Foxbutt

By Phoenix Baker

Foxbutt is a furry story about a guy who is a fox. His name is Thomas, and he's always been a fox, but never noticed until today. His parents know he's a fox - his dad's one too - but they never told him, because they didn't want to worry him.

Thomas works at a game store, and if this had happened on any other day he would have just called in sick - but today is the biggest new release the world has ever known, the store is understaffed, he's gonna be late for work because his anatomy is so weird he can't figure out how to pee through it, and his coworker Lily is trying to ask him out on a date.

It's all a bit much for our boy Thomas, but I'm sure he'll get through it somehow.

Foxbutt is a novella-length furry erotica story intended for broadminded and silly adults.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Phoenix Baker
• Release date: Jul 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005629113

Phoenix Baker

Hello! I write smut. Or rather, I write happy, sex-positive stories that aren't afraid of the occasional bit of blatant humanity. When was the last time you saw a character in a novel stop mid-sentence to sneeze? Or walk into a room, immediately forget what the hell she went in there for, and wander around for a minute trying to remember what she was doing? These little malfunctions are a part of being alive, and I think we need to see more of them in our fiction. I hope that you enjoy my stories about malfunctioning humans who fall in love and do really weird things to each other.About me:I am kept warm and dry by a beautiful redhead, who keeps me in a little hutch at the bottom of her garden. I write my stories in the dirt with a stick, and then I sit on them until they hatch into ebooks. I give those ebooks to Amazon and Smashwords, and then people send me shiny pennies by abstracting them into ones and zeroes and pushing them to me through a big hose. I don't properly understand how it works, but it lets me buy more carrots, so that's okay.Amazon told me to write a proper biography like the guy who wrote "Angela's Ashes," but he uses his real name and has won awards, and he probably writes using a computer or something, not a stick. I haven't won any awards.

Book preview

Foxbutt

by Phoenix Baker

Copyright 2020

Smashwords Edition

Foxbutt

Thomas Fox, a young man of twenty, stirs at his alarm. It is a few seconds past 7:30 in the morning on a warm July day in the northern United States, and as he silences the trill, Thomas hears the sound of birdsong from his open window.

Unhurried, Thomas stretches - sensation focuses around his knees and back at first, a few minor muscle shifts move the tension into his neck, his shoulders, one at a time. His toes point downwards, his hands above his head.

Outside, the sunrise's dew is still wet, barely beginning to evaporate. Lazily, Thomas reaches downwards, moving into a second verse of the stretch, feeling a warm, damp spot on the sheets around the tip of his erection. In the same stretching motion, he pushes himself downwards with his right hand, provoking a tight ache around the base of his shaft.

Thomas' penis feels different.

Thomas reaches beneath the sheets and takes hold of himself.

Thomas opens his eyes. Something is desperately wrong. He throws back the sheets, and gasps.

His penis is a violent reddish pink, bulging outwards at the base.

Holy shit, something bit me in my sleep, he thinks. Something venomous and horny.

Convinced of a nightmare, Thomas reaches up to pinch himself hard in the cheek - the pads of his fingers find a stranger's face, elongated jaw, some kind of thick soft beard.

Thomas screws his eyes shut. The birds outside, oblivious, continue to sing.

Thomas waits for the nightmare to be over. He takes several deep breaths, feels himself relaxing.

The nightmare was of me waking up - how am I gonna know when it's done?

Thomas opens his eyes, very slowly, and looks down at his body.

The fuck, he whispers.

Thomas is covered from head to toe in thick fur. His belly and chest are blinding white, fading through orange to a reddish-brown at his sides and legs.

Twitching and dancing between his thighs is a long, bushy tail.

Nope, says Thomas. Nope, don't have time for dreams like this, gonna be late for work. He closes his eyes and slaps himself, twice, across the muzzle.

That's a muzzle.

And it hurt.

Thomas opens his eyes again.

He's still all fuzzy.

Thomas blinks, and reaches for his phone. His hand is bizarre - furred on the back, the pads of his fingers bare, palms very soft. He opens the camera app, selects the front-facing camera, and aims it towards himself.

A fox's head stares back at him, the expression tired, bemused, the fur ruffled and flattened on the left side, where he slept.

He wiggles his ears. They twitch, revolving backwards, pointing in different directions, acting bizarrely silly. Almost mocking.

Thomas freezes. His tail continues moving of its own accord, swishing, twitching between his buttocks.

It tickles.

No, some fucking camera filter, he whispers, reaching up to feel his face, that's what it is.

He feels fur. A muzzle. He bares his teeth - pointy fangs, a long tongue.

Thomas leaps out of bed and runs to the bathroom, perhaps trying to leave the alien body in bed, with all the other crazy dreams where it belongs. He yanks open the door and looks in the mirror.

His phone wasn't lying.

Thomas is a fox.

Thomas moved out of his parents' house and into his own apartment only a few weeks ago - were this another sort of emergency, he'd probably call Lily, or Jason, or Max. He finds himself ringing his dad.

Come on, he whispers, holding the phone awkwardly halfway up his head, the speaker not reaching his ear. He looks in the mirror, readjusts - if he holds the phone so that his mouth is at the speaker, his crazy ear is too high for it.

He frowns. A twitch, and his ear folds downwards, covering the top of the phone.

Good morning Thomas, says his father's voice, shockingly loud. Thomas winces and dials down the volume, looking away from the mirror and down at his own body.

Dad, s-something really weird's happening, he falters, not knowing how to continue. I'm gonna video-call you, okay?

Okay, son, says his father, calm. Talk to you in a moment.

Thomas hangs up, opens the messenger app, calls. His father doesn't pick up immediately - Thomas waits three or four heartbeats before the blurry, video-compressed outline of his father appears, head resting on a pillow. He can see his mother's hair in the side of the picture, an eye sneaking into frame.

So tell me, son, says Dad, what's wrong?

Lurk ap myee, says Thomas, tears welling up. Augh ghrawd...

Thomas, says Dad calmly, stop looking at your own video feed and look at me.

Thomas drags his eyes down from the little window top right of the screen, and looks at his father, whose video compression is catching up and filling in details.

Thomas stares, and doesn't say anything.

It's okay, Tom, says Dad. You're still our boy, and we love you very dearly, and will help you in these changes you're going through.

WHAT THE HELL?! cries Thomas.

Tom, try to stay calm if you can.

"What do you mean, calm down?! Thomas looks up at his outgoing video feed. Wre're browff fawxsses an' I can'ph hrreven hhalk pbwropberwry..."

Tom, look at me again.

Thomas does as he's told. What the hell's going on?! What happened to us?

Tom, son, how does a caterpillar walk without tripping over all those legs?

It doesn't think about it, says Thomas.

Exactly, grins the fox that has replaced Thomas' father. He smiles at his mother, off to his left, before turning back to the camera. You've been talking through that muzzle since all you could say was Mom, you're only faltering now because common sense says you shouldn't be able to make these sounds with this mouth. Don't look at your own mouth while you're trying to speak, that's the first lesson.

Thomas slides down the wall. His furry butt hits the floor with a thump. "Dad, please start making sense."

Give it here, comes Mom's voice. Dad obliges, and Thomas' phone is filled with the face of his mother - reassuringly human. Tom! she says, "there you are! It's so good to see you."

It's good to s-see you too, mom, says Thomas, his chest beginning to hitch, tears soaking into the fur beneath his eyes. Mom, is Dad a fox?

His mother smiles. Yes, honey, he sure is.

"Am I a fox?"

Yes, honey, and so is granddad.

Thomas watches his mother's face blur, trying not to cry. He hasn't cried in half a decade. He's a man, with his own apartment, his own job, independence.

His eyes crinkle half-closed, his left hand reaches up to cover his muzzle, and he cries.

Oh, sweetie, says his mother, softly. It's okay.

Listen to your mother, son, says his father. Nothing's wrong. This is a happy day. I'm proud of you.

Put dad back on, breathes Thomas, weakly. His mother obliges. Dad, says Thomas, what made us change?

He looks upon the unfamiliar face of his father. Nothing, son, he says, in the same deep voice he'd remembered since before he could remember

Reviews for Foxbutt

[Chameleon YT · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Really good book. Love the concept of the story. Very creative