Friday, November 28th, 1997 — Part 2: Roland Turner, age 16

     There he stood, a horse in the headlights, watching Jackson’s tail disappear around the corner as the door creaked open.
     “I didn’t expect you to actually show up,” Jericho said with a sly smile. The horse hadn’t expected himself to actually show up either.
     Jericho was wearing a plush red robe. It smelled as if he had just gotten out of the shower. Rollie wasn’t sure what to say or do. He looked over his shoulder when he heard Jack’s truck peel out of the parking lot, crunching over the beer bottles left on the asphalt. 
     “Was that your ride?”
     Rollie said nothing.
     “I guess you were planning on spending the night, then?”
     “I—I wasn’t really planning on anything, I just—”
     “Well, come on in; it’s freezing, and I’m still drying off.”
     The clydesdale swallowed what little saliva remained in his desert-dry mouth. Jeri held the door open and gestured Roland to come inside. He hesitated, then did so. Upon entering, he looked around the desolate room. The motel was relatively new, only having been finished a few years ago, but the room was already showing its age. Stains along the carpet and bedspread, dings and scratches in the wooden furniture, and peeling of the wallpaper, which had already visibly yellowed from the patrons’ heavy smoking. Jericho, in fact, had a cigarette already burning in the ashtray on the nightstand. 
     Jericho shut the door, locked the deadbolt, then latched the door chain.  
     “So,” he said to Rollie, who then turned around to observe the cat leaning slantways against the door, arms crossed.
     “…So…?”
     The cat smirked, and held in a chuckle. The kid was absolutely clueless.
     “What are you doing here, exactly?”
     “Um, well, I just kind of woke up here. I guess I fell asleep in the truck. They dropped me off.”
     “Some friends you got, huh?”
     “Well, it was mostly Jack’s idea.”
     “The coyote?” Jericho pronounced this ‘kai-oat’, whereas most people from the area pronounced it ‘kai-o-tee”. This confused Rollie for a brief moment.
     “Uh, yeah, he—”
     “He seems like a real piece of work,” said Jeri with a soft grin.
     “Yeah, uh, you could say that, I guess.”
     Jericho walked over and picked up his cigarette, sitting down on the bed.
     “Do you want to sit with me?” He patted the mattress beside him.
     “I—Uh,” the horse shuddered and shook. Nerves and anxiety wracked him. He tried to think of a polite way to say no. He couldn’t believe his friends had done this to him—left him in a seedy motel with a strange man nearly twice his age with the intent to… what, get laid? Even if Jack did think Jeri was a girl—a woman, rather—this seemed like a bad idea. 
     “Sure,” the boy finally answered. He nearly stumbled taking his first step, his legs and knees were so weak. He essentially fell onto the bed when he finally got there, sitting a safe two-foot distance from the cat. Jericho took careful notice of the horse’s hesitations.
     Jeri offered the kid his cigarette. Again, too afraid to say no, he took it between his fingers and took a puff. Surprisingly, he didn’t cough. He let the smoke slowly out of his nostrils and felt it burn his sinuses, then passed it back to Jeri. 
     “So, you’re a virgin, right?”
     “W-what? No! I—” Roland’s heart sank as he realized his cover was blown.
     “Come on, dude. I’m not one of your high school buddies, you don’t have to impress me. I’m gonna be able to tell, anyway.” 
     He’s going to be able to tell? Roland thought. So, he really brought me here to… have sex with me? The horse was suddenly glad he had showered before he went out to the bar. Sure, he was likely sticky with sweat and stunk of beer and various liquors, but at least it was fresh sweat, right?
     “Okay. Well, uh… I mean… Melissa Gordon jerked me off in the bathroom at homecoming last year, but… besides that, I’ve never… done anything.” He wasn’t used to being so open about his sexual adventures. Or, rather, adventure. He was used to lying about them to his friends, but… being truthful? Unheard of.
     “You didn’t even repay poor Melissa the favor?”
     Rollie’s confused look and utter silence answered Jericho’s question.
     “And she didn’t even suck you off?”
     “Well, she tried, but… it was kind of a disaster really.”
     “Oh? Do tell.”
     Roland had never told this story. He promised Melissa—no, he swore to secrecy. This was especially important now that Melissa and Jack were back together again. Their son James was born not long after Melissa’s fifteenth birthday, though Melissa’s mother was his primary caretaker. The two young canines had been off and on ever since, and Jack still didn’t know that she had even gone to the dance with his best friend. Let alone what happened between them in the restroom.
     This made it very awkward when she tagged along with the three amigos. He wouldn’t dare risk Jack finding out, but he doubted Jericho would ever have the chance to mention it to him. So, he figured he was safe in recounting the unfortunate tale.
     “Well, we were making out on the dance floor, when suddenly she says she’ll be right back. She runs off somewhere, I guess to check if the locker room was empty, then comes back and drags me out with her. We go through the girls’ locker room into the bathroom inside, since no one was gonna be in there anyway. She gets me in a stall and sits down on the toilet, saying, ‘Oh, Roland, you got me so hot out there!’ And it’s not even like we were dancing sexy or anything. I hardly even touched her. So she leans back and pulls up her dress and I realize she doesn’t have any panties on! I guess she was expecting me to… y’know, fuck her. She kinda… spreads her lips out a little bit to show off, or something. But anyway…
     “She grabs my belt and undoes it. Undoes the zipper and everything, and I’m already kinda half-chubbed and dripping, and she takes her paw and does this thing where she rubs the little bit of pre-cum all around the head with the palm of her hand… It felt amazing. And she goes, ‘Y’know, I’ve never been with a horse before… I heard you guys were big.’ So then, she takes it into her mouth. And, remember, I’m not even hard yet. Still kind of just in that fresh-out-of-the-sheath phase. 
     “So she’s slurping away, and I’m getting stiffer and stiffer… and longer and longer, and eventually she can’t get her mouth around it anymore. And she can’t even get halfway to the… the middle… ring. Or… whatever you call it. I think it was around this point when she realized she wasn’t going to be able to take my…dick… in her—uh, y’know, her… pussy. And she says, ‘Wow, I knew horses were big but I didn’t realize they meant this big. I bet the other guys are so jealous of you.’ Flattery doesn’t really get me off, but she uses her hands pretty well, and I’m getting close. So I tell her that. I don’t think she realized how much… how much horses cum. She tries to pull it out of her mouth—but I’m already startin’ to flare. I’m so close now that I start jerking off at the base while she’s working on the front—and on getting it out of her mouth before I finish. I guess she wasn’t a swallower. 
     “It’s too late. I start to… cum—definitely the hardest I ever came. But I’m still in her mouth. She wasn’t ready. She pulled back so hard her teeth nicked the head, but I’m out of her mouth and still cumming. She’s coughing and spitting, and my cum hits the wall behind her head. Lands in her hair. On her snout. On her tits. All over the fuckin’ floor. And on her dress. And she’s screaming and gagging. Yelling about ‘You ruined my dress!’ and ‘I told you I’ve never been with a horse before! Why didn’t you warn me!’. She storms out of the bathroom, absolutely drenched in cum, and heads to her locker to grab her gym clothes. I didn’t see her again until the next week at school. And even then, she never said a word to me. To be honest, I think she should’ve apologized to me! I still have the scars from her teeth, and I couldn’t jerk off for like, two weeks!
     Jericho chuckled and scooted over a bit closer to Roland. He put a firm hand on the horse’s knee—still clad in the awful ripped-off jorts—slowly sliding it up and whispers: “I don’t think I’m gonna have any problems fitting you inside me.”
     Roland shivered. The cat stood up. The horse remained seated, his pants slightly tightened.
     “Okay, well, I’m going to go finish getting dried off. Do you want a drink or something? A smoke? Some coke?”
     “Yeah, some Coke would be great.”
     Jericho went over to his dresser and pulled out a small wooden box, about the size of an index card. He handed it to Roland.      “Make yourself at home, knock yourself out, whatever. I’m re-upping tomorrow. But save me some for tonight, I’m gonna need it.”
     With this, he left Roland sitting on the bed bewildered and shut the bathroom door behind him.
     The equine looked down at the box in his hands, still not fully understanding what it was until he opened it. 
     A dusty compact mirror, a glass straw, a razor blade, and a small aluminum tin the size of a half-dollar. Cocaine.
     He shut the box in surprise, never having even seen the drug in real life before. But curiosity set in soon after, so he sat down on the bed and opened it up once more. The blow-drier came on in the bathroom.
     He struggled to pick up the aluminum tin with his meaty fingers, and struggled even harder to get the lid off. When he finally realized that the lid was threaded, he carefully unscrewed it and peered inside. About half a gram of the white powder rested inside. Roland wasn’t even sure what to do with it. He dipped a finger in and tasted it. Horrible. Chemicals. Numbness. 
     As he swirled his massive tongue around in his mouth he started to feel a buzz. First in his gums, then in his cheeks, and finally in the stem of his brain.
     “By the way,” Jericho peeked his head out from the bathroom and shouted, “That’s pure shit, so be careful. Don’t actually knock yourself out.”
     Roland simply nodded his head in reply. 
     He dipped another finger in and sniffed it. The powder entered his gigantic nostril and started to dissolve in his mucous membranes. The buzz came back, stronger this time, taking over his occipital and parietal lobes. Then the blowdryer turned off. Roland instinctively closed the tin and put it back in the box, pretending like he hadn’t been doing anything. 
     His nostrils flared and he blinked his eyes rapidly. It was a small bump, but enough for a first-time user—especially one so young—to slightly feel the effects. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the room, which was suddenly much brighter. The bathroom door opened, and Jericho stood there, drying out an ear with a towel. 
     “Did you try it? It’s great, right?”
     “Uh, yeah, I mean, I’ve never really—”
     “God, first you’re a technical virgin, and now this? Kids must’ve had a lot more fun in the eighties than they do now.”
     “Heh, I guess,” Roland chuckled, a little embarrassed. 
     “Do… do you want to try it, or would you rather not?”
     Roland thought for a long moment, then said, “I…I think I’d rather not.”
     “Okay. I won’t push you. You’re young for that shit anyway. I, however, am going to indulge. Do you want another shot? It’s watermelon vodka again.”
     “Ah, yes, please. That offer I will take you up on.”
     The cat poured them both a shot. Or, what Jericho referred to as a shot. It was really about three shots poured into a lowball glass.
     “To virginity,” Jeri said, sitting down on the bed next to Rollie and holding his glass up for a toast. Roland simply let out a huff and clinked the glasses together. The elder finished his in a single gulp. The younger had to take his in four smaller swigs, with a few labored breaths in-between. While Roland was working on this, the cat cut himself a line on the small mirror inside the box. A healthy helping of the white stuff that was gone within seconds. He closed his eyes and pressed on his sinuses, sniffing deeply. He then cut another one for the other nostril. 
     “You sure you don’t want some?” He decided to offer again before doing the second line. “I can show you how.”
     “Yeah, I’m sure. …Uh, thanks though.”
     “No sweat. More for me.” The cat finished the line then put the box away in its drawer. He poured himself another shot—again, more like three. “Do you want another drink?”
     “Yeah, sure, but maybe like… half of what I had last time.” Jeri obliged this request and they clinked their glasses together again.
     “Cheers,” said Rollie, to nothing in particular.
     This time the horse finished his in one go as well, and Jeri set the glasses aside. The two were now pleasantly fucked up,  Jeri crawled onto the bed and beckoned Roland to come lay beside him. The kid looked around anxiously, as if Jericho could have been talking to anyone else but him.
     “Yes, you. Now come here and kiss me.”
     Roland hesitated again. 
     “Well, look, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. But you showed up at my door at three in the morning, so I assume you were at least somewhat interested. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But make up your mind now, because there’s other things I could be doing.” 
     The last statement was a bluff. He had absolutely nothing better to do. But something about the stern dominance in Jericho’s voice was particularly alluring. 
     “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to, I’m just nervous.”
     “Well then, you let me do the work for you. Just c’mere.” 
     Roland crawled from the foot of the bed to the head of it, where Jericho lay. He lay there and stared down at his feet, body stiff as a board, with his hands folded neatly in his lap. Jericho sighed, and reached for Rollie’s right hand with his left. With his other, he turned Roland’s face towards him and planted a kiss on his lips. It was barely reciprocated, but it was good enough to break the ice.
     “See? That wasn’t so bad. Your first kiss with another man.”
     “Yeah… it’s… pretty much the same, I guess.”
     “Your friends aren’t gonna make fun of you for this, will they?”
     “Probably. Jack’s still convinced you’re a girl.”
     “Well, we can worry about that later. Right now…” Jericho let go of Rollie’s hand and slowly crept over to rest it on his crotch. “…we’ve got bigger things to worry about.”
     A simple circular motion on the scrotum was all it took for the horny teen to melt into Jeri’s hands. He kissed the horse again, and this time the horse kissed back. Rollie’s left hand came up to meet the cat’s cheek, and the other moved to squeeze his inner thigh.
     The cat tensed up, not having expected the kid to even make a move. Roland took note of this and pulled away.
     “Sorry, sorry,” he apologized.
     “No, no, you’re fine. I was just surprised, is all.” Jericho took Roland’s hand and placed it back where it had been, then slowly moved it upwards and inwards. The horse’s fingers slipped slightly into the leg of the cat’s undergarments.
     Boxers, after all, Roland thought to himself.
     Not quite ready for that big move, he gave the cat’s thigh a final rub and then returned to kissing. With this distraction, he then moved his hand up across the stomach and to the cat’s chest, in search of a nipple. He may have been inexperienced, but the kid had read a Cosmopolitan or two.
     Instead of a nipple, however, his fingers first traced across a deep, gnarled scar, just beneath the fur, that outlined the cat’s pec. Not wanting to be rude, he ignored it and kept going, returning to his areolar adventure, but his hands met only fur on smooth skin. He ran his fingers through the fur—against the grain—trying to subtly locate it. He was met with no success.
     Jericho broke the kiss and said, “You’re not going to find what you’re looking for.”
     Roland sat up and gave the cat a puzzled look. What the hell does that mean? This dude had a nipple-ectomy?
     “Usually the scars are the first thing people notice.”
     “I, uh… didn’t want to be rude.”
     “That’s a favor few afford me.”
     Roland didn’t want to let on that the cat’s words—however small—confused him, so he continued: “What… happened then?”
     “Nothing ‘happened’. I just chose to have my breasts removed.”
     The horse’s puzzlement turned to pure befuddlement. 
     “Breasts?” He asked.
     “Yes, breasts.”
     “Like…”
     “Yes, like tits. Honkers, bazongers, knockers. What have you.”
     “You had them…? You had them removed?”
     “Yes, as one would a cyst, or an appendix. More like the former, though.”
     “So, you’re… you’re a…”
     Please, please don’t say ‘tranny’, Jeri thought to himself.
     “…you’re a guy now?” Rollie finished his thought. An internal sigh of relief from the cat.
     “Personally, I like to think that I always was. But, to answer your true question, yes, I was born female.”
     “So… what do you… what do you have down there?”
     The cat scoffed. “Normally I would be appalled at such a question but, considering you’re about to fuck me, I’ll forgive it. Yes, I have a ‘pussy’.” He said the word as if it were a joke. Roland didn’t get it. “But, due to the hormones I’m on, I also have… a bit of a cock, as well.”
     “I’m… not sure I understand.”
     “Then I guess you’ll just have to see for yourself.”
     “When did you… how did you… why did you…?”
     “I think that’s more of a story for the third date.”
     “I-is this is a date?” Roland looked suddenly terrified.
     “Of course not. I don’t fuck on the first date.”
     “What? Then—”
     “Don’t worry about it,” Jericho chuckled. 
     Roland was very much worried about it. The poor kid just found out he might be gay—or at least bi—and now he was opened up to a whole new world of gender nonconformity his horny, pubescent brain was hardly ready for. He had known a few tomboys in his life, but this… was different. His head was spinning, his mind was swimming. His loins were stirring.
     Jericho could see the boy’s hesitation.
     “Listen,” he said, “Like I said, you don’t have to do this. You can use my phone to call your friends to come pick you up if you want. I’m not forcing you to stay here. The door’s right there.”
     “It’s not that. I’m just… confused. And nervous.”
     “It’s okay to be confused. But you don’t have to be nervous. I know you’re a virgin, so I have low expectations already.” Jericho delivered this sarcastically, and Rollie reacted with a stagnant smile.
     “So, that’s a yes then?”
     “A yes?”
     “You would like to continue, I mean.”
     Roland hesitantly nodded.
     “I’d prefer to hear you say it out loud. That wasn’t very enthusiastic.”
     “…Yes. Yes, I would like to continue.” With this, Rollie took his hand and went straight for the cat’s crotch. His fingers met with the knit fabric of Jeri’s boxers, and beneath them could feel the distinct warmth and folds of a—
     Wait, Roland thought to himself. ‘Pussy’. Because he’s a cat. I get it now.
     Jericho clenched and shuddered, his legs retracting, his knees now hovering six inches above the mattress. Roland learned the first time that this is a good reaction. His fingers moved slowly up and down, amazed at the heat the cat’s genitals gave off—even through the cotton. His middle finger toyed at the outline of Jeri’s slit, while the rest of his hand rubbed either side of his vulva. A visible line of moisture began to form on the boxers, and dampened Roland’s fingers.
     “Is that… is that okay?” He asked.
     “Yes,” he sighed. “Yes, it’s more than okay. But it’d feel better without my boxers in the way.” 
     “You—you want me to…?”
     Jeri’s cocked eyebrow was answer enough. Roland got to his knees, tucked his fingers into the waistband, braced himself, and pulled. He was now kneeling between Jericho’s spread legs, damp boxers in hand, still fully clothed himself. He was still maintaining eye contact with the cat.
     “You can look, you know. It won’t hurt you.”