Title: Carter’s Streets
Author: Invisanon
Genre: PoFG
Tags: Drama, Erotica, Straight (90% of the time)

Foreword: This was written originally for the common theme of /PoFG/, a trash bin dedicated to the degenerate setting where human beings are dumb, domestic animals akin to the humans from Planet of the Apes or dogs, but some are of normal intelligence. At least, normal for Anon autism. They live among a world of anthropomorphized animals, some kept as mere pets. Where the intelligent humans came from varies from story to story; there is no established canon. The purpose of this was to invert some of the common themes of /PoFG/.Where most /PoFG/ stories revolve around type B and D personality humans coming to terms with their subservient roll despite their intelligence being close to or equal with the dominant life forms, this story does not deal with docile or submissive humans.

For returning readers, I tweaked more than a couple things and created some more evocative scenes. For chapters 1-7, the content is much the same. 8 & 9 have been completely rewritten.  

_____

Carter's Streets

Prologue:

Carter was a nervous sort. Coyotes like him, as a species, were wary of the larger creatures that inhabited this world with them.  As such,  when a bigger boy was in the room,  Carter tended to give them a wide berth; it was as much instinctual as it was experiential. When Carter had left home, he had not found much in the way of success. He and his roommates had been evicted one too many times what with how hard it was to handle finances in this economy. The landlord had taken the coyote and his roommates, a badger, coon, and stoat- hey, little guys need to stick together- to court for back rent and damages to the property. Since one cannot get blood from a stone, all the landlord actually got was to keep the security deposit. With the difficulty in finding gainful employment and his abysmal track record in occupying a space owned by another person, Carter found himself here. Detritus and debris littered the ground. Musty and fetid wrapping paper, shopping bags, and refuse skittered through the derelict project whenever a light breeze flitted between the hollowed out husks of what had once been public housing. This is where Carter squatted. This small building was a hovel when it was new. Now, the ruined plaster and dry wall stretched along the room like decaying teeth.  A bitter odor hung on everything, the scent of the dregs of society that seeped into everything they touched. It was a signal that Carter was far from the first to huddle away in here. Tweakers had long since beaten Carter to the copper pipes. It was shelter from the elements. It broke the wind and kept out the worst of the cold by disrupting the evils of the natural world with its oppressive and consuming presence. 

Carter had a week-long musk built up, and his clothes started to feel wet to the touch even when dried. Stained and torn jeans wrapped around his legs, hanging off of his hip-bones and held in place by a cord. Around his skinny upper body,  three layers of baggy shirts hung off of him. Holes had started to open up in them, little irregular circles where the faded color of the shirt underneath peaked through.  He knelt down in the smallest, warmest chamber in the husk. The smell of canine musk teethed at the sides of his nose.  Carter was truly glad that canines did not sweat as prolifically as other species like rodents. He had heard some uncomfortable information from rats and other species with sweat-cooled sections of their skin. The musk built up much faster, and the moisture attracted nasty infections. Still, even without that bane,  Carter had to make a conscious effort not to smell himself.

Although he had always been slender,  Carter was losing weight at an alarming rate and had a persistent feeling of general unwellness that he was unfortunately becoming used to. Whelp, no time to ruminate on the poor-me's. Carter would have to think about some way to get some money. And some food. Now, if only he knew anything about getting money besides panhandling.

A noise startled Carter out of his reverie. "Shi-et man, I'm too hungry for this," he murmured to himself. He looked out to see if it was someone he knew or those asshole cats that had been skulking around. He was far from the only transient that shacked up here. That was the problem with good spots. He carefully peered around the dingy-black molding of the open archway, cringing each time his shoes made a crinkle or crunch over the litter of glass and trash in on the linoleum floor.  Two hazel eyes snapped to Carter's. The coyote froze as the other's wild gaze and pinpoint pupils pierced into him. The fierceness rattled through his core,  and a shriek escaped the coyote's lips, shrill and  un-masculine. The owner of the eyes lept back and snarled at him. Carter nervously eyeballed the lead pipe in the stranger's hands before snapping back up to his face, and finally his stressed mind processed that this was not a stranger.

"Oh, it's you," Carter said, breathing a sigh of relief. The human across from him eyeballed him warily. In the dim light, Carter had not immediately recognized him with the hood up, scarf on, and the surgical face mask stretched around his head. He knew those eyes though, and the beard sticking out from the face mask was a giveaway once you realized it was a human. The beast standing with his shoulders back and stance wide; he was probably off-put by Carter's lack of composure. You know what they say about animals, they mirror you. If you are stressed, they are stressed. Carter let the calm come over him, something that had gotten harder since he had started using 'medicinal aides' for calming himself down. But, he still had it in him. One did not draw attention to oneself when the big boys were talking.

The pinkish, almost-white, skin of the vanilla breed human had lost what little color it had from the excitement which was slowly returning as he calmed. His brown hair was long and shaggy but somehow not dirty and matted. The facial hair was unshaven and growing thickly from his high cheekbones and down to cover the front of his neck, probably either to keep other humans from biting it or to make him look more threatening. Warm clothing, warmer than Carter's, wrapped him. It was probably two or three layers judging by the look of it. He had boots on his feet, although Carter had never seen boots made for humans. They probably were out there for weirdos who liked to play dress-up with their pets. How this guy stayed clean-ish and kept finding food baffled Carter, but the human usually came in not stinking too badly. Human bodies were covered head to toe with sweat glands that gave them a particular odor. Without regular baths, they developed a powerful funk. This one did not smell that bad. He also always seemed to have food of some kind. Maybe he had figured out a spot to clean off, or maybe some kind stranger had taken pity on him. The beast was smart, though. And wary.

The human gave him a look of thinly veiled disdain and pulled down his face mask. A yellow wrapper crinkled in his hand,  and he bit into its contents.  The smell of the food made its way to Carter's nose. It smelled hot and delicious. He salivated, and Carter's stomach let a humiliating rumble escape. The sound caught the attention of the human. He was not as jumpy as Carter, but he had a sort of situational awareness that made the coyote self-conscious about his actions. The human masticated his big mouthful of food slowly and meticulously while he stared Carter down, mercilessly maintaining eye-contact. "Hey, s'your food, man," the Coyote said as he averted his eyes, "I'm na' gonna take it." While Coyotes had teeth and claws, not all humans were the little, friendly, gallumping oafs that you saw on TV and fun memes. Some were big, and they got mean on the streets, not that Carter could find it in his heart to blame them. The streets were a mean place. 

The human sighed and swallowed his mouthful. He approached Carter, and the coyote shrank back. The human was big, as big as some wolves and cougars he had seen, and broad-shouldered. Carter had no idea how strong the beast was and most certainly did not want to find out. A fistful of a hamburger got shoved against his snout. Carter's eyes, having reflexively clenched shut, opened up to find the big hand of the human pressing a scrap of food into his face. He looked up and saw the human looking down at him with a neutral expression, lips pressed thin into a line. Cautiously, Carter slowly lifted his hand up and wrapped it around the proffered meal. It was not much, but hey, it beat going hungry.

Carter backed off, and the human watched him while he ate the food, taking another bite out of his own meal. Carter had not been given even half, but he had been given something. When Carter had finished horking down his morsel, the human was still slowly chewing his food and taking small bites. Did humans share food with each other? They were social animals alright, but he had never heard of them sharing food, especially not food. The human's lead pipe dangled menacingly from his belt. It was wrapped in scrap cloth and dangled menacingly. Come to think of it, Carter had never seen a human armed with a weapon before. He wondered if it was his favorite toy or something. He hoped that was what it was. Good lord, he hoped.
______

Carter retreated to the smallest bedroom, wrinkling his nose as he was reacquainted with the shit-covered futon some other vagrant had left behind at some point as the centerpiece of disgust. Even the human found it repulsive when he entered, probably for the same reason Carter had. It smelled stale and rancid in here. The human grabbed the futon and drug it away, throwing it outside, something Carter himself had been too lazy to do, and returned with that dufflebag Carter had always seen him haul around. He popped himself down in the corner, the one that had view of both the single bedroom window to one side and the doorway to the other. Carter had inched away to the other side of the room. 

The human had been around this area enough that Carter was used to him, and Carter presumed that the human was used to Carter as well, but that did not mean Carter felt like trying his luck. The human had probably come in here for the same reason he had, because the small room was the warmest in the hollowed out shell of the derelict building. Some cardboard was duct taped to the broken out window like it was in most of the buildings here by bums that had come here long before Carter and would be left up for those that would come after him. It was insulated enough. Now if only it did not reek.

As it would turn out, the single hamburger was not all the food the human had. The vanilla's dufflebag turned out to have a packing of a few greasy, slimy fast food items that looked old enough that the grease had begun soaking through the wrapper. There were chicken sandwiches, slivers of chicken with a glob of mayonnaise, a sad piece of shriveled lettuce, sandwiched between sesame seed buns; hamburgers, many of them burnt and the produce on them shriveled; and other food that was old enough to be disgusting but not so old as to be rotten. After the beast ate his fourth helping, Carter's growling stomach, invigorated by the small amount of food in it, made one last valiant attempt to motivate Carter to find food for himself.

A soft, squishy object impacted the side of his head and bounced off. "Hey!" Carter squawked indignantly. He looked over to see the human smirking at him. Smirking. He looked to see what had hit him. To his surprise, it was another hamburger with a thin piece of cheese and desiccated, shriveled vegetables. It was not at all appetizing, but hey any port in a storm. Carter wolfed- ahem, coyote-ed- the hamburger down let out a sigh of satisfaction afterwards. He glanced at the human who was still eating for he was one to eat slowly and meticulously. "Jeez, do ya jus' sneak in and snatch all this?" Carter asked rhetorically, "Gotcha some sticky fingers, yeah boy?" The human's smirk faded, and the look of disdain returned. Humans were expressive animals once you got used to them. Maybe he disliked the noise Carter was making.

Carter turned sheepish. "Heh, no offense," he said, feeling silly for talking to a human, "No shame in dumpster divin' or gettin' whatchyou need, right?" The human rolled his eyes. Well screw you too, buddy, Carter thought. 
______

Chapter 1:

It had already been close to evening, and Carter fell asleep. He had just thought to rest his eyes a bit, not wanting to be vulnerable to the human in the middle of the night. What if the beast decided that stale fast food had not been enough? But, a hard pull from deep within himself dragged Carter down into the realm of dreams. He slept fitfully. He always did. When Carter stirred, it was only long enough to register waking and his state of discomfort. A subtle shift and he slipped back away. When the first dim rays of daylight broke, over the horizon,  Carter was just awake enough that he could not possibly go back to sleep, no matter how unfulfilling his rest had been. Blearily, he focused his eyes and saw that the human was still asleep and bundled up in a grease-spotted blanket with his back to the wall. The beast's head head was resting on the dufflebag. Well, if humans knew one thing, it was how to get comfy. Growing up, Carter had had a pet, and that chocolate breed human was the biggest bed hog he had ever known. Granted, it was also a big human, not like some of those short and skinny chocolates you saw across the Atlantic. Something about the way they had been bred in the last couple centuries had changed the way the local chocolates looked. But hey, new breeds and sub-breeds appeared all the time. 

When Carter sat up and yawned, the human's eyes opened and locked onto him. So, he was a light sleeper. Good to know. "Good morning," Carter said. The human grunted back at him. Cute. That stretched a smile across his muzzle. Apparently the human did not like that and was scrutinizing Carter's expression. Carter's smile turned sheepish. "Thanks for the food, boy," he said instead, attempting to change the subject. Unfortunately, he just got that same look of disdain. "Hey, I know, I know," Carter said. He had not had anyone friendly to talk to, just talk to, in a while, so his need for interaction had overcome his sense of embarrassment at talking to a dumb animal. "I saw a good corner that hasn't been milked in a while," he said, "There's a religious neighborhood nearby, so lotsa money to be made, boy."

The human lifted his hand to his forehead, extending his thumb and index finger into a capital 'L'. Whoever taught the human to do that was a jackass. A loser, huh? Well guess who also eats out of the trash? You, you big dumb brute. "Har-de-har-har," he said to the human, "Well boy, you got a better way to make some green? Do I look like a gainfully employed and productive member of society?" The human was silent. Gotcha, bitch. Oh man, what was he doing? Carter suddenly felt really stupid. "Carter, my man, you're losin' it, talkin' to a human," he chastised himself aloud. Great, now the human was snickering at him. What little was left of his soiled pride was shredded by this human and buried in the back yard.

"Well how you gonna earn, boy?" Carter said to the human, "You wanna come wif me, be my cute widdle mascot?" His tone had gotten sickeningly sweet by the end there, and the human's snickering had stopped. Carter then got flipped the bird. "Fuck, man, no need to be rude, y'know? What joker taught you that, anyway?" Carter groused. He sighed and got up. "To bad though, I see the other homeless with cute humans out there gettin' mad dolla'," he told to his new acquaintance, a human. The human's upset melted and he regarded Carter. The human's demeanor melted back to ire when Carter next said, "Yer not very cute though. Too big and shaggy." Carter felt like he had had the last laugh as he left.

It took him almost a minute to realize that the human was following him. the Coyote leapt through his pelt when he finally realized. How something could be so big and yet step so quietly was beyond him.

___

For a while, Carter was afraid that the stray human would scare people off. Panhandling was hard enough without a scary-looking human making things difficult on him. Oh, was Carter in for a surprise. That glaring, snarling brute melted away, smiling and curled up on the concrete sidewalk ground next to Carter's sigh. The cardboard sign proclaimed his and 'his human's' need for sustenance. Carter did his best to seem harmless but sincere with each passer by, but his gut twisted each time the human got close to someone. The guileless, friendly creature pawing at people in the unsophisticated, gentle pats was not the same animal that scared the daylights out of Carter yesterday. The human's friendly act and forwardness inviting himself into passers-'by personal space got them a lot of positive attention. Carter watched, bewildered all the more as the human rolled onto his back and smiled up at the next set of pedestrians. The male cappybara and the woman with him stopped to coo over and pat him, unwary of the supplicating human's innocent act.

"Oh you take such good care of him, don't you?" a cute pangolin said to Carter, "He’s so happy and clean!" Carter smiled nervously. It was weird having a non-homeless woman talk to him of her own free will, and the image he beheld was hard to rectify with the confident, slinking, and assertive beast he had seen around the derelict buildings in the old public housing block.

“Y-yeah,” Carter said, “He’s a good boy, alright. Smart too.” The human’s expression did not change, but his eyes slid to stare Carter in the eye. Suddenly, Carter remembered just how smart the human was and hoped that he was only looking at him because he was talking.

“Yes, such a good boy,” the pangolin girl said, rubbing the human’s tummy with both her clawed hands. He wriggled on the floor. For a second, Carter thought he was writhing in discomfort, but maybe he was misjudging the situation. 

A squeal from another girl, a young fox, by the looks of it, came. She came by and joined in on the petting, and the human looked like he might be getting a bit overwhelmed. Carter bit his lip nervously. Come on, you big brute, don’t you dare snap at them, he thought, The last thing I need is getting run off this corner because of you.

The foxy fox bent over and the low-cut neckline of her blouse showed the huge tracts of land the girl had been blessed with. The human sat up, and his face pressed up into her tits. She hugged his head to her, further pressing the damn lucky beast closer still until he was enveloped by her bosom. He hugged her back. Carter’s heart leaped into throat when she squealed, but it was just that excitement. She scratched his head, and her tail wagged excitedly while she pet him enthusiastically. “Aww, he’s so sweet,” she said.

Carter breathed a sigh of relief having been briefly worried that he would snap at her. Then, he saw the human smirking at him again. What? He winked at Carter.  Gently, the fox pushed the human off, and he relinquished his grip on her. Carter could have sworn he saw the human"s hand slide over the girl"s butt, but all the while there was not a trace of mischief in his face. Yeah, I saw that, you pervert, Carter thought. She caressed the side of his face and rubbed the bearded cheek. The girls eventually said their farewells and moved on. They dropped some change before they left, mostly pennies but Carter saw some silver.

It was a busy street, and several passers by also dropped some change and even a dollar or two in his bucket. To Carter's surprise, the human occasionally emptied the bucket into his dufflebag. The coyote let a nervous whine out the first time, but the human patted him on the back and gave him a thumbs up. Had whomever had him last trained him to panhandle? Well, they did pay more when your tin cup was empty.

Now that he thought of it, the human had put his lead pipe away in the bag when they moved onto the corner which was good because that would have made people nervous. Carter hoped the human did not know how to use it. After all, humans could carry stuff, play with balls and Frisbees, and once in a while, you would see one open a door, but there was no way one knew how to use a cudgel to bash your brains out, right?
______

Chapter 2:

Eventually, it got dark, and people stopped giving. It was time to pack up. The human slid the rest of the money into the bag. “Well,” Carter said, “I hope you plan on sharing the cash.” No one was around, so he was not as self-conscious about talking to the unusual beast. The human rolled his eyes again and started heading off back the way they came. Carter paused, scratching his neck. A jolt rocketed up his spine. A grimace tugged at his lips, and the scrawny coyote trotted after him with due haste. That money was his! If the human wandered off, he might not see it again.

They did not make it fifty feet before they heard an oily voice from an alleyway, “Damn, Carrie, ya worked tha’ corner gooood.” Carter felt his viscera writhe. A cringed  ran from his belly to his shoulders. His face screwed up, and he reluctantly turned his head to look at the source of the smarmy cat call. The ragged face of Vincent leered back at him, eyes gleaming in the dim light. He was a ‘lone wolf.’ Wolves that lacked a community were like coyotes that lacked one, usually too sleazy or pathetic to allow around others like the two bums they were. Vince though, was not nice, not in the least, and his number of scuffles showed on him. Scars peaked through his fur here and there, and it looked like he had a spot of mange working its way through his cheek. Carter has seen him in more than a few fights over turf disputes, booze snatching, and much more of the same.

“Hey, Vince,” Carter said reluctantly. It rarely hurt to be cordial, and being rude often did hurt when disrespect was taken as seriously as it was among the homeless.

Vince gave him a toothy but unfriendly grin. “Carrie, my man, what’cha doin’ runnin’ Terry’s corner, man?” he asked in feigned surprise. He wanted something.

“Ah shit,” Carter cursed aloud, unable to help himself. Terry was a crazy fucker, a near-rabid alley cat with a vicious streak and enough psychotic tendencies to make everyone leery of him. If that pile of bad news knew Carter had worked this corner, he would hunt him down and savage him. Carter’s thoughts raced, ruminating and rounding about having to keep an eye over his shoulder at every turn just in case that snarling, wild-eyed, mongrel cat wanted to shred him. Carter tried to say something but all that came out was, “Fuuuuck.”

“Hey man, don’chyu worry,” Vincent said with a leer, “I won’ say nuthin.” 

Carter stood there, pinching the bridge of his muzzle, and waited for the other shoe to drop. That is what it always was with Vincent. There was no charity in him.  

“’Cor, it sure would be nice to have some tha’ take,” Vincent finished with a grin filled with sharp teeth and vile intent. 

There it was. While the loss of the funds hit Carter square in the gut, he had had a feeling it was coming. Frankly, it was worth not having to deal with Terry. Carter sighed and started for the dufflebag slung around the human’s shoulder only to be stopped by the human’s outreached arm halting his advancement. “C’mon boy,” Carter said, “Terry’s bad news.” The human’s shaggy brown hair flipped when his head cocked to look at him. Carter returned with a pleading stare, yet the human remained impassive, clearly either oblivious or uncaring. With his hood down and that face mask off, the hard, angular features of his face and the set of his jaw sent a chill down the coyote’s spine. Stern, judgmental, and without trace of the cutesy act that had gotten him so much attention just an hour ago, Still, Terry scared Carter more, and so he valiantly tried to worm out of the human’s grip and get closer, but he was held at arm’s length. Damn, Carter hated being a shrimp.

“Heheh, not trained, is he?” Vincent asked with mirth.

“Shaddup,” Carter shot back at the snickering wolf. He tried again to get to the bag only for the human to intercept him. The human shot him a look, and Carter wanted to strangle him. Stupid mutt! You don’t even know what to do with the money, Carter thought, Stop being so stingy.

“Damn, Carrie, jus’ take it,” Vincent said, starting to walk over to the human. The human’s head swiveled to lock eyes with the advancing wolf. Vincent paused, suddenly wary. Something about the look in that human’s eye told him that it was a bad idea to get any closer. “Heheh, disobedient sonuvahum, eh? Where’d you find him?”

“He just started following me around,” Carter groused, “Stupid humie doesn’t listen.”

“Heh, well if you can’t get the money, how ‘bout a trade? He know the peanut butter game?” Vincent said in a manner that indicated he was only half-joking.

Carter gave Vince an uncomfortable look. “Uh, dunno. Wouldn’t risk it,” he said, “He’s not friendly.”

“Looked friendly ‘nough wit’ all those people earlier,” Vincent pointed out.

“Hey if you wanna risk getting your cock bitten off, be my guest,” Carter retorted dryly.

The wolf gave a shrug and his black lips spread in a carefree expression. “Oh well,” he said, “If ya don’ got the money, we can do our usual trade.” 

“Ah, c’mon, Vince,” Carter pleaded, “Can’t I bring it to you later?”

“Bitch, get yo’ faggot ass over here and suck my dick,” Vince demanded, having lost his patience. 

Carter’s ears went back, and he looked around. There was no one here but the human and Vincent. The human was not being helpful, and Vincent would tell Terry about Carter’s indiscretion. Carter’s eyes darted about as he weighed his options. The nasty look on Vincent’s face told him that the wolf was thinking about taking what he was demanding, and with Vincent’s track record, he could expect him to say it didn’t count because he had to take it or some other bullshit excuse. The coyote’s shoulders slumped, and he heaved a heavy sigh. Carter did not see a way out of this. Carter had been desperate before. Very desperate, but each time he stooped, it felt like a new low. He began trudging over to Vincent and mumbled under his breath. “M’not a fag,” he mumbled.

“You suck dick fo’ dolla’, you’s a fag, faggot,” Vincent said imperiously as he unzipped his pants. The unwashed odor hit Carter in the face full force, and the coyote’s eyes began to water. The red rocket was waiting for Carter and pointed straight at him. Carter hesitated, grimacing at the job ahead of him. It took mere seconds for Vincent to lose his patience. His hands both crashed down into Carter’s shoulders and dropped him to the ground. The hard concrete jolted Carter’s knees, and he had to fight to not yelp in the sudden pain.

Carter blanched as the pointed red cock was shoved into his face. He looked up at the much bigger wolf  and laughed nervously. His laugh was the opening needed for Vincent to grab him by the back of his head and pull him forward. The bony point of the tapered tip hit his tongue dead center, and taste shocked Carter’s system.

“C’mon, suck!” Vince groused while he forced Carter’s head down his length. Carter’s eyes watered when the point tickled his tonsils, but he got the message and began to get to work. His lips sealed The lovely attentions melted Vincent a bit, and he let up. Carter pulled his head back, sliding the wolf dick through his lips until the point was just barely in his mouth. His wide canine tongue slipped out and licked repeatedly at the underside. This was not the first time. Sometimes you got desperate for money, you know?

Suddenly Carter remembered the human and hoped he had not run off with all the money. His eyes darted over. The human was still there, staring at them. He looked annoyed and there was a faint curl of disgust on his lip. Well, don’t see you helping out, Carter thought, Thank you so much, mutt. Carter would have given almost anything to not suffer this humiliation yet again.

Stars exploded into Carter’s vision. The brick wall knocked the back of his head, and as he was recovering, he felt his airway block. Retching Carter flailed in distress. His hands found purchase on Vincent’s hips, but he had no real purchase with which to stop the relentless assault that pushed in and knocked his head against the wall behind him with each thrust. The ballooning, fleshy bulb at the base of Vincent’s cock swelled up behind Carter’s teeth, locking the tip underneath Carter’s uvula. His eyes watered, and the wolf finally calmed down. Bitter, sticky filth oozed down into his gullet. When he coughed, some backed up into his nose. Swallowing was the only option that allowed some comfort. He would never get used to this. He couldn’t let himself.

They were stuck there. As soon as Carter had started swallowing, Vincent sang out, “Faaaag-” rang the first note, “-gooot” answered the second note. His musical insult some stung more than the previous, casual name-calling. “You’s tha’ best knob gobbler here, Carrie.” Vincent looked way too smug. “Better than the girls,” he continued, “You’s a good little bitch boy, fag.” Carter summoned his best glower up at Vincent to which the wolf did not take kindly. Vincent pushed hips forward just far enough in to poke the back of Carter’s throat and gag him. “That’s what I thought,” Vincent said.

Meanwhile, the human stood there, bag over his shoulder, arms crossed. Carter felt awfully self-conscious, like the damn human was judging him. The fierce eyes gleamed with something that made it seem like he knew how pathetic Carter was.  You’re a whore too, Carter thought to the human, I saw you all over those girls earlier… Well, those were girls.  Stupid human. It was times like this that Carter wondered if his life would be simpler if he were a dumb animal that someone would just take care of, but he had no such luck.

Vincent pulled himself out when his knot deflated, and he wiped himself off on Carter’s face, taking one last dump on his self-esteem. “Now turn’ round,” he told Carter with one hand on the smaller canine’s shoulder.

The coyote looked up in alarm. “No way, man! We had a deal,” he squawked at Vincent, voice cracking.

“Deal’s na’ over yet,” Vincent growled at him, “Na’ til I say it is. You don’ want Terry findin’ out ‘bout you movin’ in on his turf. Now, turn tha’ phat girly ass my way.” 

Carter gulped and almost fled, but he knew that Terry would track him down. He wrestled with himself internally, realizing that he was trapped. Fucking fucking fuck. He had not known Terry worked this corner. Had he, Carter would have stayed far away. Bastard, Carter thought, wanting no part of this but seeing no other option. “Come on man, I can’t. It won’t work. I’ve never done it, and neither of us will have a good ti-” Carter tried to talk his way out, but the wind left him when he was thrown to the ground. Vincent was on top of him and wrenched his tail upward Carter yipped as the pain rushed up his spine. The pain relocated when Vincent ripped his pants down and shoved a clawed finger up his asshole dry. Tears welled up in Carter’s eyes, and a single sob escaped him This was going to suck. “Oh, look that,” Vincent said, “We’re gonna-”

A metal clang rang out through the air, and wet splattered across Carter’s back. Vincent stumbled on his feet and then teetered over. His legs buckled under his huge body, and the wolf collapsed like a puppeteer had dropped a marionette's cross. Carter spun around, rolling onto his back and hauling up his pants when he saw what had happened. Vincent sprawled across the cold ground with an empty expression. Blood pissed out of his temple. Carter’s mouth went dry. He could not look away. His mouth gaped and closed and gaped and closed. He was jolted back to awareness when it came. The lead pipe raised towards the night sky, dull gray surface catching a blur of a distant street lamp across its rough surface. It arced down, lightning quick. The wet, popping sound drew bile out of Carter’s belly, giving him an aftertaste of Vincent with it. That was death that he had just saw. Carter pressed into the wall, scooting back and folding in on himself.

How could Carter have deluded himself into thinking that it must have been a toy? Had it been anything else, he would have known what it was. That lead pipe only had one purpose in the human’s hands. The human’s head whipped towards him, and Carter ducked his head. Quiet, deep, ugly sobs shook his shoulders. He broke down. This was how he died, extorted into rape and then mauled by a mean street human frothing at the mouth with blistering, blinding rage.

Carter felt a nudge at his ankle. He jolted away, crawling backwards, eyes coming in and out of focus on the human’s dirty jeans. The dark color of what was once Vincent splattered across the beast’s thighs. 

Carter folded back in on himself and took in shallow, frantic breaths. Time drug on. He couldn’t keep this up. He stole glances up at the human. So often, it was just staring him down. He immediately ducked back down. But, the last two times, it was looking over what was left of Vincent. Exhaustion started to set in. Carter could not possibly keep up this frantic state eventually. The human was rifling through Vincent’s pockets, pulling out anything that he found and inspecting it. A folding knife. Great, another weapon. The human pocketed it before pulling out a small wad of bills. 

Having calmed down some what, Carter tried to process what had happened. “Fuuuuck,” Carter said inarticulately. He closed his eyes, hoping this whole situation would go away. When his eyes opened, he looked down and saw Vincent bleeding from his temple and onto the concrete. “Fuuuuuck,” he said again. Carter looked at the human with the bloody pipe and cursed. “Damn it, now he's either alive and going to tell Terry who will kill me,” the coyote lamented, “or he’s dead and the cops will kill me.”

The human looked Carter in the eye and cocked his head to one side in an almost quizzical manner. Carter exploded, “Fuck, do you have any idea what you’ve done?!” he shouted at the human, “Do you- mmmmf!” Carter was cut off when the human put its big paw over his face and clenched his muzzle shut. Carter went quiet. Did Carter just scream at a scary human who just murdered a big fucking wolf with a pipe? Yes, Carter, you genius; you did. The coyote went quiet, sensing it was for his own good. The human’s hazel eyes stared into his. They were not quite as terrifying as they had been the first few times this human had stared him down, but Carter felt cowed.

The human’s grip released him, and he took the pipe in both hands and prepared to bring the pipe down on Vincent one more time. However, Carter intercepted the blow on the back swing. “You can’t!” he hissed at the human who had gotten into the mess, “The cops! They’ll put me in prison and you’ll be put down.” The human, to Carter’s surprise, hesitated and looked at him. Sometimes, Carter almost thought this guy could understand him. It must have been because animals listened to your tone more so than what you were actually saying. Hopefully, the meaning got across though.

The dufflebag hit the floor with a dull thud. Carter heard some of the change tinkle inside and was suddenly reminded that all of this had been over money. Damn! If only the human had let him at the money. He’d have been able to give Vincent enough for him to shut his mouth. Sure, it would only delay the problem, but this was a much, much bigger and more immediate problem.

The bag unzipped, and the human rummaged through it. Carter had never seen a human act like this. Some could be taught to carry and fetch stuff. Carter had seen a couple videos of humans opening doors, and that was rare. The whole turning and pushing at the same time seemed to throw them off. What was he looking for? Food? At a time like this?

A blanket came out and scooped Vincent up into it. His head lolled off to the side and the blood which previously had been spilling down his side was now soaking into the blanket. The startling and ripping sound of duct tape coming off the spool made Carter leap through his skin. Vincent’s hands, feet, and muzzle were bound. The human rolled Vincent into a wolf wrap burrito and he was hauled up onto the human’s shoulder. Carter looked nervously at the splatter of blood that had fallen onto the concrete. It would dry. It would go away. It had to. Carter had to believe it. The human shook his head and used his free hand to grab Carter by the shoulder and usher him away.

Stupid human.

At least he took out Vincent before it could have gotten any worse. 
______

Chapter 3:

Glass crunched underneath their shoes as they strayed away from the illuminated sidewalk. The alleyway cut the yellow blaze down to a sliver. The abandoned public housing block had a temporary chain link fence erected around the perimeter. The two crossed over a section that had been tipped over. The metal rattled beneath their feet and crinkled the dark bottle green privacy tarp that was threaded through the chain link. It was warm tonight with even the stiff breeze blowing heated air past them. Their house of choice huddled off in the center of its sisters structures which were collapsing like decaying jack-o-lanterns. They were home, sort of. Carter’s eyes were unfocused as he mechanically trundled along next to the human. He shut out the scene that threatened to take over the forefront of his consciousness. It was easy to ruminate over how wrong things had gone so fast. The only way things could have been worse is if the human had waited until Vincent- It was so close. Carter forced his thoughts elsewhere. He needed weed! Tetchiness threatened to overtake fearfulness as suddenly the craving came rocketing back into his mind. It would be so nice to just relax and not be so tightly wound up. Purple, sticky, indica. With enough, he would be knocked out on the ground and lose himself and along with it all of this, this state of standing still until someone comes along to brutalize him. 

Carter dropped his weight in the corner of the smallest bedroom of the derelict public housing unit and let his head drop. His ears drooped, his shoulders slumped, and his tail was tucked firmly between his legs. How had this gone so wrong? The coyote wanted nothing to do with this. After all, Carter was not the one who brained Vincent, it was the human who did it. The police could not possibly blame Carter right? The human was not his, right? Hopefully, they would see it that way.

Carter felt a hand on his head, and he shrunk away. Looking up, it was the human. The human stroked his ears back and made soft, shushing noises at him. “Shhhh,” the human sounded to him while he ran his hand over the coyote’s scalp, soft ears, and down his neck. He stood, and walked away with the blanket containing Vincent shouldered. It had been surreal, being pet by the most common and most popular pet animals in the world.

What did Carter do to deserve this?

With the horror of the situation and the chance to just sit afterwards, the manic energy that had been keeping him awake escaped him like air through cracks in a tire. With his adrenaline gone, darkness poured over his consciousness like a vat of black paint. Dreamless sleep took him, and he did not so much as move through the night.

Nothing.

Bleary streams of light pried at his eyelids. Carter found himself covered in a blanket. He sniffed and averted his nose. Yep, this blanket smelled like human. They had a real pungent odor because they sweat; they sweat a lot. Carter really, really hoped this was not the blanket that Vincent had bled all over. Oh shit, Vincent! He sat up and rubbed his eyes, ears up and swiveling. Once his vision focused, Carter’s attention settled in on the human sleeping on the opposite side of the room. His hood was back up and the surgical mask back across his face. He slept on his sleeping bag with no blanket.

There was no sign of Vincent or the blanket he was wrapped in. “Ah shit, man,” Carter muttered. The human’s eye cracked open to watch him. Carter eyed him back warily. “You’re a real light sleeper, aren’tcha?” Carter said in an almost accusing tone. The human closed his eyes and writhed a bit to get more comfortable against his dufflebag. “You really had to fuck my life up, huh?” Carter continued, puffing up and getting ready to lambaste the human, “Now either I’m gonna go to jail, or Terry is going to fucking murder me!” The human snorted at him and started rousting himself, as if accepting that he was not going to get any sleep like this.

Carter continued to think of more ways to curse the human that had once been a mere distant acquaintance he causally avoided and had turned into a well-meaning danger. What if he struck again and it got blamed on Carter? 

Carter’s thoughts rear-ended each other, colliding and tumbling when he heard the tinkling of change. The human’s thick-fingered, rough, and meaty paw dropped a fistful of silver coins onto the bare floor. He took out another fistful. Carter perked up. There was a lot of money, he knew, but he didn’t know how much.  He scooted forward along the ground and reached down to start counting. A lancing sting rushed through the back of his hand, and Carter recoiled, clutching his hand to his chest and scrambling back. The human gave him a look and went back to pulling out the money. Crumpled bills began to join the change. 

“Hey, some of that’s mine too!” Carter said. What had started as a demanding shout trailed off into a whine. God, he felt pathetic, but realizing his complete vulnerability stifled him. Carter would survive, even if left without money. He was alive, right? He could leave and leave the murderous human and go shack up on some other part of the street. 

 Plans spiraling into castles in the sky evaporated when the human started to sort the bills. Carter’s jaw slackened, mouth opening and eyes pulling back. They were in a neat row, sorted by appearance. Humans could tell the difference between objects, sure, but this was sorting. What was this? Who would teach him this? A parlor trick?

When he ran out of bills, the human reached his hand back into the bag and rifled through it noisily to scrounge for more. His lip curled in an ugly fashion, and the beast upturned his bag to empty it out. Out came tumbling uneaten wrapped food, a soiled portable shovel, and- A soiled shovel? Carter’s vision honed in on the mud caked on his boots and the cuffs of his pants. Holy shit, had he buried Vincent? Of course he did. If he’s smart enough to sort money- even if the humie mutt is only going off of appearance- he’s smart enough to dig a hole with a shovel. Carter’s voice caught in his throat, and the human looked at him as if the coyote were the weird one. “Fuck man, did you bury Vincent?” he asked, almost expecting an answer. Instead, all he got was a disinterested grunt while the human gathered the rest of the change and a few wadded up bills. He went back to his mechanical task, flattening the crumpled paper and putting it in its proper place.

Carter was on edge, enough to start chewing his claws, something he had not done since he first lost his home. The human simply ignored him while the coyote slowly lost his mind in the corner. A few minutes passed, and the human began to divide up the stacks evenly. With a quick split and compiling them all into two neatly ordered stacks, the human scooted a stack and a pile of coi piled a bunch of coins together, and scooted them towards Carter. He palmed the rest.  Carter looked down at the money. That looked like an even split. That was a lot more fair than what Carter had planned. He was only going to buy the mutt some kibble. Carter stretched to place his hand atop the stack, expecting his fingers to slide through it like a mirage. He felt it and pinched it down and snatched it away. Time to count.  Five… Ten…

By the time he was finished, Carter realized he had one hundred twenty-two dollars plus whatever was in the pile of change. “Wow,” he said, seeing a bright side for the first time in a while, “That was a good take.” Well, it had been a busy corner. Carter could see why Terry would kill anyone that moved in on it. Hopefully he never found out…

The human stood, stretched, and left with half the money. Carter numbly watched him go and then looked down at the money in his hand. Damn, what had just happened?
______

About three miles away and an hour on foot, a small shopping center was disturbed by a guy in a dirty hoodie and filthy pants. Most people steered clear of him because of the smell abusing their poor noses. He smelled almost like he had rolled around in a pit of a dozen stinky, dirty humans, but the guy kept his head down and talked to no one. One busy-body, a scrutinizing and nosy white-tailed doe watched him with distaste. Her kid sat in the shopping cart and looked around. The smelly man’s spotted tail hung limply through his jeans. Looked like a cat of some kind. Surgical mask. Must have been sick or crazy. Best steer clear. She turned her shopping cart the other way and avoided him. 

When the guy trudged up to the counter, an elderly nanny goat twitched her nostrils at the offensive odor. Toiletries, deodorant- thank god- a twelve-pack of wine coolers, scissors, duct tape, can openers, steel wool, bleach, bars of soap, a bunch of bananas, disposable cutlery, more face masks, and a men’s magazine. Vixxxen was popular. The old goat running the checkout lane, Janice read her name tag, scrutinized him, but scanned his purchases anyways. She could see almost nothing behind unkempt hair, goggle-like sunglasses, the scarf, and face mask. He coughed a few times, lightly, like he was trying not to. “Sick, deary?” Janice asked. The guy nodded but did not engage her any more.

When the total was rang up, he pulled out a wallet and paid in cash, exact change. He picked up his bags, stuck them in the cart, and rolled them away. Janice watched the poor sick dearie. Head down, shoulders slumped, tail limp. She certainly did not want what he had. With that thought, Janice sprinkled some antiseptic wash on her hands on the hard hoofed fingertips and rubbed them all over her hands. She had touched things he had touched and thought best to stop the line of contamination with her.
______

When the human returned to his hideout in the derelict public housing, Carter was still there, much to the human’s surprise. Carter looked up, surprised. Apparently he had not expected to the human back so soon either. It was only the afternoon. “Uh, hi,” Carter said. The human stared at him through some sunglasses he had never seen him wear before for a moment before shoving his paw into some grocery bags. After some rummaging, a magazine came flying at the coyote’s face and splayed across it, wrapping around his head. Carter sputtered and pulled it off only to be greeted by the centerfold, Miss April. The fox had to have tits as big as her head! And, the hips to go with it. Carter had to swallow to keep the salivation from overflowing. 

Wait a tic. “You got me a girlie mag?” Carter asked the human incredulously. The beast shrugged at him and hauled his stuff to where he normally slept. Was that a tail? Carter rubbed his eyes and goggled at the tail. The human apparently noticed Carter’s attention turned around. He began unbuttoning his pants.

“Hey man, keep your pants on!” Carter shouted, but the beast did not listen. The coyote had no idea what it was up to, but he did not want a repeat of last night. The human the reached behind him and pulled off something. He tugged up and before him dangled a prosthetic tail with the end tied around a bag clip. Carter goggled incredulously, “A tail extension? You stole someone’s tail extension to wear?” The human snorted at him, coiled up the fake tail, and tossed it in his dufflebag. The human knew what made him look different and corrected it by stealing some poor Bob’s prosthetic tail? The human went back to sorting through his stuff. 

Carter saw bags from at least three different stores. Man, that human had been busy. There was no way that was a normal human. What the flying fuck, man? Carter was too sober for this shit. The coyote thrust his hand into his coat pocket and extracted the weed he had bought earlier today with his take. The human was not the only one who had been busy. Cheap wrapping paper unfurled, Carter started rolling himself the fattest blunt he could. It was rotund, like an obese caterpillar that would melt away his worries. 

The human continued undressing in front of him, and Carter tuned it out while he lit up. The smoke poured down his throat and into his lungs. The light burn seared inside of him, eating away at him inside out and with it, all of his concerns. The coyote slowly sucked in as much as his chest could hold. He held it all in until and counted mentally, getting lost somewhere after five and meandering around the number line until he began to sputter, cough, and then release. He managed to exhale properly, and Carter’s head spun. He crinkled his purchased bag of chips and began to stuff them into his mouth. He stared off into space, letting the feeling of calm and subtle euphoria flow through him.

Across from him, the human was naked and against all odds smelled clean. The powerful odor that lingered on humans left with his dirty clothes and settled into the neglected pile on the floor. He extracted from his bags new clean clothes. He unfolded a white cotton tee shirt and started to slide it over his head. The human was tall, broad-shouldered, and covered in lean muscle that rippled with a smooth slip-slide under his skin. Damn, Carter thought, must have been a show or fighting human at some point. Then again, Carter’s intoxicated mind thought, that cannot possibly be an ordinary human. Too smart. Damn, was it an alien? Fuck, he was sitting in the same room as an alien human. Fuck, don’t aliens anal probe you? Carter really really wanted to keep his ass virgin until the day he died.

Carter had just taken his third deep hit off the gigglestick when the human turned to face him, a cock that intimidated Carter more so than Vincent’s ever had swinging pendulously between his legs, folded his arms across his chest, and all Carter could do was shout, “Don’t probe my ass!”

“You know,” human said slowly, his voice was deep, rumbling, and scared Carter on some primordial level, causing his heart to sink into the pit of his stomach, “If you keep staring at me and not that porn I got you, I’m going to start doubting that ‘I’m not a fag’ spiel you were trying to sell yesterday.”

Carter blinked and put his blunt down, suddenly turned off of it. “A-are,” the coyote stammered out, “y-you an alien?”

“No, stupid,” the human said in deadpan, “You’re high. This is just a product of your stoner imagination. Human’s can’t talk.”

“Don’t give me that sarcastic shit,” Carter shouted, “Weed doesn’t do that!”

“It does if it’s laced with something nasty,” the human product of his imagination corrected, “You sure you’re not a fag, Carrie? This is a pretty homoerotic hallucination.”

“Fuck you,” Carter groused, “I hate that nickname.”

“You never introduced yourself,” the human said dryly.

“If you’re a product of my stoned out mind, why don’t you already know?”

“I’m a product of your subconscious; I don’t make the rules.” The human’s lip curled on one side, pulling into a contemptuous smirk.

Carter paused, unable to think of a retort as high as he was. Just when he thought life could not get any worse, he reached into his chip bag only to find nothing but salt and monosodium glutamate powder. Damn, Carter had not realized he ate them all. He sighed and looked up at the human was just now hiking up pants. “Carter,” he bit out in introduction, “Fuck man, how do you even do what you do? Tell me that, subconscious, how is a human able to find food, count money, go shopping, and use a fucking weapon to fucking kill fucking Vincent- Holy shit!” Carter began to hyperventilate and the human who thankfully had underwear on now stepped over and knelt down to pat him on the back. Somehow, the contact helped him calm down a bit.

“I’m smart,” the human said simply, “and people underestimate me.”

Carter gave him a skeptical look but nodded. “Yeah, some kind of genetic freak I take it?” he asked.

“Sounds a bit more plausible than aliens, I have to admit, Carter,” the human said with a shrug.

“So what now, are you going to haunt me and keep making things difficult for me?” Carter shouted at him.

“Woah there, buddy,” the human said, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed, “What, because I got rid of your rapist gay lover there?”

“I’m not a fa-” Carter began but was interrupted by the human.

“Shut it. I don’t fucking care whether you like dick, pussy, or if you get your jollies by pressing your ass into banana cream pies and crying all night,” the human said, jabbing his finger into Carter’s chest. It hurt and made the coyote hiss at the prod. “Just because you’re too stupid to see it, I’m going to tell you exactly where that road led because it is a well traveled road. That guy was going to hold that Terry guy over you for as long as he could and extort you for everything. Hell, even if you catered to his every demand and let him lock you into a gimp suit and carry you off to his fuck-hut sex-dungeon, he’d probably eventually tell Terry anyways, and then what?”

Carter was at a loss for words. That made a lot of sense, but he did not want to admit it.

“Now, if you want to get your shit together or go slurp up someone else’s cock-”  the human continued, shutting down Carter’s token protest against the attack on his sexuality with a glare, “-or puss, you do you. It’s not my problem. You don’t like me? Why are you even coming here? It’s not like I follow you around.”

The human snatched his bag up and stuffed his few belongings back in. He looked right at Carter and made faces at him, happy human, mad human, and timid human. His face split, mania leaking through his serrated smile and gleaming eyes. He rounded on his heel and walked out without a sound.

Carter coughed out the last bit of marijuana fumes that was clogging his lungs.