It was morning. Nine in the morning, to be specific.
The smell of bacon filled the kitchen. The delicious pork scent wafted around the home. Mary could feel a bit of pleasure from the sunlight coming through the nearby window. It touched her fur and warmed it blissfully. The color of her pink sports top was brought out under the sun's waves.
She was dressed in an exercise-ready outfit, minutes away from a daily jog.
She had on her favorite black leggings that showed off her figure--the figure she worked hard for. Her juicy mom-bottom and thighs would wobble or jiggle when she moved. Whenever she's in public, she can feel eyes burning holes into her backside like cavities burrowed in a beehive. She hated the extra attention that her body drew in, but she was still proud of it.
She wore a hot pink sports top that compressed her big and bouncy D-cup sized breasts to her chest. Mary had a silver piercing in her belly button--One that she hadn't worn since she got married. It was the only piece of her past she didn't have hidden away somewhere in her closet. A few months ago, she wouldn't have shown her belly at all. Now that it was small enough for her to be confident with, she could make her tummy as cute as she wanted.
No downtown middle-aged beauty like Mary was complete without her cute white fanny pack to her waist. She strapped her pink smart watch to her wrist and tapped it lightly. The screen lit up and showed the time. Just then, a warning immediately popped up. It recommended doing stress-relieving activities, or she'd be at risk of a heart attack. Figures. She hadn't forgotten anything about last night, nor has the weight of the debt she still owed got any lighter.
Mary grabbed the knob of the door and opened it. Sunlight and a clean breeze touched her face with a refreshing sensation. Before she could even turn to lock the door, she was greeted by a fox standing on the sidewalk. Her arms were crossed under her perky bosom, covered with a white sports top. Like Mary, she wore a pair of black leggings. However, the fox's pair brought out her pert butt with a built-in support,
"There you are, sleepy head." She said with a sing-songy tone, "Good morning." Her two-toned tail swished behind her.
"Morning, Abigail." Mary slipped her key back into her fanny pack. She stepped down the steps to meet Abigail on the white sidewalk, "Stretch first. I don't want you pulling a hamstring."
"Yeah, yeah, granny--Thanks." She playfully retorted.
Every day, Mary went for runs in the early morning with her neighbor and best friend, Abigail Presley. Abigail was canine, like Mary; a fox with fur as reddish-orange as a sunset, and a body to kill for. She wasn't as bodacious in the front and back as Mary was. However, the savvy Abigail could wear anything and make it look like a stripper's alter ego or a sexualized costume for a party. That was because the word 'modesty' didn't exist with Abigail. In fact, it might be the only word Mary would never hear her use.
She was leaner--more lithe--and more toned in the hips and midriff, with smaller breasts that had a perkiness to their bouncy shape. Her sultry green eyes would shatter any confidence a good man would have, and attract the narcissists, one-night-standers and cheaters for some no-strings fun. She was a living sex magnet, built from the paws up for bad decisions. To Mary, she was an example of what happens when you make impulsive choices the right way.
Her naturally sly voice touched Mary's ears, "You look like you didn't sleep much. There's an extra bag under your eye today." Abigail bent over to touch her toes, her ass facing the road. A passing car honked its horn and she waved at it, unashamed by the extra attention to her body like Mary.
Mary heard some bones pop in her sides as she twisted her body. She rolled her eyes, "Missed you too. How was your night with the girls?" Mary asked, as if Mary had any other friends besides Abigail.
"Ugh." The fox rolled her eyes as she stretched her arms one at a time, "Don't remind me."
"What happened?"
"Cheyanne, the bunny that works section B at the restaurant--You remember her, right?" Mary did not, but listened anyway, "The little thing did nothing but talk and talk and talk about her new man."
"Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Gossip?" Mary asked.
Abigail couldn't agree less, "I'm trying to drink and have fun, but she just *had* to talk about her fucking stud: This big horse from Texas. She kept talking about how he's so strong and how big his dick is. Then she told us how he picks her up like a toy in two hands and just...rails her--Absolutely tears her in half like a little chubby hot pocket. I'm pretty sure her uterus is broken. She said she can't fit more than a half of his cock inside her."
Mary had a feeling that her fox friend was the only one not having a good time, "Okay, Abby, not this early in the morning." She said, "Save the sex talk for after we run?"
"My point is that she ruined my night."
"How? Talking about getting...railed...grossed you out?" Mary bit her tongue.
"No? I just hate people that like to brag. So I had to sit there, horny as fuck and bored out of my mind, wishing I had a big horse to use *me* as his cock-polisher--."
Mary interrupted, "Can we start the run now?" She had just finished her stretches, biting her tongue so her annoyance wouldn't show through.
"Alright, alright. Damn, you're on edge today. You really didn't sleep, did you?"
"Yeah." Mary sighed, "It hasn't been a smooth two years and I think it's finally getting to me."
"Well, a good run will clear your head. Start the timer. Let's see if we can beat our record."
Mary clicked her watch. Then, the two started off their routine jog. Their feet almost matched in steps as they made their way towards the west of the city. It was calmer--less cars and bustling pedestrians.
Also in that direction was Jackson's school: Sun City High.
* * *
That same school was bottom of the barrel. While other high schools did well in academic scores and feats, Sun City High was never even close fourth. It was clean, but that was the most it could ever brag about. The curriculum itself was a failing one for most schools. However, Sun City High had the worst time with it, like the only child on the block that still couldn't ride a bike.
Jackson opened his locker to grab the book he needed for an upcoming class, the metal creaking as it opened. To his right behind the locker door, he heard commotion. Noise was common in Sun City High so he paid it no attention initially. But then he heard their conversation,
"Come on." He heard a male's deep voice, "Just one night. I promise you'll love it."
A female's voice replied with a stammer, "I said I'm good, Brent. I'm not giving my virginity to you." Jackson's eyes narrowed. He knew that voice. It was Elizabeth Sanders. The only friend he had. What was she doing talking to Brent Tank? Brent was a tall meathead; a wolf with a mind as dirty as his paws. Not to mention that his relation to the school made him practically untouchable. Even the teachers looked the other way when he was involved.
"Keep your damn voice down." He hushed, "Look, I know you're single. I'm single too, beautiful. See where I'm going with this? You might as well give it to someone who can actually satisfy you."
Jackson shook his head. Somehow, he doubted that. Brent was an asshole and Jackson's worst enemy. As much as he hated the way he was, Jackson left Brent to his endeavors. This was none of his business. Besides, he was sure she could handle it on her own. He grabbed his things and prepared to shut his locker before his ears perked up at her voice,
"I'm sure anyone would be better than you, Brent. Besides, you've been with the whole cheerleading team. I don't want your filthy thing anywhere near me so you could give me something." Elizabeth said.
Brent growled, rubbing his nose with a nod. It seemed as if she had won, until he made it clear she didn't. His strong arm slammed against the locker as he towered over her, "Look, I'm not asking. I can smell your heat from here. You're gonna give me some of that pussy or I'll find a way to make you. You know you want it."
*Now* it was Jackson's business.
Jackson shut his locker with a light slam, alerting them both to his presence, "Alright. Leave her alone, Brent." Jackson glared at his fellow canine who grinned at Jackson's presence.
Brent was stocky. He was team captain for the Sunshiners, a football team that's been dominating with him as quarterback. Brent eyed Jackson up and down with his deep brown canine eyes. He chuckled, and backed off of Elizabeth, "Well, well. What's up, Jacky Boy? My bad, buddy, I was just chatting with your chick."
Elizabeth stuttered, "He's not my boyfriend-"
Brent wagged a finger over his shoulder at her, "Hey hey--Let the men talk, sweetie."
Jackson scowled, "We aren't buddies, Brent. And you aren't going to force someone to like you because you're an entitled dick. Now leave the girl alone and go hump a leg somewhere."
"Or what? Are you gonna finally give me that fight I've been wanting?" He smirked and threw his arms open in a beckoning manner, "I've been fuckin' dying to kick your ass for fucking with my little sister, Jacky Boy."
Jackson scoffed, "That's all you know how to do. You don't have a single logical thought in that empty skull of yours. You're all meat and no self-control." He could hear commotion behind him. He kept his hands in his hoodie pockets where he would maintain his passive but dominant stance in the argument. People were gathering around, murmuring between themselves.
"Pfft. My hands are all I need. I catch a ball with them. I fuck with them. I break with them." Brent stepped closer, "You must think you're the hottest shit, huh? You're not even a toot, little bitch. So what's it gonna be, Jacky Boy? You gonna back off, or am I gonna have to teach you a lesson in front of your bitch?"
Jackson glared into Brent's eyes. Anyone else would stand down. Brent was a beast. Jackson was a mystery. He was the silent one. The quiet kid. The one his classmates cheated off of in class. The straight-A student with nothing to his name but good grades and the affection of teachers. Elizabeth watched in worry as Jackson stood up for her. She was the only one who truly knew Jackson. Everyone else saw him like a ghost.
"I don't know." Jackson's eyes sharpened, "You tell me, 'buddy'."
Brent growled, "You little-" Brent raised his claws. The fight was on. Everyone stood at attention fast. Jackson was inches from pulling his hands from his pockets, ready to fight...before order was shouted from behind. Brent was stopped. Everyone was frozen--Jackson included--as a voice shattered the room into a thousand pieces,
"Stop this instant!" Her voice reigned like her being, approaching with poise in her step and anger in her eyes; 'Her Highness of Sun City High':
Principal Gwen Scarlet.
Her mere presence shut everyone up. The sound of her heels clicking and clacking down the halls were a warning to straighten your back and keep it clean. They watched the tall Doberman step through the crowd with little effort, as they parted like a canyon. Whenever she was in the room, she was in control. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. She could make anyone kneel with her shockingly effective icy glare. One look into her red gaze and she could tell you everything she was thinking about you.
And, usually, it was never anything positive.
