Saturday, July 29th, 2006 — Part 1: Gustav Saman, age 10

     Earlier that week, two near-identical conversations had unfolded in both the Saman and the Parker households.
     “But daaad! I don’t wanna invite everyone to my birthday party! Just my friends!”
     “Sammy, we had this same conversation last year. It’s just not fair to invite some people to your birthday party and not others. You have to invite everyone in your class.”
     “But—” he took in a short breath to emphasize his next word appropriately: “—daaad! School’s out! It’s just summer camp. No one in my class will even know if they’re not invited! It’ll be so much more fun if it’s just my friends!”
     “Sammy,” Redford Parker sighed and rubbed the bridge of his snout. “I already got the invitations ready. I already booked the arcade for twenty kids. I already put the deposit down. I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to deal with it. You don’t even have to talk to the kids if you don’t want to, I don’t care. They’re all invited whether you like it or not.”
     “Ugh!”
     “Plus, wouldn’t you rather have twenty presents than just the one from Ted and Tommy?”
     “It’s Todd, dad.” But Sammy realized that his dad had a point. That was a lot more presents if all the kids were invited.
     Across town the next day, after Sammy dutifully handed out the invitations to his fellow campers, Gus was at home arguing with his dad, too. His father, Jericho, or Jeri for short, sat at the table reading the newspaper and drinking a coffee. He was a very thin and very tall middle-aged cheetah who dressed sharp for his job, and even sharper for his nights out. Today he wore a starched lavender shirt, with a periwinkle tie that had pink and navy pinstripes running diagonally across its length. His other dad, Roland, or Rollie for short, had already left for work early that morning.
     “But daaad! I don’t want to go to his birthday party. He’s a big bully!”
     “Come on, Gus. You have to at least give it a try. Ever since Jerrod moved away in the spring, you’ve hardly even left the house besides to go to camp. I know he was your best friend, but you have to give the other kids a chance. You never know, maybe he’s just a bully because he wants to be your friend, and just doesn’t know how.”
     What a joke that was. 
     “I have Mister Luke! He’s my friend!”
     “You know what I mean, Gus. Friends your age.”
     This was fair, Gus thought. Mister Luke was much older than he was. Obviously, Gus hadn’t told his dads about what had happened that first Friday of summer camp. Not about what Sammy had said, and especially not what had happened between him and Luke in the private changing room. That part he had promised to keep a secret. Gus and Luke had grown even closer since then, though they hadn’t had a chance to... ‘play’ quite like they had on that day.
     Gus was certainly wont to gush about his new friend to his dads, who were happy that the kid was at least socializing with someone, but weren’t exactly sure that a recent high school graduate was the greatest fit for their child. Plus, as Jeri and Roland had discussed one night, he would surely be going off to college soon, leaving the poor little pup heartbroken once again. They wanted him to make at least one new friend in his class so that, when Luke inevitably left, he would at least have someone there to fall back on. Well, Jeri felt this way, at least.
     “Fine, I’ll go. But I’m not gonna give him a present.”
     “Yes, you are, Gus. You have to. It would be weird to be the only kid to show up to a birthday party without a present.”
     “Ugh!”
     Gus and his other dad, Rollie, went out shopping for a present later, when he got home from work. Rollie was a very short and very stout Clydesdale, with a beer gut and flab that concealed his muscles, toned from working at a landscaping company. When he stood next to his husband Jeri, it was almost a comical sight to see, as the cheetah had almost a whole foot and a half of height on him. Not to mention the clear difference in personality and demeanor. Jericho was a prim and proper second-generation immigrant, who stood tall and proud with his shoulders tucked back in perfect posture. He was toned from daily workouts and a strict, healthy diet. He had long since given up on enforcing such a lifestyle on his husband and their son. Roland, on the other paw, was a natural slob and a home-crown country boy, who drank, rolled his own cigarettes, and owned a big green tractor. 
     The best way to sum it up: Jericho was the kind of guy who pronounced the “t” in “often”; Roland was the kind of guy who would be surprised to find out that there’s a “d” in the word “sammich”. Add in the clearly-adopted beagle puppy, and the family was a veritable motley crew. 
     Upon arrival at the supermarket, Gus and his dad went straight to the toy aisle, and Rollie had to stop Gus from picking up everything that caught his eye.
     “Really?” Rollie rolled his eyes as Gus loaded another action figure into the cart. “Is this one for Sammy, or is it for you?”
     “Um, well, I guess he would like it, but...”
     “Come on, Gus. I told you, one toy for you, and one for Sammy. That’s it. You’re lucky I’m even letting you get one. I heard you were a bad boy today at camp.” The tone in Rollie’s voice let Gus know he was being teased. “You better not tell Catdad that I’m buying you a toy. He’ll be pissed.”
     Gus giggled and blushed at hearing his Horsedad use a cuss word. Ever since Gus was young, he called his dads these loving nicknames that he had chosen for them: Catdad and Horsedad. His reasoning behind the choices was clear enough. Jericho tended to be a bit embarrassed by these nicknames and actively discouraged their use because, as Rollie often told him, he took himself way too seriously. Rollie was much more of a fun-loving, laid back kind of dad, and the two parenting styles worked well together. Sort of like a good cop, bad cop situation. Except Jeri wasn’t that bad. He was still a loving and doting father, he was just more stern and, well, serious than his equine counterpart. So it was more like a good cop, okay cop situation. 
     They left with two toys and a small packet of wrapping paper, one with dinosaurs in various fun colors strewn about on a red background. Gus had picked it out himself. When they got home, he wrapped it himself too. He did a horrible job.
     Gus put the present begrudgingly on his dresser, wishing he could open it and keep it for himself instead of giving it to snotty Sammy. He chuckled. He liked that. Snotty Sammy. He thought maybe he could be a bully himself.
     He relented and played with his own toy instead, adding his new G.I. Doe action figure to his ongoing storyline that he had concocted in his head. G.I. Doe joined the good guys, obviously, and she brought with her two big guns—certainly enough firepower to stave off the enemy. The was blood, there was death, there was war—and of course, romance. G.I. Doe fell in love with the daring anti-hero first mate Barbara O’Dessa, who turned on her captain at the last minute and forced him to walk his own plank. They got married and adopted two beautiful children, the end.

*   *   *

     Saturday came, and Gus anxiously waited in the backseat while his dads drove him to the arcade for the birthday party. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing Sammy and the grizzly twins. He really wasn’t looking forward to seeing any of the other kids either, really. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, because he had just seen them all the day before. And the day before that, and the day before that... Maybe it was because it was in a new place; he’d never been to this arcade before. He was sure it would be loud in there. Maybe it was because he knew his dads were expecting him to have fun and talk to the other kids. He felt a pit in his stomach and he wanted so bad to just tell his dad to turn the car around and go home. 
     “Do... do you think Mister Luke’s gonna be there?”
     Jeri shot Roland a look from the passenger seat. It told him, please deal with this before I snap. Roland opened his mouth to say something to Jeri, then closed it and glanced at Gus in the rear view mirror before sighing and returning his eyes to the road. 
     “Gus, why don’t you just talk to the other kids? You’ll see Mister Luke on Monday, I promise.”
     “I know, but I think it would just be more fun if he were there.”
     Jericho butted in. “Gus, Sammy’s not going to invite an adult to his tenth birthday party. That’s just odd.”
     “I would’ve invited him to my birthday party,” said Gus defensively. His tenth birthday was yesterday, July 28th, but he had passed on having a birthday party this year and instead opted to get an expensive present: a Nintendo DS Lite, which had just come out a few months ago. Not to mention that the only person he would’ve liked to have invited besides Luke had moved away.
     Jeri had just about heard enough of this Mister Luke. He clenched his eyes shut and rested his forehead against his palm. It was all he could do not to lose his cool. 
     “We’ll—we’ll talk about this another time, Gus,” Roland added. Jeri gave him another look, angry this time, and Roland simply offered up a shrug. 
     Everyone was silent until they pulled into the parking lot. Gus hesitated for a moment before unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the car. He carried the heavy present in his hands, shoddily wrapped and topped with a nice red bow to match the paper. They stopped them at the door and checked Gus in with a special wristband. The small and pimply rat led them back to the party room where eleven kids awaited. There was Jacob, Jake, Terrence, Petey, Comet, three of the girls from camp, and of course the grizzly twins and Snotty Sammy. It turned out that Gus would be the last to arrive. Their respective parents mingled while the children ran around the room in their birthday hats. No sign of Mister Luke, unfortunately. Gus quietly took a seat and just looked around, watching the other kids play. He didn’t put on his birthday hat.
     Jeri and Rollie scanned the room for a fox, and honed in on him: Redford Parker. They approached him cautiously.
     “Hi, Mr. Parker?” Jeri offered his hand.
     “Please, call me Red,” he said, taking Jericho up on his handshake.
     “Red, we’re Gustav’s... dads, I’m Jeri, and this is Roland.” He almost had to shout over the noise and the music. They both felt the not-so-subtle fear of introducing themselves as a couple to someone new, unsure of how accepting the other party would be to their homosexual and interspecies relationship. Red, luckily, was of the mind that it was none of his fuckin’ business what other people did. He had his own private reasons for holding these beliefs.
     “Nice to meetcha,” said Red, sizing up the horse. He briefly wondered which of them was the top and which was the bottom. He figured the cheetah had enough room in that long, slender body of his to easily take a cock from a horse of normal stature, let alone a runt like Roland. He shook these thoughts from his head upon realizing that Jeri was speaking to him, and tuned back in to the conversation that Jeri was essentially having with himself.
     “...so we’re kind of concerned that Gus doesn’t really have many friends his age, and I was hoping—uh, we were hoping that... maybe Sammy could join Gus for a sleepover tonight. At our place, of course, if that’s okay.”
     Red grunted and scratched his chin. 
     “Well, actually, Sammy’s already got friends spending the night tonight, but it’s alright with me if he joins. The more, the merrier, I say.”
     Jeri had to stop himself from letting out a huge sigh of relief.
     “That’s great, I’m sure that they’ll have a lot of fun together. Thanks so much. Maybe we should exchange phone numbers, just in case?”
     They did so, and Jeri and Rollie said their goodbyes to Red and returned to a bench where they sat and watched Gus, who was still sitting alone. 
     “Are you sure this is what’s best for him?” Roland asked. 
     Jericho pursed his lips and sucked on the inside of his cheek. 
     “No,” he admitted without averting his eyes from their son. “But it can’t hurt, can it?”
     “I don’t know. That’s what I’m worried about,” Rollie sighed. “Some kids are just loners, Jer. Maybe he likes to be alone.”
     “He sure doesn’t mind spending time with Mister Luke.” The way Jericho said Lucas’ name was dripping with poison.
     “I still don’t see what’s so wrong about that.”
     “Don’t you read the news? It’s always the quiet kids you have to worry about. ”
     “I’m sure the Y does all kinds of background checks before they let these people anywhere near kids.”
     “Those aren’t foolproof. Just because someone doesn’t have a record doesn’t mean they aren’t sick in the head.”
     “I know, but—”
     “I just don’t want him to have a life like I did, growing up.” Jeri didn’t say this angrily; it was more of a defeated, somber tone. One of a dreadful fear, a fearful dread. He looked down at the floor, counting the fibers.
     Rollie fell silent. He knew a good amount about Jericho’s past, but not everything. He knew enough to be quiet when the subject arose. He tried to think of an appropriate verbal response without offending his husband, or triggering some kind of negative emotional reaction. All he could offer was a hand to hold. 
     “I know it’s stupid but, I always think that if I had had more friends my age, things wouldn’t have happened the way they did.”
     “I don’t think you turned out so bad myself.” It was all Rollie could think to say as he held his husband’s hand tight, searching for a way to change the subject. He spied one just outside the door, towards the back of the arcade. “What do you say we play some Skee-Ball?”
     “Skee-Ball? God, I haven’t played that since the eighties, I bet. Before you were even born.”
     “Don’t flatter me, I’m not that young. You really haven’t played in that long?” He stood up and led his husband by the hand towards the arcade section. “Loosen up a little. It’s a party.”
     When the time came for Sammy to open his presents, Jeri and Rollie had decidedly had much more fun than Gus had, who had done nothing but play a spider stomping game a few times and then hid in the sky tubes watching the other kids play for about an hour until Sammy’s party was called out over the loudspeaker for cake. Sammy excitedly tore open his presents one after another, bright blue icing hanging from his jowls and smeared on the front of his shirt.
     Gus just sat at the table, dejected, having finished his cake minutes before most of the kids had even gotten their slice. He stared down at the festive paper plate and smeared some frosting around with his fork. He didn’t even notice that Sammy was presently opening the gift he had got him. 
     “Wow, Pokémon cards!” Redford announced with convincingly false enthusiasm. “Who’s it from, Sammy?”
     “Gus,” he whispered back.
     “Who?” Red squinted at his son, as if that would make him hear better.
     “Gus...” he said, only a little louder, but loud enough for Gus to have heard him and looked up at the fox. Sammy was admiring the box of trading cards, which came in a big collectible tin with hundreds of cards inside and a special holographic card displayed through a window on the front. It featured a powerful-looking Mewtwo with a matching enamel pin. Sammy looked terribly sad. 
     “What do you say?” his father prompted.
     “Thank you, Gus.”
     The two cubs made eye contact for the first time that day. To Sammy, Gus looked absolutely frightened. His eyes were wide as if anticipating to be hit, either physically or with a verbal attack. But when Gus looked into Sammy’s eyes, he realized that it certainly wasn’t anger that the boy was feeling right now. The fox’s eyes shone with tears, his ears flattened slightly back against his head, and his tail was tucked between his legs. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy with the gift—quite the opposite, actually. It was that he was so happy with the gift that he immediately felt terrible about everything he’d ever said to the beagle puppy. He felt bad that he didn’t want to invite Gus to his party, and he felt bad that Gus was nice enough to still get him a present even though Sammy had been a jerk to him since kindergarten. If Gus liked Pokémon, Sammy supposed, the kid must be alright.
     Sammy opened the rest of his presents quietly, with a somber face. He felt like trash. All these kids had got him presents and he was sure none of them even liked him besides Teddy and Todd. Why would they? He was mean to them, and he knew it. He was a big fat bully. 
     When the party finally started winding down it was about seven o’clock. Only two kids were left to be picked up, Terrence and Jacob. Gus looked for his dads, who he was sure wouldn’t have left without telling him. He found them still playing Skee-Ball in the arcade.
     “Dad, the party’s over. It’s time to go.” He wasn’t talking to either of them specifically, but referring to them both with a collective “Dad”. 
     Rollie and Jeri had completely lost track of time. They had actually planned on dipping out after only a little while to go have dinner at the Indian restaurant across the street. Jeri looked a little embarrassed to have been caught having fun.
     “Actually, Gus,” Jeri said, looking at his partner for help. He was the good cop, after all.
     “We talked to Sammy’s dad, and he said you’re invited to go over for a sleepover and spend the night.”
     “You what?!”
     His dads’ silence told him everything he needed to know.
     “Ugh!” Gus slouched and stared at the floor. He was so angry. He felt like he could cry. He already had to go to this stupid birthday party, and now he had to go to Snotty Sammy’s house for the whole night? He just wanted to go home and play his new GameBoy. He knew it was called something else now, but GameBoy just sounded better.
     Roland felt bad. He knew Gus really didn’t want to go, and was on the poor kid’s side, even. But Jeri was very firm in his stance that if Gus didn’t want to socialize, immersion therapy was the best route. Rollie figured it couldn’t hurt to at least try. If things went sour tonight, he would speak up next time Jeri tried to force the kid into hanging out with people when he didn’t want to.
     “I already packed you a bag, just in case. I packed you some pajamas, extra socks, and your new GameBoy.” Jeri still called it a GameBoy, too, though it was because of his ignorance and age rather than a preference for the old term. Even over a decade later, when Gus was twenty-one, Jeri would call his Nintendo Switch a “GameBoy”. By then, it was much too late to explain the difference to him.
     “I packed you two pairs of extra underwear, too. In case you wet the bed,” Roland added with a wink. He was aware that it was called a DS, though he wouldn’t be around to play on the Switch with his son. 
     “I’m not gonna wet the bed anymore, dad. I’m ten years old now.”
     “Need I remind you what happened last weekend?”
     Gus’ face flushed underneath his fur.
     “No,” he said.
     “Plus it’s an unfamiliar place,” Jeri added. “It’s much more likely to happen somewhere you haven’t slept before. It’s just in case, okay?”
     “Okay,” Gus said. He paused for a moment, staring at the floor. “Do I have to go?” He looked at his Horsedad with his best puppy dog eyes, able to sense that at least he was on Gus’ side.
     “Yes, Gustav,” Roland responded, trying to hide his frown. Gus knew he had lost the battle when Horsedad called him by his full name. 
    Gus relented and kicked at the colorful carpet. The dated swirly designs flashed different colors as his light up shoes activated. He suddenly wished he wasn’t wearing them, so he could be invisible. Or at least not stick out like a sore thumb.
     They rode the ten minutes to Sammy’s house without talking. The radio played one of Gazelle’s earliest hits, from before she got big. But it played quietly. Gus could hardly hear anything but the bass and the hiss of the hi-hats. And, of course, a hint of Gazelle’s angelic voice.
     They pulled up into Sammy’s driveway, and Jeri got out of the passenger seat to grab Gus’ overnight bag from the trunk. Gus didn’t move, even when Jeri opened the car door and stared at him expectantly.
     “Come on, Gus, we’re here.”
     Gus said nothing as he grabbed his bag from his dad and walked up the sidewalk, staring at the ground. He saw a line of ants crawling across the ground, each carrying a little crumb of something or other. He wished he could be an ant, so that he didn’t have to worry about making friends. And so he didn’t have to go to this stupid sleepover.
     Jeri rang the doorbell and put a hand around Gus’ shoulder. 
     “Try and have fun. Please,” Jeri said. “For me?”
     Gus just shrugged and held his bag to his chest. Seconds later, the door flew open.
     “Heeey! Gussy boy! Come on in! Jeri, right?” Red shook the cheetah’s hand. Jeri’s keen nose detected a fair amount of liquor on the fox’s breath already. He silently judged him as he figured he couldn’t have gotten home more than five minutes ago.
     “The kids are already playing in the den, go on.”
     Gus quietly walked past them into the living room while his and Sammy’s fathers chatted briefly.  He finally looked up to see three cubs staring at him: Sammy, Ted, and Todd.
     “Hey, Gus,” Sammy said. He sounded like they had all just been talking about him before he walked into the room.
     “Hey.”
     The living room was silent except for the muffled voices of the parents talking.
     “I uh, I really liked your gift.”
     Gus was surprised. Sammy sounded genuine, which was even more surprising.
     “How did you know I liked Pokémon?”
     “Well, I mean... I heard you guys talking about it before. And besides, who doesn’t like Pokémon?”
     “But how’d you know Mewtwo was my favorite?”
     “I didn’t. He’s just awesome.”
     Sammy giggled.
     “Come on,” he said. “We’re all playing Smash Bros. I have four controllers.”
     Gus’ face lit up and, soon after, so did his shoes. He ran towards the couch, throwing his bag on the floor. Maybe it wasn’t going to be so hard after all.
     Jeri said his goodbyes to Red and peeked in the door. Gus was smiling and laughing already. Jeri smiled himself, knowing he’d later be able to rub in his husband’s face the fact that he had been right. 
     “Have fun tonight!” he called from the doorway. “You know our phone number if there’s an emergency, right?”
     Gus repeated their phone number aloud, as was customary whenever Jeri dropped Gus off anywhere. 
     Jeri smiled and waved at Gus, who hadn’t even unglued his eyes from the screen. He shook Red’s hand one final time and was off to enjoy the rest of his kid-free night with his husband.
     Red closed the door and immediately went to the kitchen to fix himself a fourth drink.
     The kids had just started a new game. Gus picked Pikachu, and Sammy also picked Pikachu. Ted and Todd picked the same characters as each other—Pikachu. Soon, the TV was afire with a chorus of Pikaaachuuuuuu!s and Piiiii-ka!s. The boys’ laughter was drowned out by the cacophony of small electric mice as they threw each other off cliffs and slammed each other into oblivion with baseball bats. 
     Red sat in his armchair with his fifth whiskey in hand, and a beer to wash it down sat on the end table. He conspicuously stared at the cavorting cubs, shouting and giggling and just having fun. He felt his sheath growing full, and Gus noticed him looking. Red didn’t look away when Gus caught his eyes, and it made him uncomfortable. But he didn’t say anything and the fox continued to eye-fuck the beagle puppy, who had already changed into ill-fitting pajama pants that highlighted his young bulge. 
     Red didn’t like to think of himself as a pedophile, but then again, who does? He didn’t like to necessarily think of himself as gay, either. He would tell himself: I’m just a man. I have a primal need to stick my dick in something, no matter how young or old, no matter male or female. Any way you looked at it however, he was both gay (or at least bisexual) and a pedophile, and more. He was also a sadist, a drunk, and a violent, mean man. But he wasn’t going to do anything to those boys. He couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to deflower that chubby pup. Their parents would find out, he was sure. Plus, he already had his own son to fulfill his urges, and he dangled pain and belittlement in front of the boy to ensure his mouth would stay shut. Unless it was opening to welcome his cock, that is.
     Red crossed his legs to hide his budding erection, and adjusted his underwear discreetly. He thumbed at his knot through his sleep pants, knowing that he was most likely leaking pre-cum through the front of his trousers, to the point where it was probably visible as a dark wet spot on the grey cotton.
     “Alright, I’m going to bed, kids. This old man’s tired.” He wasn’t, really. He would remain awake hours later, lying in bed with his second batch of cum that night cooling on his stomach, knot throbbing, still aching for more, as he pondered the sickness of his fantasies. He couldn’t wait for Samwell’s tenth birthday.
     As soon as Sammy heard his father’s bedroom door close, he paused the game and turned to his friends. 
     “Now the real party starts.”