Furry High (furry 'coming of age' story) R18+

3

2 hours later

There's something nice about arriving at a destination... I can't quite put my paw on it.
Maybe it's getting paid off for waiting so long, I had sat in the back of an Uber car more than an hour, and now here I am, walking into a forest as Robin stares at me from a tree.

She looks pissed off, that's understandable; I'm late. She never leans against a tree unless she's either trying to be seductive, or mad at something. Or maybe both, a fox like herself would know what it means to hate someone you love.

There were voices along with the crunch of dry leaves under my feet. Laughter and small talk weaving out of the copious amount of autumn trees, all frail and yellow, like breadsticks just waiting to snap.

"You luh-look happy." I yell out as I come over. I'm actually quite nervous, she's known to have a very, very short fuse.

She shakes her head, eyeing me up and down.
"And you didn't even bring the fucking beer..."

I stopped, close enough to her. And we stood for a while, eyeing each other down. It was like a western movie, and this forest certainly wasn't big enough for the two of us.
We burst out laughing at near identical times.

"It's good to see ya Skim." She laughs as she pats me on the shoulder.

I cringe away slightly, as if her hand was acidic to my fur.

She quickly pulls away with a weary chuckle.
"Oh yeah." She says softly. "I forgot about the 'no touching' thing."

Here's a little note, I'm definitely not autistic. Trust me, my mums had me checked.
There's always been something with me, where if someone is not related, I feel extremely anxious if they touch me. If I'm touched I cringe, if I need to shake someone's paw I get lightheaded. The only reason I've hugged my halfdad, Is because he's related to me now. And that somehow takes the pain away.
And sex... well, I haven't gotten the chance to experiment with that yet.

"Anyways." She sighs, changing topics.
"Everyone's in there, so I'm ready when you're ready."

I shuffle my feet nervously.
"Ok." I mumble.

The funny thing is, I don't like any fur around that goddamn campfire. Neither does Robin.
Finding a job has been hard for me because being a racoon apparently makes you untrustworthy. So the only way that I can get the necessities of alcohol and cigs, is by mooching off of other furs.
There are two types of rejects in this world. The ones who sit around and wait for Lady Luck to pay them a visit, and the ones who pick up their slack and make something happen.
No matter how scary it is, I'm a number 2.

A bit of walking later, and with the orange light of the fire swirling and flickering around the dead trees, god it would be easy to start a forest fire. One lit cigarette in the wrong place and kapoom! The entire place would be up in flame.

I took a deep breath, nodded to robin and stepped into the clearing.

"Heyyyy here he is!" Some random guy I barely knew exclaimed, clapping his hands together like it was the Fourth of July. "The Skim himself!"

I took a sweeping glance, and gulped. Sitting around the campfire were at least 15 furs. All sitting around a large bonfire filled with hot glass from empty beer bottles, and a tinge of plastic from god knows what. Everyone looked equally intimidating, even the girls who clung to the closest thug to them as if I was responsible for domestic violence or something.
Shit, I should have taken the medication, I'm going to stutter, oh god I'm going to stutter.
"Hey." I said back a little uselessly.

A bird, black feathers that looked almost dirty in his hoodie, held out both of his wings in question.
"You were meant to bring something idiot. Beer, anything."

Robin had my back.
"He drank it on the way over here." She said with a subtle wink in my direction. She looked stunning, by the way. Her orange fur seemed to glow like embers next to the fire.

That earned a short chorus of chuckles from a few of the more light-hearted furs in the group. The thugs, mostly aggressive dog breeds, continued to eye me down.

I sat myself down. Robin did as well, a little next to be but not enough to look like we were dating. Thankfully, everyone went back to small talk as if the entrance had never happened.
Except for one guy.

A single fish swimming against the stream of fuckboys and sluts.
An male otter, fully enveloped in shadow. He sat directly opposite me, the only parts of him illuminated were his water blue eyes, dancing with orange sparks as it reflected the fire... as well as an occasional flare from the end of his cigarette.
He stared at me like a predator would stare at prey: patiently, precisely... heart so cold and still it barely pumped blood.

I stared back, as well. Soon, it was a stand off. A test, to see which one would pussy out first.
A minute passed.
Than two.
Than five more after that.

"Wake up bin-diver!" It was robin, shaking my arm. I broke the gaze subconsciously, and saw that she was offering me an entire bottle of vodka.
I grabbed it. A bit bummed out that I lost the contest between me and the otter.
I bet he thinks he's dominant now. I thought with a sigh.
Two gulps later, I passed it to the random girl on my left, so that the drinking circle could keep on rotating.
I don't remember her, in fact, I barely remember anything after the first of the vodka spat fire down my throat.