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“Wild Thing” by Dirt Coyote (part 1 of 2) [18+]

[18+] A story about loving yourself: where you’re from, where you’re at, and where you’re going, no matter how far.

Today’s story is the first of two parts of “Wild Thing” by Dirt Coyote, who, when he’s not causing all sorts of trouble on twitter, is writing a novel, a novella, a series, and short furry fiction. His story featured on The Voice of Dog, “I’m Just Your Stud” was nominated for Coyotl’s Best Short Story of 2021. Find him at DirtCoyote on Twitter for future updates.

Read for you by Rob MacWolf — werewolf hitchhiker.

With Ardy Hart, a wolf of all trades, Madison Scott-Clary, whose tail is behind her, and Sigma, whose eyes are on the moon.

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https://thevoice.dog/episode/wild-thing-by-dirt-coyote-part-1-of-2-18

Transcript
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Today's story concerns adult subject matter for mature listeners.

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If that's not your cup of tea,

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or there are youngsters listening,

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please skip this one

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and come back for another story another time.

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You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.

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This is Rob MacWolf, your fellow traveler,

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and Today’s story is the first of two parts of “Wild Thing”

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by Dirt Coyote, who, when he’s not causing all sorts of trouble on twitter,

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is writing a novel,

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a novella, a series,

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and short furry fiction.

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His story featured on The Voice of Dog,

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“I’m Just Your Stud” was nominated for Coyotl’s Best Short Story of 2021.

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Find him at DirtCoyote on Twitter

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for future updates.

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Please enjoy:

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“Wild Thing” by DirtCoyote,

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Part 1 of 2 I shouldn't have been here at this party.

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This marble fox doesn't fit in and

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everyone knows it. There's

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a group of guys just standing next to me, joking and laughing their asses off loudly.

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It's embarrassing that I'm so close, and yet, galaxies away from the conversation.

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The room gradually shifts

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in red, orange, blue, yellow, and green lights.

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Back and forth, almost dizzying me

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as I stand around stupid with a

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cup in my paws. I don't know anyone here and my invite was done out of pity.

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I'd just been sitting in the cafeteria at my college when a hare mistook me for someone else

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and felt too ashamed to rescind the invitation.

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But, I put on some nice clothes, at least, what I think is nice:

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Jeans and a white cargo shirt.

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I'm just glad I took out my fucking pocket protector before getting here.

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Fuck, I'm so lame.

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Why did I even come here

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if I was just gonna be sipping booze and standing alone with my tail curled around my waist.

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I scan the room, thinking it might be my time to thank the host

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and get back to my place in the dorms.

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There's a stack of anime DVDs waiting for me

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that I've only seen a

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hundred times before.

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Watching them live their insane lives is more than enough adventure for me.

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That's when I notice him.

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Another marble fox standing across the room staring at me.

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His eyes are piercing, the same crystal blue eyes that I have,

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just resting on me and me alone.

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At least, I think so.

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He could be eyeing me, waiting for me to move away from the drink table to get his own.

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I shift a little to the side,

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his gaze following

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and I know for certain it's me he's looking at.

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Even though there's a wolf by his side, clearly talking to him as he sloshes a drink back and forth,

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he's more interested in me.

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A smirk is stuck to his muzzle and it's intimidating.

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He's got on a loose fitting tank top that's barely hanging off his shoulders. It's so long, covering most of his khaki shorts,

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that it could be described as ill-fitting

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if he wasn't pulling it off so well.

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What sticks out the most is the flower crown on his head.

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I don't recognize the pedals,

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and they seem too large to be real.

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They shift colors with the lights of the room, just like the white and gray on his muzzle.

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A dazed look hangs in his eyes as he stares at me,

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and like the rest of his demeanor,

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he just seems so laid back and chill.

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Like a Wild Thing.

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His look becomes a little oppressive

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and I shift uncomfortably underneath it.

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I'm ready to just leave,

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scamper away from this fox that looks too cool to be interested in me,

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but wait! The fox says something to the wolf,

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dismissing himself casually

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as he starts towards me.

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I can't think of a reason why.

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My glasses feel crooked on my muzzle and I adjust them like the dork I am.

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Trying to recover, I bring the drink in my paw up to my muzzle, and take a sip

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only for most of it to dribble over my

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chin. Why can't I do anything cool?

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I brush the liquid off

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with the back of my wrist,

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probably looking worse than before

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but the Wild Thing just chuckles.

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He's sleek, wirey,

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flowing between the other guests like wind.

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His fur pattern is similar to mine, very close as it glows red, orange, blue, yellow, and green

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with the shifting lights.

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"Hi," I let out in a whisper,

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and then realizing he probably can't hear me, I say too loud,

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"Hello!" He keeps that same smirk and says back, just loud enough,

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"Hey there." Trying at a

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conversation, I point up at his crown and say,

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"I like your flowers.

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flowers." The Wild Thing nods politely and softly replies,

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"Thanks. I had a lot of fun making it.

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it." There's a pause as his gaze

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moves from mine for the first time,

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taking a second to

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eye me up and down.

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I feel underdressed, but he seems to like what he's looking at.

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He's a little close,

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closer than I'm used to,

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but I can't get my legs to move back.

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With my free paw,

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I brush my tail around my waist

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to relax until it unwinds behind me.

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The Wild Thing steps beside to the drink table

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and grabs a cup. Despite all the attention flustering me a second ago,

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his immediate dismissal of me feels empty.

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He's just fixing himself a cocktail,

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not turning to me.

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It's at that moment that I realize,

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I'm the one staring at him now

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and feel a bit abashed.

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I should've known he wasn't interested in me.

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A sudden flash of embarrassment and anger in myself strafes through my core and I decided it was time to leave.

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Just as my foot makes the first step towards the door,

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a paw grabs hold of my arm.

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I turn to see the Wild Thing holding me

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while tipping the cup into his muzzle,

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guzzling the liquid down audibly.

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I let him hold me,

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his relaxed grip not too forceful,

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until he finishes,

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sitting the drink down onto the table.

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"If you wanna leave,

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I know someplace we can go,"

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he says with alcohol fumes cascading off his breath,

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wrinkling my nose.

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His words are so confident,

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without any hesitation or thought.

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He lets go of me

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and flicks his head to the side towards a hallway.

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I peer over him, down the dark passage he wants to lead me.

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Then I look back to the front door

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that'll take me to safety.

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I decide and my muzzle is drawn back to the Wild Thing.

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He's so handsome,

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and though the other marble fox looks similar to me, he's so much more.

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I don't just want to be with him.

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I want to be him,

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and I want to gain a fraction of what he has just through

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osmosis alone. So, trying to imitate his coolness, I say,

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"Sure." Without another word, he turns to the hallway and walks away.

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I'm left standing for a second,

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and only with the swish of his thick flowing tail,

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do I realize I'm supposed to be following.

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I don't even set down my drink,

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trying to catch up to him in large steps.

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While he ambles through the bodies, men and women my age flirting with each other carelessly,

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I'm left awkwardly stumbling between them.

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An Oops, I’m Sorry here and an Excuse Me, Pardon Me there,

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I manage to just barely

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follow behind. It feels like there's eyes on me, not just judging my clumsiness.

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My head gets the better of me

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and I hear voices

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questioning how I was the one

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who the Wild Thing approached.

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He’s so out of my league, and yet,

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I’m the one he wants.

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I know, because a single eye turns back to make sure I’m following.

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He doesn't take the first door, like he knows where he's going.

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I think he might live here.

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Like he just plucked his prey from the crowd and was dragging it to his den.

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I don't mind. I'd gladly be his, if he had me.

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It's the third room

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before he grabs the handle and twists,

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the door opening as silent as his footsteps.

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There’s no lights, but the glim glow of the moon illuminates the room.

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He turns, inviting me in,

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and I feel a little comfort that he seems so eager I join him.

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I step inside and he doesn't hesitate to pull me into a kiss.

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Both of his paws are on the collar of my shirt, stretching it as he forces his lips against mine.

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His claws tear at the fabric, and I'm worried for a second that he might just shred my clothes rather than let me take them off.

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My paws straddle his sides,

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holding him to steady myself as he pulls us towards a bed.

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The Wild Thing sure lives up to the name I've given him, because he is after me like a

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beast. He lets go of my shirt just to slide a paw up underneath it and start yanking it off of me.

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Even as the kiss breaks momentarily to pull it over my head,

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he is relentlessly back to nibbling my lip.

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My huffs are hard like his, our breath mixing as we tangle paws around each other.

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I fling his shirt to the side,

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my pants come off and are kicked aimlessly away.

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I've never done this before,

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but my instincts take over.

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It's not long before I'm down to my tighty whities and he's wearing nothing but what god gave him.

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And his flower crown, of course

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I'm pushed backward,

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a worried yipe escapes my muzzle fearing I'm about to hit the floor.

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The soft squeak of a mattress underneath me breaks my fall

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and I'm left scrambling to grab the sheets.

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I try to hoist myself back up,

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but a paw lands on my chest and holds me down.

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I'm worried for a second this might be too rough,

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but the claws tracing sensually underneath the fur on my belly

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tells me it’s exactly as rough as I'd ever wanted it.

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Just fast! A warm wet tongue

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wraps around my length,

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and I lean my head back deep into the comforter.

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My teeth are grit, and it's all I can do to keep myself from moaning out loudly over the noise of the party.

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His lips draw back and forth against my cock and the

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warm breath of his own moans wash over me.

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One paw stays on my stomach,

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digging in lines perfectly over my sensitive spots.

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The other is handling my balls, rolling them around and squeezing them gently between his fingers.

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He's getting me close, and it's happening too fast.

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I can feel him edging me towards the point of no return without even taking me in his muzzle.

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A hot embarrassment is flooding over my mind, not sure how to tell him to slow down or stop.

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Though, if I’m being honest. I desperately don't want him to slow or stop

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anything. Before I can though, he pulls his lips off my cock and stands to his feet.

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"You should be wet enough now,"

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he says, extending a paw for me.

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I'm not sure what he's talking about and I stare up at him dumbly,

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my brain still floating in my head.

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He shakes his outstretched paw again,

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and I blink before taking it.

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I'm off the bed and he takes my spot,

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crawling up on all fours and holding his tail up with a paw.

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His backside is fully presented to me,

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and I realize now what I’m supposed to be doing.

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"Are you sure?" I ask,

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already crawling up behind him.

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He only gives a nod

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and flicks his tail from right to left.

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I touch the tip of my prick against his hole,

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the warmth sending shivers up my spine.

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With only my spit and pre for lube,

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I lean forward and enter him.

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A soft purr lets me know that I'm slick enough to be pleasurable.

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One paw goes on his back and

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the other grabs his hips as I inch closer to him.

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My knees drag on the sheets. I can

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barely see him, but I don't need to.

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Just need to feel him;

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feel his hole wrapping around my cock as I push myself inside.

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There's a moan of pleasure,

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and I'm not sure if it's me or him.

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Our pants and huffs become one,

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just over the slapping sound of my thrusts.

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I instinctively lean over him,

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fucking his ass doggy style.

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My paw wraps around his length and I begin pumping him to my thrusts.

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Each pull and push

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sends waves of serotonin through my brain.

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His cock is slick in my grip,

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pre stickying my paw pads and the fur between my fingers.

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I dip my muzzle low, nibbling against the other marble fox's nape.

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A sense of pride envelopes me as I realize I,

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me alone, am the one

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taming this Wild Thing underneath.

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My climax is quickly approaching, and I know his is too.

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He’s leaking like a hose,

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pre covering my fur and the bed.

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I tighten my paw around his shaft, pumping him faster

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as I get close to shooting inside him.

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He calls out something in his moans,

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and I think it's my name, though I'm sure I didn't tell him that.

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His reward is my teeth

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sinking into the fur

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at the back of his neck.

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I feel his cock spurting

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just as I hit the point of no return.

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I knock my knot against him, once,

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twice, three times,

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but the spit isn't enough to push past his ring.

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It doesn't matter. My eyes squeeze tight, and I orgasm right

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into the other fox's insides.

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Cum shoots deep into him,

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lining his rectum with my seed.

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He's moaning loudly,

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even with me biting down hard

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(or because). My paw loosens,

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and I slump over him.

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The Wild Thing holds me up on his back as my balls empty into him.

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There's a sureness that I filled him up so much, my seed is leaking

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out his backside.

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Carefully, he lowers himself until he's on his belly,

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and I let go of him just as my paw sinks into the puddle he's made.

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I pull out, rolling over onto the bed and taking my paw with me.

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It pulls free from underneath him,

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wiping most of his spunk onto the sheets

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and his fur. With my back on the bed,

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I stare up to the ceiling and wonder just who I am.

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Maybe it's the afterglow settling in my head,

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but I'm feeling particularly proud of myself.

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I'd never imagined I could just follow a stranger into a room and have sex with them.

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I'd never so much as given a handjob before.

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Part of me wants to ask if it was as good for him as it was for me, but that sounds stupid.

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Still, I should at least say something,

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and the only thing that comes to mind is,

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"That was amazing.

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amazing." and when I think about it, it’s not the dumbest thing I’\ve ever said.

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He hasn't said anything back.

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I observe my surroundings,

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seeing a lamp on a nightstand

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next to me and flicking it on.

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It’s only then that I notice it.

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He's laying on his side, turned away from me and I see the pattern on his back.

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His marble fur, gray, white, auburn, orange, and red,

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is so similar to mine.

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And there is this sun kissed patch of fur on his shoulder that is just too familiar.

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Way too fucking familiar.

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My heart sinks in my chest, and I realize that he's way too similar to me.

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I just fucked my cousin.

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Of course, an idiot like me would abso-fucking-lutely accidently lose his virginity to his own cousin.

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The taboo instantly washes over me, and dread fills my soul. Before I can think of what to do next,

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possibly sneak off, if not run,

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grab my clothes,

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get the fuck out of here,

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and avoid any family reuinions for the rest of my life, he says,

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patiently, "I'm not

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your cousin." He's not looking at me,

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still turned away.

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If he's not my cousin, then—

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"I'm not a lost twin brother

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either." Is he? "—And I'm not reading your mind. Jeez, would you

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just settle down for a second,"

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he says dismissively.

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With a nervous smile on my muzzle, I say anyways,

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"If you’re not reading my mind, you're not making a good case for yourself.

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yourself." That's when he turns over to face me,

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and I finally see it.

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I see me. It’s actually

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me! He's got a sly smirk slapped on his face, just as my muzzle is twisting into a frown.

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This cannot be happening.

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"Yeah, I'm you. Just a

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little older," he says, reassuringly.

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I study him, my eyes going down to his body.

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He can't be me. Not only is he missing my glasses, but he's just too perfect to be me,

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too calm and collected. Too amazing.

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He's the Wild Thing,

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and I'm—well, I'm just

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me. "If you're who you say you are,

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then you'll be able to answer something

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I'd only know," I say, trying to think through my thoughts.

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I find it; a memory that's only true to me.

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A little marble fox comes to mind, and I see him

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gathering dirt and worms

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to put in his elementary school teacher’s

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purse. I was such a miscreant and I'm about

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ready to ask him to repeat the story,

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but his muzzle is pulling back wider than before.

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And I see it, in his eyes,

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the reflection of my own muzzle,

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pulling back at the thought of the memory.

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We're reliving the experience together.

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"How?" I ask, not needing any proof.

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Just answers. Out of nowhere,

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he extends his paw for me

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and I see it sitting on his pads.

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It's a multicolored pill,

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shimmering in the dark of the room.

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He's offering it to me, and I know I’m supposed to take it.

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Before I reach out,

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I've got only one more question:

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"Is it safe?" He gives me a wink, and says,

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"It's worth it." I pluck it from his paw and hold it to my eye.

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It radiates in red, orange, blue, yellow, and green

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along with every color in-between.

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The Wild Thing gets comfortable,

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resting his head on a paw patiently.

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His smug look tells me

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he knows what I'm going to do next,

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so I take the date with destiny, and plop it into my maw.

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It doesn't taste like anything, but it does

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hum on my tongue. There's

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a slight buzz of electricity or something,

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and I hesitate to swallow. I consciously

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have to will myself to get it down, and I feel it roll against my throat.

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Even sitting at the bottom of my stomach, I can still fill its pulse inside me.

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"Well?" I ask, expecting something to have happened by now.

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The Wild Thing chuckles and says,

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"Oh right." Then, faster than I could have anticipated,

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he snatches the glasses off the bridge of my muzzle.

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"I wanted these back."

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"Hey!" I exclaim, ready to take them off his face.

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Just as my arm reaches out to grab them, I watch in horror

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as my paw disintegrates.

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I stare down at where my arm used to be, jaw trembling.

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I turn back up to him,

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that smug look annoying the shit out of me.

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I say the only thing that comes to mind,

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"oh, you mother fucker

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—" Reality folds in on itself, like a book being slapped shut an inch short of my nose.

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It becomes apparent that my body is no longer my vessel.

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I've been split into trillions upon trillions of atoms and the only thing that exists of me is my consciousness.

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I clutch desperately at anything,

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but with no arms and no clue of what to do,

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I'm just thrown about between time and space.

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My thoughts are the only thing that are held together,

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but even thinking

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feels like walking miles between ideas.

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Time itself is lost on me as my consciousness flings through the void I exist in.

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I try hard, grasping to remember what I am or was or will be,

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putting myself back together like scooping sand on a beach.

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And all at once, I find my foothold.

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I am born. My name is Thomas Forewind.

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My father, a serf,

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kisses me on the forehead as he lays eyes on me the first time.

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I'm a boy, a wolf cub,

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and I tend the fields with my family.

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I grow into quite the rambunctious teen.

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With my friends, I dance at the slightest start of a beat and when I sing, it's louder than anyone else in the tavern.

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Anything to impress the barmaids and my friends.

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It's joyous for a time,

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and I couldn't imagine anything better than this.

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There's a raid and in the span of a few hours, all of my friends and family are gone.

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As smoke rises from smoldering buildings, I am left orphaned,

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angry, and hollowed.

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I am asked to fight for my kingdom against these raiding neighbors,

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and I do so gladly.

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With my shield wrapped around my arm, I clash against a leopard coming at me.

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He's an older man, maybe a veteran and he's confident.

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He swings his sword at me with precise thrusts,

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but I knock his blows away easily.

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I am good at this.

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He dies by the swipe of my blade,

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and I look for the next opponent.

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Ten more come at me,

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one after the other,

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and there’s ten corpses I’m left walking away from.

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I'm reveling in my prowess.

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Who'd have thought I

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could be a killer?

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I approach a fox,

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a boy like me. He's terrified,

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already seeing what I can do.

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The other teen throws down his sword in surrender, stumbling backwards as I approach.

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All I do is smile,

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thinking this one would be the easiest.

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I raise my sword,

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ready to strike him on the ground,

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but I recognize the fear on the vulpine’s muzzle.

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It looks like…me?

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I realize just what I've become.

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I don't want to be this!

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I'm not Thomas Forewind!

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I am…I was something else.

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This doesn't make sense,

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and reality falls apart again.

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Thomas Forewind disappears on the battlefield,

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and is labeled a disserter,

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never to be seen or heard of again.

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I am tossed again in the ocean,

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and I feel my thoughts swimming against a current.

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My consciousness is thrown about, and I look for something to stand on.

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But without a body

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or any physical manifestation,

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it's like trying to stand on the waves itself.

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I'm a skunk now. My parents name me Julia after my grandmother.

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I like helping people,

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and I'm gonna be a doctor someday.

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The path is so clear to me,

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all throughout highschool and college, and I don't waver the slightest.

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They put me in the ER, and I'm ready to save some lives.

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But a gas leak across town causes an explosion on my first night.

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There's too many people coming in all at once,

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and the hospital is immediately overwhelmed.

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We're short beds, short staff, and I am made to pick who I can treat and

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who I can't. A bull,

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barely recognizable under his singed fur, grabs my arm and begs me to help him.

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I can barely understand him over the dozens of screams filling the hall.

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This isn't right.

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It comes rushing back to me,

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and I wish it wasn’t happening right now when I’m needed most.

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I'm not a doctor.

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I can't save him.

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I can't save anyone.

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The last thing I see before I'm swallowed back into oblivion is the bull’s eyes

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staring blankly into nothing.

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The only thing left of Julia

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is an unsolved mystery tv special

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of a doctor vanishing

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in the middle of an ER.

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Again, I'm caught between the planes of reality.

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I feel it now though.

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It's not an ocean of water, but the area beneath the zero-point of space itself.

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The sea of gluons pass me back and forth like dough in the fingers of a baker.

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They rise up like bubbles to the surface,

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and I follow them

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once more to existence.

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When I am young, I give myself the name Wynn.

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My parents think this little non-binary bear cub is going through a phase,

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but it sticks all throughout my life,

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and they learn to accept it.

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I am lucky. It's when I'm in the junior ranger program that I learn my first crush early:

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Nature. I love it more than anything

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and it's enough to satisfy my needs.

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In the trees, the flowers, the red, orange, blue, yellow, and green of its body, do I know it cares for me as well.

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There’s no other person for me.

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Its love is unrelenting and a hundred times more than what I or anyone else could ever express.

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My first and last job is a park ranger,

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sworn to preserve nature's beauty for future generations.

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generations.Though the national park program throws me all over the country,

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I finally settle on a green valley where the sun sets right at the end of a canyon.

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I take pride in my work,

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and even when I'm pushed into retirement,

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I stay closeby. I take one last hike up the mountains,

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forcing my bones to make this final trek.

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There's a boulder I'm able to climb up,

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and I rest with my legs dangling over the edge.

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Life's been good to me,

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and there’s no other way I would have done this.

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With my finishing breath,

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I let out a sigh

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and give myself back to the ether.

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Wynn disappears just as the sun sets.

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I am once more. And it's me this time.

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I’m sitting atop of the void, floating as mere consciousness in space.

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The sun's warmth, even a

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dozen million miles away,

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wraps my existence in a blanket.

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With a level head, I see my atoms scattered through the whole of the universe.

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Like a child with building blocks, I put myself back together in the recess of space.

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I admit, it takes me a little longer than I wanted:

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just a few decades of pulling piece by piece to me and stacking them on top of one another.

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When I get to my eyes,

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I can see the slight astigmatism

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and choose to leave it,

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putting each part of myself back together the way it was intended

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until I can see again.

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As a marble fox floating in nothingness, I ponder what I've done

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and what I shall do next.

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There's a momentary flash of guilt that bubbles up.

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Thomas, Julia, and Wynn were all created because I

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couldn't find control

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and they lived real lives with real people,

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only for me to have pulled them from existence.

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I'd wished the Wild Thing would have warned me,

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but I worry if that would've changed my decision.

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Instead, I have to live with and as them,

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taking their memories and their feelings along for

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the rest of my journey.

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But I remember me

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too, and I remember I had my own ambitions to fulfill.

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And like a dork, the first thing I think of is to see a black hole.

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I'd always been fascinated with sci-fi, and imagined

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what it'd be like to witness one.

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Now, as what I've become,

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there's nothing holding me back. I say goodbye to my sun, giving it a small wave,

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before turning my attention to the galaxies beyond my own, and push myself forward.

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Space and light become a blur,

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and I'm shot millions of light-years across the universe until I see the black hole I want.

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I approach it, moving through the void as easy as swimming through a pool.

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Planets and stars wizz past until I'm safely in viewing range

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of Messier-87. It's aweing at first.

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I can see the acceleration disk

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burning brighter than anything I'd ever imagined.

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The raw destruction and power

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holds me for a few hours,

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but I'll tell you this:

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You'd not believe how fast you'd go from,

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"Wow, a black hole" to

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"Okay, black holes are kinda boring.

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boring." I clap my paws against my hips,

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rolling my shoulders awkwardly.

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Part of me feels like I need to excuse myself to be polite,

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but it's just a black hole.

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It doesn't really

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care how entertaining it has to be.

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So, I point myself to

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another direction,

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wave stupidly anyways,

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and I find a space bar

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out a few thousand years in the future

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to manifest myself inside.

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They don’t actually call it a space bar,

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cause that’d be dumb.

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It's just a bar that happens to be floating in space

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called Rico's Dive and Dine.

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Freighters stop at it to refuel and to relax between asteroid belts and planets.

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There's a small crowd tonight,

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and all stop and stare at the naked marble fox standing in the center of the room.

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Oops, forgot to put together my clothes.

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My presence shocks some in the crowd, but a boar in a denim jacket says,

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"Someone's been going through Sally's personal stash again.

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again." Everyone laughs, and the big man stands from his seat at the bar to approach me.

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For as large as he is,

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he doesn't seem to be mad

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nor does he try to intimidate me in any way;

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just holds up a paw and asks me if I'm alright.

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I flick my tail over my privates and nod sheepishly,

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the attention a little too much.

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He asks what I'm on,

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high or drunk, and I chuckle and say I'm sober.

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Just forgot my clothes.

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Then he looks towards the entrance, trying to see if I came in with anyone.

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He asks me which spaceship I’m piloting or where my crew was, and I shake my head.

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I say, "I am my own vessel,"

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because not only is that the truth,

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but it also sounds pretty badass.

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That just gets another roar of laughter and they find me a table to sit at. A few come and ask me questions, but there's not many answers I can provide.

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I just wanted to be here

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and I showed up. The freight drivers manage to wrangle together some clothes for me,

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and now I'm wearing the loose fitting tank top

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and cargo shorts

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the Wild Thing was wearing.

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Destiny is unfolding in front of me.

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Feeling confident,

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I make conversation with the crowd and learn about their worlds.

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They pass me drinks as I explain my journey to get here,

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and everyone in the bar is invested.

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I think about my time as Thomas, the medieval wolf,

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and I remember him at a tavern surrounded

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as such. With the alcohol in my system, I think back at a song Thomas sang that really riled the crowd. I thump my glass and stomp my foot, setting the beat while starting the first verse. The men

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and women follow along, clapping their hands and cheering loud as I jump on the bar and start prancing around in my song.

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The whole crowd sings along to my chorus

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and my heart is filled with their voices.

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At the end, I repeat the last lines alone and am met with an applause so loud, it shakes the entire station.

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Why didn't anyone tell me it could be this fun

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being the center of attention?

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The bar settles down

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and I turn to small conversation with the patrons.

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I feel Thomas in me, no longer empty and angry; no longer

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the killer I imagined him to be. He's proud,

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but it's not him.

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It's me. I'm Thomas,

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Julia, Wynn, and the pride I feel isn't for someone else.

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It's for myself.

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That warmth I feel inside is

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too much, the energy pulsating in me needing release.

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I hug the boar, thanking everyone for their generosity and kindness,

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and then turn to the universe

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and find a spot to land.

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This was the the first of two parts of “Wild Thing” by Dirt Coyote,

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read for you by Rob MacWolf, werewolf hitchhiker,

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with help from Ardy Hart, a wolf of all trades, as Thomas,

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Madison Scott-Clary, whose tail is behind her, as Julia,

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and Sigma, whose eyes are on the moon,

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as Wynn. Tune in next time to find out how our fox journeys with his new powers

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and the lengths he has to go

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to become The Wild Thing.

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As always, you can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

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or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

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Thank you for listening

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to The Voice of Dog.

About the Podcast

Show artwork for The Voice of Dog
The Voice of Dog
Furry stories to warm the ol' cockles, read by Rob MacWolf and guests. If you have a story that would suit the show, you can get in touch with @VoiceOfDog@meow.social on Mastodon, @voiceofdog.bsky.social on Blue Sky, or @Theodwulf on Telegram.

About your host

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Khaki