreign by the sounds of their accents. He’s nine or so and she must be in her early thirties. It makes me think of my mother for a moment and all the times I went with her to the grocery. Instead, I angrily push it away and replace it with the thought of fucking the boy against the register as he cried out for his own mother. His shorts are falling down off his waist a bit and I can see his tight white briefs; like mine. I get a hard on but I still end up feeling bad about myself.
I pay for my things and tear the package of doughnuts open with my teeth before I even get out of the door. The heat hits me hard, having lost some of my anger and having nothing to shield my senses from the elements, but I try my best to ignore it. The chocolate melts onto my paw but I lick it off as I try to open the bottle of Mountain Dew; an impossible feat. 
I get the doughnuts down before I reach the gym. Tossing the wrapper on the ground I try and ignore the music again, refraining from taking that glance but my body won’t listen. My head turns; my eyes fall over bodies, bulges, and shirtless male furs. For a second I’m in heaven until I hear my chips crunch in my jacket pocket before I slam into something quite solid.
I stumble back, dazed, realizing I had just bumped into someone. I get mad, my chips are smashed and I feel stupid. However, looking up I suddenly lose my anger as it’s replaced with fear. The furson, no, the giant I seemed to have bumped into was at least twice my size, and not just in height. His arms stuck out of a ‘too small for him’ sleeveless black t-shirt like massive hams in a meat locker. His jean shorts where originally pants that had been cut, and the hi-top Converse on each of his monster foot-paws must have seen many hot summers before this one.
I was so taken aback by this ‘giants’ appearance that I couldn’t even determine what species he was until I took a second, more thorough and frightened look at the fellow. My mind almost wanted to call the guy a bear. The way his rounded ears, pegged with many silver hoops, seemed to sit atop his head like furry puffs had a definite ursine look about them, but the Mohawk like mane under a black militant looking hat told me he was a canine. A hyena actually; a very large, muscular, and somewhat chubby looking hyena, but a hyena nonetheless.
He whirled around much quicker than I would have ever thought possible for someone his size. His dark brown eyes found mine rather quickly and I couldn’t stop my quills from sticking up under my shirt in surprise. My first thought, other than the realization of his species, was that I was ‘dead meat’. I knew how the world worked, even if I was only fourteen. I knew the bigger guys always had the advantage over the smaller, the stronger over the weak. And although I had built up my rank inside the school walls, this guy was years older than me and much larger than me, and undoubtedly stronger. I tried to speak, to mumble something under quivering lips but he seized the opportunity to speak first.
“Don’t worry about it dude, no problems.” He spoke and smiled….actually smiled. I expected a flurry of words, a fist and a black eye and all I got was a smile; It looked odd set upon his large muzzle. He waited for me to say something and when nothing happened, he chuckled and scratched the fur on his head above his left ear that stuck out through his tiny cap. Everything looked tiny in comparison with the rest of him. I wasn’t completely sure what was going through my mind then, it was like a mash up of being terrified and turned on by the guy at the same time. He was my type after all…
I shook my head furiously and forced the thoughts from my head, a guy like me wasn’t supposed to think about guys like him. It wasn’t right, and people didn’t like it, except maybe Kasai, but the guy before me would probably kill me if I said anything about how his muscles made him look good, or how the piercings in his ears turned me on.
“I-I was j-just walking to school and…and…I…” I try and explain myself, still not sure if his words were the truth or a deviant lie.
“Doesn’t the middle school let out in a few minutes?” He asked looking at an expensive looking watch on his wrist. It was nice, silver with gold numbers and hands, it looked out of place on a hyena who seemed ready to go to a show and mosh. When I didn’t reply again he noticed me staring at the watch and smiled again. “Nice huh, my boyfriend gave it to me for Christmas, its gaudy but I still wear it out of love I guess.”
I was too busy trying to think up an excuse, a plea for forgiviness, or to just make a run for it. I didn’t hear what he actually said at first. I just nodded and spouted out another round of nonsense before I made sense of what he actually said.
“Boyfriend?” I ask, one hundred percent sure that I had heard him wrong.
“He looks kinda like me, but he’s a Kodiak,” He said holding out his arms to accentuate the size of a Kodiak bear. I laughed dryly like it was supposed to be a joke that I didn’t understand. It seemed to be enough for him because he shot off another one of his grins that I never would have expected on such a menacing looking guy. “Brought him home for dinner a few months back, added another thing to the list of things my parents don’t approve of, but they still love me so they had to get over it. No one’s married outside our species before so I really stirred things up.”
I still wanted to run but I was officially dumbfounded. 
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask finding what was left of my courage. I thought this guy was going to beat me up for running into him, but it turned out he was a fag and liked to tell people about his fag boyfriend.
“I see you around sometimes.” The hyena spoke as he placed his paws casually into his pants pocket. I was getting so many different vibes from him; an air of toughness, a bit of smarts, a rebellious side, and another citizen of the lame city I lived in. It was confusing to say the least, not to mention the fact that he confessed so freely to being gay. “You’re always looking in through the gym doors, sneaking peaks at the members. My name is Ryan by the way.”
My face burned scarlet then. My eyes shot to the ground in embarrassment and instantly I wished I could be anywhere but here. My family was one thing; I could deal with them. They made no impact on my social life because they didn’t seem to care anymore. I haven’t even gotten a ride home from school in about three years. They just leave me to fend for myself. This guy however, was on the outside, a part of the populous and even though I didn’t know him, someone might, and somehow someone might find out about my secrets. It was always a possibility and always a reason why I was constantly marking my tracks.
He must have noticed my flush of color because he chuckled to himself and crossed his arms, his two paws resting on his massive biceps.
“What, Embarrassed? Then maybe you shouldn’t be such a dead giveaway.” Ryan said jokingly but I took it like a steak through the heart. “I know a gay little punker when I see one. Nice hawk by the way.”
Dare I say ‘fuck you’? I was at a loss of words. He wasn’t being an asshole about it. He seemed to just be stating the facts. ‘Fuck, but I’m not gay. I can’t be.’ He was right though, about me looking through the doors to see the athletic, shirtless, guys…
“I’m not…” I tried to say despite his complement and the sudden unpleasant thought of Kasai. Maybe I went red in the face, I’m not sure but it didn’t stop him from continuing his rhetoric. 
“Of course you are dude.” He said and took a step towards me and placed a paw on my shoulder. I looked up at him, still not sure why this guy was being so…nice. “And don’t feel bad about it. My boyfriend works for an institute for adolescent kids with all sorts of problems, family issues, identity awareness counseling, homeless teens, all sorts, maybe you should stop by one day, I have a card you can take.”
“Only because I might be homeless soon…” I mumble under my breath. I didn’t mean for him to hear me but he obviously took it upon himself to school me some more.
“If you’re having problems with your family it’s best to try and work it out before something like that results from the problem.” He spoke. Who was this guy? Did he think he was some kind of savior just because he was being nasty with some dude? “Try talking to them.”
“My mom thinks Satan has me.” I grumble and I feel his paw leave my shoulder. For a split second I almost wish for it back. It made me think of last week when Kasai had placed his gay boy wing on my shoulder and for some reason I wish I hadn’t pushed him from me, stalked off only to be caught by security after that otter boy had ratted on me. But what would I have done, stood there and confessed to the hawk that I thought about him almost every day, that he was the one furson who seemed to get me, the one boy in the school who didn’t cry like a bitch when I tried to take advantage of them sexually.
“Got parents like that huh?” He asked and I look up to see a genuinely sympathetic face, it made me angry on the inside but I didn’t let it show. I hate sympathy; it’s a wasted effort, because pity never did any good for no one, especially me.
“My mom is a religious nut,” I say not quite sure why I was even sharing this with some guy I just met. But I noticed that deep down it almost felt good to let it out. “My dad just doesn’t give a fuck. He just does what others tell him to do. He’s a follower.”
“I’m sorry man, here.” Ryan grunted while he dug his wallet out of his back pocket. He shifted through a few credit cards and the thought of stealing one crossed my mind before he came upon a white card with blue writing on it. “That’s Trevor’s card, my boyfriend, just tell him I told you to call and he can give you whatever information you might think you need to know about the place.”
On the back there was a small and simple map showing the address and location. I simply looked down at it and nodded. It sounded ridiculous at first but the more and more I thought about it the more it seemed like a practical thing to do. I might be able to get away from my parents if I worked the system a bit.
“Um, thanks.” I say still a little unsure of this guy’s intentions.
“No problem, I hate to see such a cute kid like you go through so much.” He says and reaches into his front pocket for his keys that came jingling out into his paw. “I actually have to go pick Trevor up from work right now; we’re going out for lunch. I’d give you a ride to the school but its right around the corner and exercise is good for the body.”
“I’m not fat.” I shout for the first time, finally finding my inner tough guy and only because he was farther away. The hyena was just about to turn and walk away to his car. He pressed a button on his electronic car key and a Nissan beeped a few feet away. He seemed like he was doing well for a gay, hardcore looking, hyena, but I noticed for the first time that he had a tattoo on his forearm; the words ‘Stay True’ were inked into the flesh below his brownish fur. I wasn’t sure what it meant but before I could say something else about his exercise bullshit, I realized what he had called me. “Wait, did you say cute?”
“Yup, you’re adorable kid. Go ahead and give that number a call, maybe you’ll get lucky and we’ll see each other again.” He spoke before ducking into his car, the windows were all nearly tinted and I couldn’t see his face any longer so I just absently stared from the card in my paws to the black Nissan as it pulled out of the parking lot.
I was a little shocked. Someone had just called me cute, adorable. A guy, and a hot guy at that. What could someone like him see in me? What could anyone see in me? I thought I was a lost cause, no girl ever gave me a second of their time, no one ever for that matter called me anything more than a nuisance, a bother, crude and uncalled for, vulgar. Again, I thought about Kasai, the stupid hawk kid never seemed to look at me like all the others; he was always trying to be kind to me, that pest. I didn’t want to let his kindness win me over, but after talking to Ryan, it was going to be something that was harder to ignore. 
I slipped the card into my back pocket and picked up my drink and bag of chips that I had set aside. School would let out soon and I needed a smoke, hopefully I could find TK and bum a cigarette off him. The rabbit always had something like that on his furson at all times; I’m surprised someone like him didn’t get suspended from school more than I did. I only hopped I didn’t…no…I hoped that I did. For some odd reason, I wanted to see Kasai, just to know he was still around. It was silly, fucking stupid really; that I wanted to see the hawk, but it was the one person who I knew I could relate to on some strange level. 
My chips were crushed and my Mountain Dew half gone so while I tossed the bag and gulped down the remaining soda all I could think about was nicotine and my feathery friend, if I could even call him that.
