[18+]

Two husbands invite a love triangle, a dominatrix and a fetish pup for a kinky Christmas dinner. Banned from the Hallmark channel.

 Today’s story is “A Very Fucking Christmas” by Pascal Farful, who is a writer, musician, fursuiter and photographer. Most of his writing is currently unpublished, though can be found on his FurAffinity and SoFurry pages.

Today's story is read for you by B. P. Rugger, the ineffable Moo Moon.

Today I'm reading an adult story for mature listeners.

If that's not your cup of tea,

or if there are youngsters listening,

you can skip this one

and I'll have a new story for you next time.

You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.

I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,

and Today’s story is

“A Very Fucking Christmas” by Pascal Farful,

who is a writer, musician,

fursuiter and photographer.

Most of his writing is currently unpublished,

though can be found on his FurAffinity and SoFurry pages.

Please enjoy “A Very Fucking Christmas”

by Pascal Farful Copy and paste your story here:

“Fuck.” “What’s up?” “Got Wham!’d already.”

Harvey grumbled, looking up at the PA system in the shop,

phone clutched in one hand.

“Lasted longer than last year.”

Sam replied. “That was,

what, 5 hours?” “Yup. That’s what you get for working a retail shift.”

The mouse mumbled.

“Hey look, I’ve got the tablecloth,

it’s gaudy as shit,

but I’ll pick up some lunch on the way ‘round.”

December. Christmas season.

The lack of snow,

the deals, the same 5 songs played over and over and over and over and over again on the radio.

The holiday circus had begun.

Sam and Harvey’s second Christmas together since their marriage had been augmented by a vast dining table that Sam had spent the day trying to navigate into place in their small house. -

“What d’ya think?”

Sam grinned as Harvey walked into the room, tablecloth clutched under his arm,

a bag of take away in the other.

The mouse eyed the large piece of furniture.

Big enough to seat a half dozen or more people.

Oak, or something similar.

“Yeah it’s… big.” The mouse said,

placing the bag down and unfolding the tablecloth,

the squirrel helping him drape it over the thing.

“Just wait until you see the chairs.”

“They’re coming tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, they didn’t have enough room in the van for both.

both.” The squirrel mumbled pulling one of the burgers from the bag.

“It’s the only inheritance I’m getting, so I’m making the most of it.”

Those words hung in the air for a while,

interrupted only by the pair eating.

“So, which end do you want?”

Sam asked with a grin.

“You thinking we sit at each end?”

“Yeah, I’ll get us some megaphones so we can speak to each other.”

The squirrel grinned.

“Or a couple walkie talkies.”

“You should have said,

they had some cheap ones in the bargain bin.”

Harvey muttered, stepping around to the end closest to the window.

Silence hung in the room for a while,

both men staring at the large wooden table,

cloth now spread across it.

“Look, if it’s going to get in the way, I’m happy to sell it.

It… doesn’t exactly have sentimental quality.”

Sam began. “No, no it’s not that, it’s more that uhh…”

Harvey put his paws on the table and grunted.

“It’s just going to be me and you this year, ain’t it?

My folks haven’t exactly been ringing our phone off the hook to come speak to me again, y’know?”

The mouse grumbled.

“Last year it was cute,

me and you huddled around the TV, eating flapjacks and watching old VHS tapes.

But now we have this table I…

can’t help but feel like that gulf where a family would go is getting…

bigger.” The squirrel nodded,

drumming his fingers.

“Are you thinking you’d want to,

like, adopt or something?”

Harvey shook his head.

“Not like that, I’m thinking more like…

get our friends together and do our own Christmas thing.”

He said, looking back up at his husband.

“I mean, if we’re not going to have family here, we could at least have friends, y’know?”

Sam nodded. “Well, I suspect most folks’ll have something planned, but I guess we could ask around.”

The squirrel said. “You know anyone who might be up for it?”

“I mean, I could ask around in the office I suppose.”

The mouse grunted.

“I do know a bunch of folk who I’d much rather be around, but they’re probably not…

traditional Christmas dinner kind of folk.”

The squirrel snorted and waved his paw.

“Non-traditional sounds like just what I’d want.”

He said. “The kinda thing that’d make my folks wish they’d never given us this thing.”

Harvey nodded. “I’ll ask Ritchie and Jack, and see if anyone from the kink club wants in.”

“Sounds fun, I know some raunchy folk at the gym, they might be up for it too~”

Sam suggested. “Anyone else?”

“I can only think of two other people to ask.”

Harvey said. “Go on?”

“Well, I do happen to know a dominatrix and her pup.”

Sam gave a smirk.

“Every good Hallmark Christmas story has a cute puppy in it.”

“Yes, he’s very well trained, she’s an

excellent owner.” The squirrel mulled over the idea.

“Bet I can bag us a cheap doggy bowl or two.

Give them an ask, see what they reckon.” -

Ritchie was a fox,

who along with his husband, a crocodile named Jack,

owned a queer tattoo and piercings parlour downtown.

Ritchie had known Harvey since they were kids,

separated by the time it came to university,

though they bumped into each other again a few years back.

The mouse made the long walk down towards the kink club that morning.

The cold of winter had finally hit

and Harvey had brought out his woollen coat to help him keep warm.

It was an out-of-the-way spot,

off the high street.

The frontage was a long, somewhat shallow building,

with assorted pride flags draped lovingly from the roofline,

fliers for queer events and other things on the walls.

The glass was tinted heavily,

hiding the secrets within.

With a deep breath, the mouse walked up to the door.

A small check with the bouncer over his ID

and he was inside.

The club was small, lined with leather and wood.

Rather quiet and calm for what it’s function would imply, though

perhaps it was a product of it being an early morning in the middle of winter.

Sat at a small table to the side,

Harvey approached his first potential guests.

“Hey Harvey!” The fox cried, climbing up from his seat and pulling the mouse into a large hug.

Ritchie’s body, covered all over with flowing tattoos and an uncountable number of piercings,

snuggled warm and comfy against the mouse’s ironed shirt and slacks.

The fox wore little.

Even in winter. Comfy trainers, tall, brightly coloured jock socks,

jockstrap and some rubber gloves.

His slender figure bore all the hallmarks of lean, mean, rough and aggressive living,

but did little to mask the true honey-hearted nature of the friendly fox.

He was living his best life,

a fact that made Harvey twitch with jealousy. –

“What day you feelin’ today Sam?”

“Uhh, arms I think.”

Sam pulled on his shorts in the changing room,

a wolf sat opposite.

The wolf, named Vincent,

was a bulky guy. Grey and white fur with muscles aplenty.

“I think I spy an ab or two on your tummy there, squirrel~”

Vincent grinned. “If you don’t mind me saying so~”

“Oh shucks.” Sam chuckled, pulling on a tank.

“There’s uhh… a lot more on you than me.”

The wolf gave a chuckle.

“Keep saying things like that and I’ll have to work out in just my jock.”

He laughed, pulling on a worn basketball jersey and some matching long shorts. “Dunno if Harvey’d like me working out with a man in his underwear.”

Sam smirked, “Not unless I invited him too, of course.”

A raccoon, Jan, met the pair as they walked out of the lockers and onto the floor of the gym itself.

They had a more slender but still somewhat muscular physique,

a pair of black and white-striped shorts a

fair bit shorter than the wolf’s.

“Still trying to win Jack back, I take it?”

Jan teased at the wolf.

Vincent gulped, blushed

and stayed otherwise silent. –

“How are ya?” Ritchie asked the mouse,

but didn’t let him answer.

“Jack saw them unloading something for your place from a moving truck,

gotchaself something nice?”

The fox babbled, grinning wide and leading the mouse over to their small table.

Sat there already was Jack,

a big crocodile, equally pierced up as compared to his spouse,

clad in some tight black rubber shorts.

“Hey mousey! Great to see ya again, how’s the table?”

He asked, the fox sitting up close with him.

Harvey gulped, sitting uncomfortably on the stool and looking over the pair.

“Yeah, Ritchie said you’d seen it.

Honestly, that’s kinda why I stopped by.”

He started. “I don’t think we’d be able to fit it in the shop, eh babe?”

The croc grinned at his fox.

“Oh shh, maybe he just wants you to model on it so he can sell it.”

The fox cackled playfully. –

“Well, me and Jack go back a little ways.”

Vincent grunted, lying back on the bench.

“He was my gym partner for a few years.

Gorgeous, hunky, playful,

sweet.” The wolf reminisced.

“I had spent years drooling over him

and trying to work out how I was going to ask him out and how we’d be together but…”

he sighed, easing the bar back up onto the bench and standing,

allowing Jan to lay down and take their turn.

“Just as I got the courage up to ask him,

he said he’d just got with Ritchie.”

The wolf sighed. “Have you met the fox?”

Sam asked. “Been in a room with him,

never actually talked to the guy.

But he’s got a lot going for him.

Energetic, headstrong,

raunchy, kinky as hell.”

The wolf sighed. “I totally see why Jack got with Ritchie and

why Ritchie got with Jack.”

The raccoon sat up and stared uneasily at Vincent.

“You’re not actually trying to win him back,

are you?” – “Well uhh… not exactly, no.”

Harvey continued.

“We’ve been given this thing by Sam’s family as part of their will.

It’s the only thing they wanted to give us,

it and it’s chairs.

It didn’t fit in his brother’s house so they

fobbed it off on him so it wouldn’t be so obvious who the loved one in the family was.”

Harvey grumbled. The tone soured a tad.

Jack and Ritchie’s bubbly chattering falling silent.

Meeting each other’s gaze, then giving a knowing nod to the mouse.

“So, we’re stuck with this giant table over Christmas and my folks, while not dead,

ain’t exactly interested in coming over for the holidays.”

The mouse continued.

“So, me and Sam figured we’d ask our friends if they wanted to join us.

Hence, here I am.” He said .

“Who’ve you got lined up?”

The crocodile asked.

“Sam’s got a few friends at the gym he’s going to ask, otherwise it’s just myself and you two…

might ask Angela and Rover.” –

“So Ritchie and Jack are going?” Vincent asked. “Yeah, most likely. Can’t say for certain, but from what I’ve heard from yourself

and Harvey,

it seems like their kind of evening.”

Sam suggested. The wolf nodded and averted his gaze to ponder.

“You and Jack are still on good terms, right?”

The raccoon asked.

“Yeah I think so. Haven’t spoken to Jack in a while.

Although I spend a lot of time in here,

I tend to leave just before he turns up so I don’t have to chance telling him how I feel.” –

Within moments, Harvey was stood before Angela,

a tall vixen in a latex corset,

stood imposingly before him,

with an iron stare.

“Sam knows you’re here?”

She asked, clearly but firmly.

“Yes, but I’m not here for any uhh…

activity.” The mouse clarified.

The fox’s body language softened.

“Alright, what’s up?”

“I have a question for yourself and Rover.”

Rover promptly bounded into the room.

A male coyote in a pup hood,

baring a big happy smile and his paws encased in plush rubber mitts crawling with merriment across the laminated floor and beaming up at his mistress

and indeed, the mouse.

He gave a hearty “Woof!”

and grinned up at the pair.

Angela looked over at Rover and uttered a simple non-sequitur.

“Milkfloat.” She said,

clear as day. The coyote gave a clear nod and moved to stand up,

on two feet, the illusion broken as he stood tall alongside Angela.

“Hello Harvey, you well?”

he asked calmly. “I’m getting there.

Been an odd week.”

The mouse replied.

He gestured the pair over to the booth where Jack and Ritchie were sat

and explained the table to the vixen and coyote.

The mouse looked around and leaned in closer.

“We’re doing our damnedest to avoid anything

“traditional”” He said, giving air-quotes.

“So we thought we’d make it a…

kinky kinda party.”

“Ooh, a festive orgy~”

Ritchie grinned. “Not an

orgy, uhh p-persay.” The mouse blushed.

“Just something that’d

boil the blood of the homeowner’s association.”

“The rest of your guests are aware of how…

kinky it might be?”

Angela asked. “Correct.

It was sold as a uhh… “fetishy

informal Christmas dinner.””

Harvey said, a sentence which,

when thought about in such terms,

gave him very cold feet indeed. –

“So it’s like, dress up in fetish wear, have dinner, giggle at dildos, that kinda thing?”

Jan enquired. “Broadly, yes, that’s the idea.”

Sam explained. “I think one of Harvey’s friends is into pup play, so you may have a friendly kinkster asking for pets.”

The raccoon smirked.

“Oh, I think I can pet a doggo or two.” -

The fox and croc looked at each other again.

“We’re having a family get together of our own on Boxing day,

but Christmas day itself I don’t think we’re doing anything at all?”

Ritchie suggested, looking up at Jack,

wrapping an arm around his.

“I don’t think so,

I think it’d be a gay old time~”

The croc grinned.

“Count us in.” “What would you like, Paul?”

Angela asked the coyote.

He nodded. “If I can be Rover,

I’d like it.” The vixen nodded,

silently considering her options.

“Harvey, this is an utterly ridiculous, absurd and bizarre idea.

I have no choice but to say I’m in 100%.” - “A kinky Christmas party is uhh… definitely something I didn’t know was possible, but now I know it is, I have to be able to say

I’ve done one.”

Jan reasoned. “Fuck it, I’m in.”

they smirked. Sam nodded and turned to look at Vincent who had remained quiet,

arms folded for a while,

mulling it over. “What d’ya think?”

Vincent took a deep breath, then nodded.

“Alright, I’ll come.” --

With the discussions complete,

Sam and Harvey reconvened back at the house.

The large table was now complete with chairs,

eight of them, surrounding the piece,

one at each end and two rows of three either side.

The pair sat at the table with a coffee each, going over the plan.

“Turns out Vincent’s got feelings for Jack so uhh,

if we’re lucky this party’ll turn into an orgy,

if we’re unlucky

it’ll be a punch-up.”

Sam explained “Plastic and paper crockery,

got it.” Harvey explained,

making a list in a notepad, checking it once at a push.

“I’m thinking we should give a decent consideration to decorations, you got anything in mind?

Big lights? A dead tree?

Bits of planet-killing plastic?”

“Oooh!” The squirrel perked up.

“Avoid anything with “Christmas” written on it.

Only get stuff with “Happy Holidays”.

Anything that’ll make the chairman of the Homeowners Association lose their shit is worth doing.”

“Gotcha” The mouse confirmed.

“What’s next then?”

“Well… what are we going to use for the Christmas meal?”

There was a long

pause. “Can you cook?”

Sam asked. “Like cook cook,

y’know?” “Uhh… I’ve like,

made ready meals before.”

The mouse shrugged.

“That’s not going to cut it,

is it?” The pair stared at each other.

“I’ll go buy decorations,

you learn how to cook.”

Harvey suggested, picking up the list.

“It’s 999 for the fire department, right?”

Sam asked. - By the end of the day,

a large amount of

“Happy Holidays” bunting had been strewn across the front of the house and around the inside,

made with the cheapest plastic that money could by.

A tiny plastic tree had been placed in the centre of the table,

plugged into the wall at the side.

Sam had read the manual for the oven

and had tried to put together some dishes he could have a go at making for the Christmas dinner.

“Turkey?” “I think that’s going to be a

bit beyond what I can do.”

The squirrel said.

“I think, realistically, we have two options.

I buy us eight ready meals, or I just make a bucketload of pasta

and stuff.” “D’ya think they’re going to

expect a turkey?” “I think they’re going to expect food poisoning.”

Sam grunted. “But I was born of disappointment,

let’s see if I can manifest a lack of salmonella.” -

Christmas day dawned.

Sam and Harvey awoke at 9AM.

In approximately 3 hours,

two tattoo artists,

two folks from Sam’s local gym,

a pup and a dominatrix would arrive for Christmas lunch.

Everyone had been allocated their table seat,

Harvey at one end,

Sam at the other,

Ritchie and Jack down near Harvey,

Angela opposite Paul,

if he felt like he wanted a chair,

and Vincent and Jan down near Sam at the window end.

A selection of pronoun badges had been made available as well,

along with a spot to change,

but only once everyone had arrived.

“Nervous?” Sam asked

“A little~” Harvey smiled.

“Though uhh… to see you all dressed up in something skimpy wouldn’t hurt~”

The pair chuckled to each other nervously as they awaited the first arrival.

Jan and Vincent were the first to arrive,

dressed in large coats.

They brushed the snow off of their shoulders and sat down their bags.

“So, what have I gotten myself in for?”

The raccoon grinned. “I’m happy

to announce that the dominatrix and the pup are coming.”

Harvey explained.

They grinned. “Sounds like fun.”

The raccoon said, picking up a “They/Them” badge from the table.

“I like doggos.” Vincent continued to carry his nerves a tad.

“Worried about Jack and Ritchie?”

Harvey asked at last.

The wolf jumped, then tried to cover it with a chuckle.

“Oh uhh… yeah kinda…”

He said. “I’m just working out how to be in a sexy space with Jack and not uhh…

make it awkward.” That answer wasn’t far off,

as the fox and crocodile appeared at the doorway and were brought inside.

They gave Harvey a hug each and placed down their bags, both dressed in the most amount of clothing that the mouse could ever remember seeing them in.

Ritchie walked forth to introduce himself to Jan,

while Vincent and Jack nervously greeted each other,

the crocodile unprepared,

the wolf only slightly more so.

As bags were being set down, Sam managed to overhear Ritchie whisper to Jack

“Oh, so that’s that stud Vincent you were talking about~”.

The squirrel pretended not to have done so.

The final two guests,

Angela and Paul arrived in turn,

and at last, all eight participants had been gathered.

“I brought a whip in case anyone misbehaves.”

The vixen announced,

though was met only with excited looks from the others in the room.

“Oh great, you’re going to make me regret saying that, aren’t you?”

she grumbled. “Okay, is everybody aware of what we’re about to do.

Everybody comfortable with what’s about to happen this evening?”

Harvey asked. Their six guests nodded.

“Alright, in that case, I’ve got turkey’s to cook and thongs to wear.” Sam announced,

departing for the kitchen while the rest got themselves changed.

“I thought you said we weren’t

going to do the turkey?”

Harvey asked, pulling on a pair of leather chaps as he watched the squirrel fumble with the oven.

“Yes, well, I found this tiny, cheapo turkey and thought,

why not at least try, y’know?”

Sam said, pushing the somewhat prepared bird into the oven,

then briskly shedding his clothes to reveal the shiny black thong he had on underneath.

“Do you think this would suit a crop

-top?” The squirrel said, pointing to his lone garment.

“You do know how to cook that, right?”

Harvey replied, looking only at the oven.

“Yes.” Sam said, in a way that very clearly meant ‘no’.

“You know what, you’re right,

too femme, this needs a harness.”

“We’re going to die.”

Harvey said calmly.

“It’s not my fault they ran out of pasta and ready meals in the shop.”

The squirrel protested.

With a leather harness added to the squirrel’s body,

a fishnet shirt on the mouse’s,

the two returned to the living room, spying Vincent,

in just his jockstrap, socks and trainers like he’d threatened to do at the

gym, stood alongside Jack in the latex shorts he’d been dressed in a few days back.

The pair were chatting somewhat nervously to each other,

though they seemed friendly.

Angela and Jan had gathered together,

the female fox in her imposing latex garb

and Jan in a fishnet body suit and a small skirt.

The last two folks to appear in their outfits were Ritchie,

appearing in a thong,

knee-high boots and shoulder-length gloves in an off-brown leather covered extensively in studs,

and, merrily bounding forth on all fours,

Rover. “Oh wow, he’s cute!”

Jan grinned, reaching out to pet the rubber-masked coyote,

who sat neatly and smiled.

“Woof!” He barked eagerly.

“Y’know, I’m less worried now about the whole “kinky outfit awkwardness” thing,

but a whole lot more worried about salmonella.”

Harvey muttered.

“Relax, it’s only a turkey,

I can do this.” The squirrel assured him,

before stepping forth towards the rest of the group.

“Have you all opened your presents at home?”

Sam asked. “Not yet,

I have one for you each and a pair for Jack.”

Ritchie explained.

The mouse looked across to the bag that the fox had brought along

“Is it a dildo?” Harvey asked bluntly.

The fox put his paws on his hips.

“You’re supposed to unwrap it first.”

The mouse pointed to a phallic-looking present

“It’s not exactly subtle.”

“That’s not yours.” “...

“...oh.” The octet sat around the table,

and gift-giving was performed.

Some mundane, some racy,

some phallic and some practical.

Jack had noticed that Vincent hadn’t been given anything from himself or Ritchie.

“Ah, uhh… had I known you were coming I’dve got you something~”

The crocodile assured him.

“It’s fine I… wouldn’t want to have made it uncomfortable

for either of you.” He said.

Jack nodded, smiling at the wolf.

“Why would it have?”

“Well I… I mean, you’re

married…” Knowingly, the croc nodded and seemed ready to counterpoint, but he silently stumbled over his words and sat back,

tapping his hands on the table.

“Is that actually going to fit in someone’s ass?”

Sam asked, looking at a rather

long and girthy toy placed neatly next to the raccoon.

As Angela was ready to deliver a Blade Runner-esque

“I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe…” speech,

the male fox leaned over to Jan, who was watching Sam’s bemusement at their new toy with great glee.

“You think we should

give them a demonstration?”

Ritchie grinned. “Yes!”

“No!” Sam barked firmly.

“We haven’t even had dinner yet.”

He added, slightly pleadingly.

The fox blew a raspberry at the squirrel.

“You’re no fun.” He teased with a grin.

“You know nobody’d wanna have an enema right after turkey, don’t you?”

“You don’t think that’s my entire plan?”

The squirrel smirked.

Angela gave a proud grin.

“Some of us don’t have that problem.”

Further discussion was interrupted by the sound,

and smell, of a culinary catastrophe.

Sam jogged into the kitchen,

pulled on his oven gloves and dragged the dish out of the oven and placed it on the counter.

“That doesn’t smell like Turkey”

Jan said from behind the pair, the rest of

the group following the smell and appearing in the doorway.

“It’s food!” Sam said triumphantly, stepping back and gesturing to the dish with a somewhat half-hearted “Ta

-da!” motion. “What

is it?” Angela asked, stepping closer.

“Food.” Harvey repeated, though

with less of the vigour.

“Woof!” Rover grunted sarcastically.

“Quiet you.” The squirrel replied with a knowing, self-defeating chuckle.

The rest approached the dish and began trying to discern it’s edibility.

“I was afraid people were going to feel uncomfortable with me feeding my husband out of a doggy bowl,

but no it was the food I should have been worried about.”

Angela smirked, resting an arm on Jack’s shoulder.

“Rookie mistake.” The crocodile replied, unable to take his eyes off of the dish that the squirrel was attempting to serve.

“You… didn’t happen to bring some dog food, did you?”

“Well… Rover doesn’t, y’know…

eat real dog food.

Like, I got some custard creams and some water.”

Angela said. “If I put a mask on and went woof, d’ya think I could…

y’know?” The fox laughed.

“If I had enough biscuits for that,

I think I’d have everyone in this place on a leash in 20 minuets flat.”

A small offcut of the turkey was placed on a plate and Sam held it down to Rover’s nose.

“Use your sniffers, is this food?”

Rover took a double take,

almost breaking headspace,

as if to ask if Sam was

actually serious.

He gave an overdone sniff to the dish and then gave an utterly bemused.

“Woof?” “There, it’s food.”

Sam asserted, standing back up.

“I’d trust him, wouldn’t you?”

A long silence filled the room.

“All in favour that I order in some pizza?”

Vincent suggested.

Seven hands went up.

Outvoted by all sides, including a dog and his own husband,

Sam’s burned turkey remained in the kitchen while Vincent pulled his gym shorts and jersey back on in order to get the door.

Within the hour, a large amount of pizza boxes had been placed over the table,

forming a communal dinner with everyone having a slice or two of everything on offer.

The energy had calmed down now, a more playful, relaxed and jovial feel to the room.

People were becoming well-fed,

the anxiety of skimpy wear and sex toys was becoming an accepted,

somewhat comfy oddity.

A few slices in, Angela arose from her seat and reached into one of her bags.

“I have brought some crackers.” She announced.

“They’re a few dozen years old, since I

don’t tend to end up pulling many

but I keep being given loads of them.”

Everyone was promptly handed a cracker with Sam,

Harvey, Jan and Angela sharing four between them,

Rover being… perhaps not best placed to

try and pull one with just his teeth,

and leaving Ritchie, Jack and Vincent to work out the remaining three.

“Well uhh… we could…”

“A couple studs can pull my cracker any day~”

Ritchie grinned. The two stood bemused.

“I don’t know what that means either,

just pull these.” The fox conceded,

handing the end of a cracker to the crocodile and the other to the wolf.

Late that evening,

after the food was eaten,

a sense of warmth radiated through the room.

Everyone was a bit too full,

the talk had faded to idle mutterings

and night had fallen.

Sam’s unsuccessful turkey sat in the centre of the table,

large knife buried in it in protest,

and the pizza boxes lay strewn around the table itself.

Rover had received many,

many pets and was curled up warm at his mistress’ feet,

Jan and Angela were attempting to play the tiny game of Ludo from one of the crackers while, Vincent

and Jack had snuggled on Ritchie’s lap,

the fox gently petting the back of their heads as the two idly danced tongues.

Each, now and again,

lifting their head to guide the fox’s tongue to join theirs.

The house was strewn with bits of paper,

pizza boxes, the smell of burned turkey

and a fair amount of discarded clothing.

Sam and Harvey smiled at each other from opposite sides of the scene they’d put together.

The mouse got up and crept past the tiny Ludo game and polyamorous lovenest forming on the other seats,

and stood beside his squirrel.

“As Christmases go,

I think this is the best I’ve had.”

Harvey smiled. “Thanks for making it happen.”

“No, thank you.” The mouse insisted.

The squirrel chuckled.

“Unfortunately, I’d rather say we need to thank my family for this table.

Without this we’d…

be sat around watching Moonraker for the eleventy-seventh time.”

Harvey nodded. “I’d rather not thank them,

I don’t think they deserve it~”

The mouse leaned forth

and placed a kiss on his squirrel’s lips.

This was “A Very Fucking Christmas” by Pascal Farful,

read for you by BP Rugger,

the ineffable moon.

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Thank you for listening

to The Voice of Dog.