Family
By DirtCoyote
"Rekha, shut up," Carl sighed just as he put the car into park and sagged into the driverseat
The droplet on the car's center console screen wobbled for a second, Rekha listening in before replying back with, "Hmph." and going silent.
Carl would be sure to mention to the CEO at Zephyr that giving the digital assistant personality quarks wasn't cute. None of his subordinates would ever hmph him, and he didn't need any lip from a glorified notepad. Today had been stressful enough as it was. He pushed his work out of his mind, not wanting to think about things now that he was finally home.
The maned wolf opened the door to his car, grabbing his tote bag along with the fast food he'd purchased for himself. It was the third day straight of Edgetech and he couldn't be bothered to cook a microwaved meal tonight. All he wanted to do now was go inside and flop himself straight into his comfortable sectional.
But he wouldn't even be able to do that.
With some slight hesitation, he stood at his front door and took a deep breath. Opening it up, he peered inside to make sure everything was as he left it. Even despite her earlier uppityness, Rekha flicked on the hallway lamps as she was expected to. No bottles, no food containers, no red cups, and no trash was waiting for him.
Carl sighed long and stepped inside. His bag went down on the entryway table, now free of all the shit that had started this whole mess. Only a picture frame of him and his son lay waiting on top. The rest of the house was just as clean as he'd left it this morning.
"So he can do something right," Carl chuckled to himself.
Well, he didn't know that for sure, but he had high hopes. He drifted to the kitchen island, calling for Rekha to turn on the rest of the lights. All at once, each room flicked to life. The bulbs adjusted in warmth up and down until a soft glow spread evenly throughout the rest of the house. If he could describe his living room, it would be crisp as if it were a display for new home buyers.
This was turning out to be quite a pleasant start. Trailing his finger along the surface of the table, he inspected his pad as he stepped into the kitchen. Squeaky clean. Pulling out a small container from a cabinet overhead, he poured its contents inside a blender and filled half the pitcher with water. He thumbed through the options on a small panel at its base, tapping at the timed blend before stepping away as it whirled the mixture together.
Carl's paw rested on the doorknob to the basement for a second. He jiggled it, making sure it was locked just as he instructed Everett to do when he'd finished dusting the main floor. It was, but he couldn't help but glance over to his son's room. Part of him worried that he'd find him on his gaming chair, playing Jetpack Jaden IV in his underwear.
He trusted himself to pull out his keys and unlock the basement door without needing to . Carl took each step slow, careful not to make too much noise all the way down. As soon as he dropped to the base though, there was a stirring. Everett began mewling and whimpering loudly the moment the light turned on.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming. I'm coming," Carl said, knowing exactly what his son wanted.
The boy was up on his hands and knees, shifting left and right frantically inside of his cage. With the way his legs were quivering, Carl knew he had followed his orders to the T. As part of his punishment for cumming on his own the other day, he'd taken away his bathroom privileges. Now he was only allowed to go out in the trees and bushes when Carl would take him for a walk.
Just as he was told to do, he'd locked himself in his own cage and waited for Carl to get home. It was hot at first, but now he was rushing to find the boy’s leash before he might actually piss the bed. All the while, Everett whined with his muzzle right up against the bars. When he finally remembered where he put it, he grabbed it off the metal counter and approached the cage. 
"Good boy," he reassured his son every step up the stairs.
Everett had climbed to the top at his father's side, but immediately started to get ahead of him. Carl took him through the hall and through the living room out the sliding glass door that led to the back. Right as it opened, the cool misty evening hit the naked boy hard enough to stutter his steps. He instead shivered and remained inside of the house.
"What? Now you don't have to go?" Carl laughed, looking about ready to close the sliding glass again.
Hearing that, Everett hopped out onto the wooden deck and down the patio stairs. Carl gritted his teeth as he tried to follow along with him. His son was practically dragging him through the grass as he tried to crawl towards the treeline of his house. With a harsh tug, he stopped Everett halfway through the yard and planted his feet firm on the ground.
The collared maned wolf was pulled back, knees splaying in the grass as he halted. Over the earthy mountain smells came the distinct scent of piss as he lost some control. Not wanting to torture the boy anymore though, he reached down and unclipped the leash. Everett went off to the trees like a rocket.
The first few times, Carl made a point to record his son using the restroom. He'd make Everett watch it back with him, just so he'd fully understand who was in charge. Every aspect of his life, including his bodily functions, were something Carl was in control of and not him. Today though, he was too exhausted to play along with his training. As well, the lesson probably had stuck by now and he was being good, for the most part. Carl gave him a couple minutes to do his business, browsing through dozens of emails that'd come since he'd left the car.
He thumbed through the endless scroll of different meetings, event reminders, and touch-ups until it made his headspin. Thankfully, Everett came rushing back towards him just in before he could get too caught up in his phone. The boy was moving fast, though his soles were still bandaged and healing. Carl wanted to tell him to be careful, but it was pleasant to see him in a good mood.
His son's head went right up against Carl's thighs, brushing on him lovingly. To some extent, he knew that it was just an act to rush his father back inside of the house. It didn't bother him though, and he rubbed between his son's ears before locking the leash in place. Without the urgency of his bladder, Everett followed his father up the patio and through the backdoor side by side the entire way.
"Hungry?" Carl asked, not really needing an answer.
His son went straight to his metal dog bowl, putting his nose against it. Carl rested the leash on Everett's back before walking to the blender. The protein shake inside the pitcher didn’t look very satisfying, but his son had earned it when he gave his father lip about the oatmeal he fed him on his first morning of being a slave. Now, he wasn’t going to be given any normal food until he proved that he was grateful for receiving any food Carl gave him.
And grateful he did learn to be. As soon as the older maned wolf poured the protein shake into the bowl, Everett was scarfing it down in loud large gulps. "Easy there, kiddo. Gonna give yourself a tummy ache," he said as he stroked his son's nape. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he could swear his mane was finally growing out.
As soon as the bowl was licked dry, Carl headed towards his bedroom. A whistle got Everett to follow along behind him, grabbing the leash into his own muzzle and carrying it between his teeth. Surprisingly, he taught himself that trick without any of his own intervention. He was falling into the role quite well.
Carl got onto his own bed, undoing the green tie he'd chosen for his big EdgeTech speech. It was striking, that was for sure, but he hated it. Like the blazer, the vest, the button up, his slacks, and loafers, they all felt confiding. Course, he couldn't very well wear anything else while presenting to half a million spectators. Not if he wanted this week to be the success that it would be.
Still, they had to come right-the-fuck off now if he was gonna truly relax. Just as the tie was undone, Everett hopped up on the bed and pulled it off his neck. He sat it down carefully beside him before working each button off his shirt. Carl just spread his arms, letting his son handle the usual after work routine he'd been settling into.
One by one, each article of clothing was pulled from him and folded neatly on the bed sheet. When Everett was finished with Carl’s top half, he skipped off the bed to start on his bottom half. Moving too fast though, he landed wrong on his knees and feet with a wince. Carl glared down, noticing his son's pain and growled, "Careful." in a deep stern voice. His son wasn't completely under control, and would need reminders from time to time.
His maw opened up, sorry dangling on the tip of his tongue, but shut it just as the s left his throat. Which was good for Everett, cause if he heard it, he was gonna earn himself a correction. Carl didn't want to hear sorries anymore from his son. His job was to listen and take orders throughout his punishment.
With extra attentiveness, he took off the maned wolf's shoes. He pulled his long socks from the neck, rolling them up neatly before starting on the other. As he worked, Carl took the shirts and tie, placing them on his son's back to be tossed in the dirty clothes hamper when he was finished.
The last thing to come off was his pants. His son got to his knees, unlatching his belt buckle and pulling down the zipper. Carl helped his son by lifting himself up so that it could be pulled off him in a single go. He couldn't help but feel like royalty letting himself be taken care of this way. It felt good and, almost embarrassingly, natural.
"Good job," Carl said, patting his son on the head.
Standing in only a pair of pitch black boxers, he scooped up the pants below and placed it on Everett with the rest of his discarded clothes. He watched his son snag the socks into his maw. Even though he tried to hide it, the smaller maned wolf sniffed quietly and let out a soft murmur of pleasure.
Interesting.
He didn't let the thought hang on his mind for long. Instead, Carl walked to his dresser and grabbed a tank top from within. As he placed it over himself, he watched Everett skip along to the clothes hamper, placing all of it inside and taking note of how full it was. If Carl didn't know any better, he'd thought his son was making a list of chores for tomorrow.
Not wanting to go without dinner any longer, he slipped into his khaki shorts and dismissively walked back into the hallway. He grabbed his dinner off the end table and flopped into the couch cushions noisily. Without much care, he flipped through the streaming service on his TV until Everett crawled up onto the couch next to him, resting his head into his father's lap.
"How's Shadow Island sound?" he asked, though this time he looked for input.
His son was always fond of those stupid Doug Riot films, this one being particularly dumb. Some zombie action-horror with the main lead border collie shooting guns blazing out of trouble. Still, he didn't want something challenging after the hard day and would rather just shut off with Everett by his side.
"Sounds wonderful, sir," he replied, with some wistfulness in his voice.
As explosions and death reigned from the surround sound speakers, Carl split his attention between his burger and tablet. Though his big speech was finished, he still had hundreds of little conversations to catch-up on: some promising coder from a little tech startup looking to hop onto something bigger, a voice conference with some former colleagues hoping to invest, little hiccups in the SeetherSoft display that Hugo and Daisy were working overnight to resolve, and a hundred other things that would need to be handled before tomorrow would even begin.
All of that was becoming harder to focus on with Everett nuzzling into his crotch. It wasn't sexual, at least Carl didn't think so. The soft grazes were something he'd seen him do with his mom growing up, even in his teenage years as the ever cub Everett was. Carl couldn't help but to put the tablet down and run his paws through his son's side lovingly.
This felt much more important.
Slowly though, his son's paw encroached up to Carl's side and stroke along his thigh. He could see his son wasn't paying any attention to the TV. Instead, he was staring down towards the older male's large feet. Wanting to test his theory, he flexed his toes out, splaying them wide for his eyes to feast on. That got a loud lick from his son's hungry chops.
"You can play with them, if you like," Carl said, his tone not commanding. 
No, he didn't want to be in control of him right now. He was curious to know what his son's interests were. Not the video games he played or movies he watched, but the thing which made him excited on his own without need of intervention. It felt like learning about his son for the first time ever.
With the ability to do what he pleased, his son curled off the couch onto his hands and knees. Carl watched him nervously approach the ottomon his father’s long legs rested on. Starting at thighs and forelegs, Everett stroked patternlessly, kneading into his father’s sore muscles in a gentle massage. Both paws wrapped around the thick defined trunks, exploring them with a sense of curious fascination.
Other than his own family, Everett didn’t have any maned wolves that he could spend time with. He’d become foreign to the species traits he was born with. Carl knew how he got the first time that he’d met Whitney and wanted to run his tongue all the way up her thigh. Now, his son was eyeing at his leg with that same look that he once had. Cautious though, he paused in lazy circles right where his black socks met with the golden-brown of his coat.
"You don't have to stop there," Carl encouraged.
That’s all his son needed to continue his descent downward, delving into the full length of his legs. Gentle claws sent prickles all across Carl’s body, and he worked to smooth down the black fur of his feet. The elongated maned wolf sole seemed to wrap up all of his attention as he squeezed it between his thumbs. Everett’s soft tips and palms were clear contrasts to the rough firm pads at the bottom of his feet. It was as if he was born for this position.
Everett spent half an hour shifting between each foot, focusing up and down them the entire time. Boldly, his son started to get eager to test what he could get away with. Carefully, his cold nose touched the bottom of Carl’s pads and sniffed at a particularly tender Spot. The slight tickle earned him a mostly accidental kick straight to his snout. Everett curled in on himself, whimpering, but had enough self control not to say Ow.
Without apology or protest, Carl left his legs where they were on the ottomon. After several moments, his son recovered and immediately went back to servicing his feet. Knowing not to do that again, he sank back into just rubbing. Daringly though, his muzzle grew closer and closer to the side of his foot. Cautiously, Everett eyed up to Carl, a look in his muzzle that asked, Are you gonna kick me again? He probably should have just apologized since it was just being ticklish, but he wanted to see if his son was willing to take the risk.
He would have never guessed his son was into feet, but had an idea when he watched him take a long slow lick right up the corner of his foot. Carl gasped, gulping slightly at the attention. His toes curled in on themselves, and he got another urge to kick, but withheld it for his son’s sake. Amused, Carl allowed him to wrap his tongue between each toe and suckle on them.
Admittingly, the convention center had done quite a number on his sour feet. His son pressing his face to his pads felt warm and nice. Everett nuzzled his nose in between every crease of his pads, tongue tip sliding through every crack for the taste. Kisses showered the tops and bottoms of his feet. He even began to hug one right up against his chest, squeezing it as if it was some sorta stuffed doll.
"Alright kiddo, movies finished," he said, pointing to the credits rolling on the screen.
Everett whimpered, not quite having his fill. Another warning wave of his foot got him to release Carl's toes reluctantly. He reached back, grabbing the leash with his maw and carrying it over to his father. There, he was led downstairs again to be settled in his cage. Carl thought to leave the lock off for the night, but decided against it. It was better just to keep the routine going if it wasn't hurting anything. After handling what he could on his bed with the tablet, he turned over and looked at the clock. 
Midnight. 
He blinked and was back inside of his car, the display reading 7am. Carl did a mental checklist, making sure he had everything. Everett had been let out, his bowl was filled with the shake, he gave him his orders, his tote bag was in the passenger seat, and he was ready to go. Carl revved the engine to life. 
Rekha was already reading emails that came in while he slept. Instead of letting her drive, he manually sped down the highway faster than the autopilot would take him. She was too polite anyways, trying to navigate the traffic flowing into Calataza. Carl had no problems cutting someone off to save that extra second to the convention center.
By the time he arrived, the city was already lively with hundreds of thousands of EdgeTech attendees. He simply hopped out of his car in front of the entrance, letting Rekha find parking for him since he couldn't be bothered to do it himself. The car just folded back into traffic as he marched through the double sliding glass doors. 
Not a single inch of the convention center’s ground floor was unoccupied by tech entrepreneurs, enthusiasts, investors, and speculators all itching to see the latest tech. In the sea of shorter heavy-set skittish men, Carl stood out tall, confident, and professional. Again, he felt a little restricted in his three piece suit, but it slowly began to feel more natural when people parted where he walked. He could sense the eyes on him, hoping his radiance could be osomosed through gaze alone.
"Good morning," Carl said cheery, trying his best to hide his exhaustion.
Daisy and Hugo were sitting at the SeetherSoft booth, both visibly worn out. Each looked up, giving a smile and greeting as best they could. Their eyes had bags underneath, their fur was slightly unkempt, and even their clothes, Hugo with his dorky blue checked button up and Daisy in her yellow flower dress, had looked as if they both slept in them. It looked as though both had a million things to report to Carl, but he stopped them just as their maws opened.
"Woah woah, I just got here. Everything is looking great," he said, calming them before they could kick open a storm. He raised his paws, easing with gentle waves. "Both of you look like you could use a break. Go freshen. Get yourselves some breakfast, or coffees, or a smoke or whatever you need to do. I got this."
Carl was already making his way around the booth when Hugo tried to interrupt, "Just so you know, there's a—"
With a bit of a growl, Carl cut the cacomistle short, "If it's on the ticket list, I'll be sure to see it. You guys could use a break. That's an order."
Both nodded and rose from their chairs, Hugo looking particularly abashed at the stern words. Carl mentally kicked himself for that, knowing full well that he couldn't treat his employees like he would Everett. It was starting to pour into his work now. If he was being honest with himself though, he kinda liked the way he sounded and how quick they were to do as he commanded.
Putting himself into his work, he pulled up the tickets and began clacking away at the keyboard. Both Hugo and Daisy returned a half an hour later looking much better than they had previously. The cacomistle even brought a latte in for Carl, and he received a pat on the head as reward. He didn't seem to mind, appreciating the affectionate touch.
Letting his employees back in their seats, Carl stood and walked around the convention center. He'd need to get moving for his meetings anyways, but it felt good to just stretch out after being in the car all morning. As he did, he ran into a group of colleagues he'd previously worked with. Most of them had been former coders like himself, now rising the ranks or starting fresh with their own ambitions. Just in the middle of catching up, a familiar voice called out smuggly behind him.
"Well, well, Carl Flacks! You're a hard man to track down," a raccoon said, sneaking up to his side.
The maned wolf sighed loudly, stopping recanting a story midway for the only man with the balls to interrupt him. "Jonah, what a surprise. They still let representatives from Evil Corp in?"
"Not my recruiters," the CEO of Zephyr laughed, slapping him hard on the back.
The raccoon was tall for his species, coming up just a couple inches short of Carl. He too was sharply dressed, though the suits fit him better with his status. Seemingly, as if he could read the wolf's thoughts, he jabbed hard at the wolf's side and laughed, "You got yourself dressed and everything" —pointing to a weasel standing across from Carl before thumbing back to him— "You remember when he used to show up to our old storage closet in nothing but wife beaters and flip flops?"
The weasel gave a half hearted chuckle, obviously not wanting to be used to emasculate Carl. He understood when the mustelid nodded though that if he hadn't, Jonah would probably turn the guns on him. Trying to steady himself though, Carl just shrugged it off and cackled back, "Yeah, some people like to be comfortable. Some people like to look like a bank teller."
Carl knew he regretted the words as soon as they left his muzzle, because the ever sharp tongue was quick to pick up. "Speaking of banks, I couldn't help but notice a couple things." Casually throwing his paws up, he dismissively waggled them around before continuing, "Not that I was spying or anything, but I noticed that the prototype I'd lent you hasn't been turned on in a few days. I hope everything is alright with it. It would be very expensive to fix that thing."
Several of the men, including the weasel, immediately ducked out of the conversation. They made feeble excuses about meetings to be in and seminars to attend before shrivelling away with tails tucked. Some stayed though, awaiting anxiously to watch the famous Carl Flacks get taken down a few pegs. He coughed and scratched a paw to the back of his head.
"There was an incident," Carl started, trying to make up a story but coming up dry. "It was sitting on a table and I was trying to juggle a couple things—"
"—A couple things? Must've been very important things," Jonah chirped excitedly, feigning a sly smile.
Thinking that he could control the conversation by at least making it humorous, Carl quickly blurted out, "Fast Food, actually."
There was a pause. A long one that told him the story wasn't nearly as funny as Carl might've thought it first to be. A stern glower froze Jonah's muzzle, his eyebrow twitching a couple times in the way that Carl remembered when they had disagreements before splitting off. Suddenly though, a smile cracked his muzzle and he laughed heartily.
"The great Carl Flacks doesn't know how to decide between his stomach and the world’s most powerful lightweight tablet,” he bellowed over to laugh harder before composing himself. “Whelp, I’ll send a car over to your place tonight. Just toss the tablet inside and I’ll bill you for the rest.”
Carl’s ears folded back, his whiskers lifting as he gave a flippant grin. “How thoughtful of you to send a car,” he said, bowing his head before rolling his eyes and turning away.
Just before he could get far though, Jonah reached forward and grabbed the maned wolf’s wrist to keep him from getting far. Carl turned, head looking suspiciously over the paw holding onto him. His maw hung slack, ready to explain to the raccoon to not touch him unless he wanted to get decked right here on the convention center floor, but he leaned in and whispered, “Can I steal you for a minute in a room?”
The urge to deny him a private audience was very strong, but Jonah was a titan. As such, he figured that when the raccoon was making private time for him, it was probably important. Carl knew it because if he told someone that he wanted some personal time with them, they better fucking understand the weight that it carried. Feigning mulling it over, he decided with a nod and pointed his nose to the side.
Without letting go of his wrist, Jonah led him through the booths and towards an empty hall. He knocked on a door twice, giving only half a second before poking his head in. Knowing it was clear, he pulled him inside and closed the door behind him. Not only did the raccoon lock the door himself, but he found a door stopped and wedged it right underneath. Carl was perplexed at the level he was making sure the door wasn’t going to be breached. He looked around himself, wanting to seal any other parts of the room if things were this dire.
“Jesus fucking christ, Jonah. What’d you do?” Carl asked, throwing his arms to the side. “Please tell me you didn’t fuck with the government again. This place is probably bugged to all hell, so don’t indict yourself. Can you not go one year without being the reason new laws exist?”
“I didn’t fuck with the government,” he said, pausing and looking thoughtful before continuing, “Okay, I definitely fucked with the government and I’m gonna definitely need your help, but not today.” Again, his head went back, thinking for a second. He just shook and said, “Nah, definitely not today. No no, I wanted to say I’m sorry about Whitney.”
Carl’s head cocked and his eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, forgive me cause I must’ve misheard you. I thought you said you weren’t spying on me earlier,” he replied as flatly as he could.
“Oh, please. Obviously I’m not looking through any of your structure or modelling. I pay guys for that,” he said, but Carl wasn’t fully convinced. It was no big secret that all of the men that ran the shows would absolutely breach their own products to peer into the private lives of individuals. Hell, his own SeetherSoft wasn’t even officially ready for release, and he was already using it to cook his son’s brain. Still, the raccoon followed it by saying, “I just happened to notice some status updates and maybe saw some new accounts created on a certain dating app.”
Jackass.
“It’s not really any of your business, but yeah. We’ve split,” before the raccoon could give anymore apologies, Carl waved him off. “It’s good. Just me and the boyo now.”
Jonah’s ears swivelled in slight confusion. “Isn’t your son over at—”
“— he dropped out. Please god stop tracking my every move, or at least make it less obvious.” Carl held up a paw, looking to end this conversation.
Jonah just took a step towards him and held up a paw. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop happening on information, but was kinda hoping we could talk about us for a second?”
Carl squinted, eyes searching the raccoon’s muzzle up and down for a clue to what he was talking about. Jonah’s eyebrows just waggled up and down before suddenly it came back to him. “Us? Seriously? That was, what, ten years ago? I was drunk off my ass and you still remember that?”
A chuckled twisted Jonah’s muzzle and he threw up a finger to defend himself. “You only had a couple beers. I was the one that got too drunk.”
Now feeling a little bit more comfortable with the flabbergasted raccoon, Carl leaned in and let his scent cascade over him. “You were and you said alot. All those things that you’re into. Yeah, could’ve gone my entire life without knowing what half of the shit you mentioned.”
“But you did say that if it wasn’t for Whitney, you and I would totally do stuff together,” Jonah said, his tongue slipping around to wet his lips.
It was clear that the raccoon had been craving this for a while. His slightly smaller body shivered and shook underneath Carl, and he knew that he could take him if he wanted. Though, he knew what the raccoon was into and it wouldn’t be exclusively a one-sided relationship. Which was exactly what he wanted, if he thought about it. A man that would strap him down to his own devices and use him in the ways that he’d been using Everett all week. It would be magical.
But, that was the thing, wasn’t it? Everett was in the picture now and he couldn’t very well bring Jonah over without exposing him to his son. Not that he would be entirely revolted by it. Actually, the perverted and vile raccoon would probably enjoy it. His nasty fantasies were laid out to him one by one in a drunken night of coding. That twisted fuck would want a piece of Everett and Carl at once, both of their lips exchanging between kissing each other and sucking on his fat procyon cock. He’d want daddy to lick his asshole while he nutted hard into his son’s sore hole.
Actually...