Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
"This will be the last time I ever set foot in this shitsty," Fox McCloud muttered as he entered 'The Magic Arsehole,' a bar for fags, queers, tailraisers, trannies, however the sexual fringe society of Corneria City identified themselves, this was one of their obscure hangouts. In fact it was the most obscure, tucked away in a dark corner at the edge of the artsy fartsy ghetto.
"So good to see you again," remarked the familiar bouncer, a fat purple painted elephant wearing leather assless chaps and no shirt. He held a riding crop, waving patrons in like a magic wand over his bulbous rubbery gut.
Fox was incognito like usual. In fact it wasn't even Fox here. Here his name was Dog. Ever since it happened, he had a new found freedom. He could truly be himself for the first time in his life. He got himself new clothes, a couple of new piercings in his ears, nipples. He dyed streaks of his fur bright blue, a striking contrast against his fiery orange fuzz. Everyone thought the real Fox McCloud was dead, but really, with a new life and new look, he had been lurking here for two months now.
The simple reality was Fox liked to get fucked. He liked to get fucked raw by a nice cock. And every time he set foot in 'The Magic Arsehole' looking for another two-timing buck to fuck him raw he'd tell himself the same little mantra, 'this will be the last time.' It never was and it never will be.
"Fortunian," Fox grumbled at the bartender, Chaz, a skinny little gray feline in jeans and no shirt.
"Oh I know Dog," he said as he happily reached for a glass under the bar. "Always the same for you. I've figured out your pattern you know."
"You have?" Fox asked, his interest only slightly peaked.
"Why yes!" the young attractive feline continued with a glass in his hand, setting his elbows on the bar and leaning toward Fox's green eyes ever so slowly. "You come in here every Saturday night at around this time. You usually wear black, and have your collar popped like tonight. You order a Fortunian. You'll drink all of it down in about a minute." He toyed with the glass and Fox looked over his shoulders, scanning the dark seedy joint. "Then you'll ask for another. You'll drink this too in about a minute. All the while you rudely blow off anyone who tries to talk to you until you 're on your third Fortunian."
"Nice work detective, now pour me the fucking drink."
He filled the glass with the ale. "The fourth one you let someone else buy. Usually a handsome older man."
The glass came to Fox's paws and he started gulping it quickly. He knew this night he'd want to get an even quicker start. Chaz's analysis was irritating him.
"But your routine is all I know Dog, everything else is a mystery."
"You try to talk to me every fucking time I come here," Fox let his arm with the empty glass fall against the bar with a ping. "What do you want from me?"
"Nothing nothing!" Chaz defended and took his elbows off the bar. "Just curiosity, s'all."
"My drink order is all you need to know bud."
Fox was even more irritated when forty minutes later Chaz's analysis remained accurate. His fourth and fifth beers were bought by an older fox named Jim and right now they were in the middle of the usual chitchat you had to wade through before you got to the good stuff. He was a bit akin in appearance, orange fur, well built, but there were streaks of white around his muzzle showing his age. He kept his sunglasses on and was well dressed with a brown leather jacket, jeans, and spaceboots. This guy must have been more private than he was, Fox surmised. He liked that.
"So you quit your job as a spaceline pilot and now you work as a steel worker?" the older fox asked in his deep soothing voice.
Fox gulped some more beer. "Yeah, it just wasn't working out for me. The whole system of it was just lame," Fox continued to fib. He usually made up a fake career. Sometimes it was consistent, sometimes it wasn't, but it got more elaborate every time. Chaz pulled away from another patron to check on 'Dog' and his new lder friend.
"How we doing boys?"
"Fuck off," Fox said absently scratching a blue tuft of fur on his neck.
"I'm fine," Jim added.
Chaz grinned and skirted away with his tail bobbing.
Jim turned to Fox. "Man you're real great with people."
"I try my hardest. I really do."
"Do you really?" Jim asked with a smirk.
"I can be great with people," Fox said brushing closer a little clumsily with his glass. "I can show you."
"Show me," the older fox said.
Back at Jim's apartment, Fox grunted and let his legs relax on the older man's broad shoulders. He had just finished getting fucked. It had been sloppy and rough, yet passionate. Fox was satisfied. In fact, he'd say this was the best fuck in the past three weeks.
"That was great," Jim sighed, pushing forward and hovering over his mate. "Could have been a little tighter, but still great. How old are you anyway?"
"Twenty-four," Fox mumbled wiping the sweat from his brow and letting his legs fall to Jim's sides.
"Hah, you could practically be my son." Jim paused at that, staring down at the youthful fox he had just made fervent love to.
Fox noticed the moment and looked up. "Does that bother you?"
Jim shook off the feeling and slid off the bed. "…No. No, of course not. I like younger guys." He trotted toward the bathroom. "I'm gonna brush my teeth and do a line. Uh you can spend the night if you'd like," he called.
Fox rubbed his face from the booze and post-coital bliss, and stretched out on the king sized bed.
"Dog I can set you up if you wanna do a line too," Jim said from the bathroom.
"Yeah go ahead." Fox pulled himself off the sweaty sheets and made his way out the room to find the kitchen. He slowly slumbered nude down the hallway and entered a door. Not the kitchen. Looked like a study with an immense loft style window facing the city. He was about to step out when he noticed what was in the cluttered room. There were notebooks scattered everywhere on a desk, photos, newspaper clippings. He turned on a light and studied the articles on the desk.
'Fox McCloud killed in mysterious gate docking explosion'
'General Pepper: Official inquiry being requested after catastrophe'
'Star Fox Team reacts with horror at terribly tragedy'
'Cornerians hold candlelight vigil in hero's honor'
His skin crawled and his fur slowly stood on end from the familiar headlines. He pushed more papers aside and found clumps of old photos. He spread them out.
Ever so slowly he felt a grasp at his neck as he spread the familiar faces, Peppy playing cards, Pigma hosing down an old Arwing. Slowly choking. Spread and spread. Familiar and familiar. Tighter and tighter.
Fox gripped one photo as he tried to suck in air through his teeth. It was of a bright orange baby kit sitting on a couch, smiling and green eyed. He flipped it over and written on the back,
'Fox - 8 months. Vixy, look how big our boy has gotten!'
Fox looked down at his disheveled naked body. The moments of sickening sex flashed through his head. Fox felt he was going to throw up as he tried to piece it together. The booze churned and gurgled in his stomach. There was a tap at the door and it opened.
"There's a light on in… Dog what are you…" Jim paused and saw the naked fiery fox with his frazzled streaks of blue, looking at the photo.
"Why do you have this?" Fox glared menacingly, one hand with a death grip on the baby photo, the other trying to grasp helplessly at his white furred stomach.
"Dog… it's of my… it's…" Jim was dismayed and tightened his robe.
Fox carefully put the photo back on the pile on the desk. "Are you James McCloud?" he asked in a shaky voice.
Jim stared, unsure of what to say, how to respond. The evidence was overwhelming. The room was a literal shrine to his achievements.
"Yeah… yes I am. I'm James McCloud."
Fox tipped sideways and gripped the large wooden desk for support. "Oh God."
"Look I know I've lied to people…" James said. He approached Fox.
"Oh God," Fox fell into a trance and his head slumped forward. "Oh God."
"I know I've deceived millions, but I've started a new life for myself." His paw caressed Fox's chest from behind, brushing over piercings until he pulled him in closer, both his arms wrapping around tightly. "I'm a different person. I'm not going to treat you bad just because I used to be famous. This wasn't just a one night stand."
"Oh God. Oh God." Fox tried to pull away.
"Please believe me. I really enjoyed you Dog. Will you relax? What's wrong?" He started kissing the fur on his back.
Fox recoiled weakly and fumbled at James's arms, trying to push it all away. He couldn't get out of the hold as he felt wet kisses go down his spine. "Oh… please no… please stop… It's…" He felt his throat closing in.
"What?" James begged angrily trying to pull Fox in closer as he pulled away more.
Fox violently thrust himself out of James's arms. He swerved around, backed up against the desk. "It's… it's me!"
"It's me! It's your son! It's me Fox! I'm alive!"
James's mind went blank and he stared with vacant eyes.
"It's me dad… Oh God… it's me," Fox felt himself crumble, slouching against the desk holding himself, wanting to rip off every piece of skin on his body that had been touched. He could still taste his father's cock on his lips.
James took a step back. "How…" The recognition hit him like a shotgun blast to the chest. He saw through the piercings, the attitude, and the blue fur. He saw his boy. Every muscle in him clinched and suddenly his legs couldn't hold him up. How could he not have seen. It had been so long. He slumped against the wall behind him. What had he done. He saw his boy's terrified green eyes and knew. His arms and hands and claws went rigor mortis, locked in a shocked state. What horrible thing had he done. His digits twitched, wanting to claw his own eyes out.
Fox lurched down on one knee and grabbed a waste basket, hurling the contents of his gut violently into it. The sensations of fucking and passion swam through his head with the vague fatherly memories. Being held as a child. Being held in bed. Being fucked in bed. They mashed together. It was the same. It was all the same. He couldn't rip them apart.
James slid down until he was sitting in a frozen state. "What have I… How could…"
Fox felt another rush from his stomach to his throat and another volley of vomit filled the bin. His mind spun through thoughts and feelings. Getting fucked. His father's tongue exploring his body. Oh God harder. No! Stop! 'I'm James McCloud.' No! Claws digging. 'We lay this body to rest.' Quick repeating thrusts. 'It's okay to cry.' Peppy held him close. No! Slap slap slap. 'Figured out your pattern.' Chaz grinned.
The carousel of thoughts screeched to a stop with another aching surge from his stomach. His watery vision saw a shimmer of light flash through the window. He knew what he had to do.
James grabbed the fur on the sides of his face wanting to pull himself apart. "Fox I… I can't feel…"
Fox couldn't either. He slowly got up and wiped his lip, gazing at the window before turning and staggering out of the study in a daze.
James tugged at himself, "How… how can I forget this… how can we erase…" He felt evil. He disappeared all those years ago. He abandoned his son only to come back and fuck him like a cheap —
Fox dashed back into the room, rushing at full speed past the desk, past a startled James, until his naked body smashed through the plate glass window and pivoted over the edge.
Fox made a short cry as the fortieth story view of the city, then street, careened and spun to twenty with shimmers of glass, ten, five. With a sick splat his body impaled back first on an old fashioned street sign, the wooden marker breaking clean off and the pole shooting up out his chest. Friction slowed his body to a crawl just above the ground. Shards of glass rained down around him cracking and breaking into smaller pieces. His arms and legs hung limply back toward the sidewalk almost touching the pavement. He blinked, still conscious, amazed at how quick that was. His view now was of the street upside down. He let out a small cough and felt a funny draining sensation.
James's paws trembled as he stared at the large broken window, unable to comprehend what just happened, only noticing the gentle breeze that flapped papers about in the study.
A couple, two felines, having a romantic nightly stroll on the sidewalk stopped dead in their tracks at the sight. A half second of realization and the woman screamed at the naked skewered fox. Her husband grabbed her by the arms and turned her away from the gruesome spectacle.
Fox stared at the upside down couple and tried to say something, but all that came out was a gurgling rivulet of blood.
"Oh… oh G-g-god…" The man stuttered, unable to pull his eyes away.
Something above whooshed, and before the man could look, James's body plunged through the pole face down with an awful rip of shredding flesh. A spray of blood coated the couple and the woman screamed into her husband's chest, unsure of what was happening. James's body slipped down the pole in a squishy slither and pressed into Fox, face to face. They slumped together in a furry man kabob, their limbs dangling with each other. James rested his bloody lips on Fox's, not having the energy to move anything else.
"I… I love you… my son," he muttered. "I… I'm sorry I fucked you."
The man watching vomited all over his wife at those words. And then she vomited too. And then urinated herself. They continued to vomit and urinate for several minutes until the police came and took them away from the horror.