Spots and Stripes

“I’m going out.” Anneke called out to her brother. “Wanna come to Primal?”

He blinked in response, taking a quick moment to decide on what course his night would take. The last few had been spent in a generally productive way. First there was that TV show he was getting into, and then there was that lioness he managed to pick up at the mall, as well as an assortment of other messes that one seemed to be drawn into whilst living on Pack Street.

All in all, he just really felt like he deserved a nap.

But alas, it wasn’t in his nature to say no to a night out. He gave Anneke an affirmative response before wiggling in the chair he was sitting on. A pang of anger arose. The thing was rickety as all hell and any moment now, he was bound to fall over. “We need to fix this chair, Annie.”

“Uh huh.” she responded, closely examining her eyeliner in the bathroom mirror. “I’ll find someone tomorrow. Or something. Just let me get a dick in my ass first.”

“You realize that we’ve had this conversation like, twenty times, right?”

“Yep. And, YOU realize that, twenty times now, you’ve forgotten to remind me to get someone to fix the chair after I come home. Also, why do I have to be the one to find someone to fix the chair? There are plenty of mammals on the block that can fix chairs. You probably know at least one of them.”

Wolter began to respond, but found he had no counter argument other than that he was simply too lazy. “Touché.” he rolled his eyes and pressed his weight down, feeling the chair wobble underneath him. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.” Anneke walked out of the bathroom and posed. A skimpy black cocktail dress made her slender legs the star of the show, but at the same time, didn’t draw too much attention away from her face. “How do I look?”

“Like me, but with make up and a dress.” Wolter stood up, slinking over to his sister. “Which is to say, super hot.”

They smiled at each other, bumping fists before walking out of the door.




Walking into the Primal nightclub, it seemed as if they had missed some sort of memo. Dark violet light shone dimly throughout, and a good third of the dance floor was wearing purple. It didn’t matter much either way but Wolter was a little miffed. He liked dressing up for themed nights and such.

Granted, they weren’t regulars here. Primal was a little too close to home for their tastes.

He took a seat at the bar and ordered a drink. A little bit of gin never hurt his game. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through it while keeping an eye out for anyone particularly interesting. Minutes passed as he drank and finished the glass.  His sister had disappeared long ago but any minute now and he’d get a––

As soon as his inner monologue hit the word ‘text’, his phone went off. A vibration pattern, set specially for his sister. Three in a row for each syllable in her name. Ah-Nuh-Kuh. A signal that she was leaving whatever joint they were at, and he shouldn’t wait up.

Shit. Was there something wrong with him? He rarely got competitive with this kind of stuff but tonight he felt a little slow on the draw.

He caught the sound of a throat clearing, and turned. Where there was blank space moments ago, a wolf stood, leaning on the bar with a coy smirk on her face. “Mind if I sit here?”

He smiled back. “Be my guest. May I order you a drink?”

The wolf nodded and turned to the waiter. “Gin and coke, please.”

Wolter purred in approval. “Good taste.” He gave the wolf a once over, glad that the lights of the bar helped with illuminating her luscious curves. She had on a beautiful purple dress, and–judging by her matching claw polish and eyeshadow–was clearly there for whatever themed night it was. Purple night, maybe? He decided to ask. “So why’s everyone in purple?”

At this, the wolf’s eyes grew wide. “You don’t know?” she said, amusement laced into her tone. A smile tugged at her lips. Wolter shook his head no, and in response the wolf threw her head back and laughed. “You’re gonna find out, buddy!”

Her drink arrived, she downed it, and left before Wolter could get another word in. He watched her quizzically as she dashed away, still giggling to herself. That was certainly odd. Suspicious, even. Suspicious enough that he felt like he needed a few more drinks. Three shots of absinthe were enough to do the trick. When they arrived he downed them quickly, consuming each one like a hot frying pan evaporated drops of water.

Sufficiently inebriated, he turned his attention to the dance floor. Everyone was still purple, and he still didn’t know why. At this point, he didn’t really care. He surveyed the scene. In classic Zootopian nightclub fashion, the tallest mammals were congregated at the back, with the shorter, more excitable mammals at the front. Hmm, what was he feeling today? Did he want to go shorter or taller? The lioness last time was rather tall. Perhaps some variety was in order. Oh, but that cougar was really cute. A raccoon? Nah, too short. A little taller…oh, hello!

Right there, in the middle of the noise and the crowd, the stoat danced. She was elegant and sensual, with chin length brown hair and a purple dress whose cloth was sewn and tailored to perfection. She was it.

He got up from his seat, slithering smoothly down the stairs and entering the dance floor. It was a little crowded, but he didn’t care. There was no one else in the world. Only him and the stoat.

He arrived at an adequate spot, and started dancing beside her. The bass thrashed in his ears and shook his brain around.

She peeked at him through the corner of her eye, in between movements. She would spin and dance with a smooth liquid quality that took his breath away.

A series of glances later and they started dancing with each other. The low light and the alcohol disoriented him, and what started as a groping of the stoat’s hips for support turned into something much more fun.

Song after song passed and they were basically having sex with clothes on. Wolter leaned in, ready to ask if the stoat wanted to go somewhere more private, but she was a step ahead of him. She took his hand and led him away.

They walked out of the club, past the bathrooms, and towards a long hallway with nothing except for a door at the end.

“Where are you taking me, babe?” Wolter asked, but even in the hall the music drowned out his voice. He could barely hear himself.

The door led to an alley, lit wondrously by a nearby street lamp. The music was gone the second it was closed.

“Sorry,” the stoat apologized. Her voice was weightless. Light. Very cute. She continued speaking as she turned around. “I just wanted to get a good look at you before we went any further.”

Her rotation completed, and they were finally face to face. Wolter congratulated himself. Even away from the low light she was still adorable.

She blinked, angelic smile straining under some kind of vague realization. “Do I know you from somewhere?” She looked him over, and her smile died. She stared up at him, eyes giving the vibe of a frightened doe in an interrogation room.  “Oh shit.”

He tilted his head. “Something wrong, babe?”

“W-Wolter…”

His brow furrowed. “Is your voice okay? How do you know my name? I think I’d remember a stoat as pretty as you. Mostly because I only know one and––Oh my god.”




Wolter’s home did not feel like one. An oppressive silence bore down upon him, urging him to try and break it but never giving him the words to. His couch had never been so uncomfy. Marty sat at the other end, still dressed very convincingly as the opposite sex.

“You uh, do this often?” Wolter’s voice was nervous and scratchy. It was a weak attempt at reigniting some semblance of a conversation, but it was better than nothing. Nearly no words had been exchanged between them after Marty’s identity had been discovered. It didn’t help that the cab driver saw the two of them and immediately thought to comment on how many lovers quarrels had been fought in the back of his car.

“Fuck off.” Marty snapped. His fur bristled in offence.

“It was a legitimate question!”

The stoat glared at him before turning away, effectively refreezing the cold shoulder he had been giving Wolter for the past few minutes.

Sighing, he scooted closer to Marty. “Look, if you were just gonna sit here in silence the whole time, why didn’t you just fuck off back to your apartment?”

Aggression and bared teeth were in his face in an instant. Marty’s hands gripped the collar of his shirt. “If you tell ANYONE about this I swear to god–“

“Relax, Norman Bats. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Marty looked deeply into the aardwolf’s eyes, deciding after a moment that he wasn’t being lied to. “Good.” he said, releasing his grip on Wolter’s shirt and hopping off of the couch. “Well, being in your ratty chlamydia den is nice and all but I really need to get going.”

“Aw, but don’t you want to stay?”

“No.”

“I think you want to stay.”

“Nope.”

“But you have to. If you don’t, I might accidentally tell everyone I know about how their least favorite book fucking stoat likes to pretend that his dick and balls don’t exist.”

Marty stopped his path towards the door. “You’re a fucking cunt, you know that?”

“Only when my blood alcohol level is more than…whatever it is that means you can’t drive. Because that means my decision making is impaired, which means you need to watch me. ‘Cause I think you can tell that I make pretty bad decisions when impaired.” Wolter patted the space next to him. “Sit. If I’m not doing a chick tonight I might as well be doing something interesting.”

“Prick.” Marty murmured, jumping back onto the couch.

“Sweet. Let’s try this again. How often do you do this? And answer truthfully. Aardwolves can smell when you’re lying.” Wolter warned playfully, squinting and waving his hands around in an effort to seem mysterious.

Marty slapped the paws away before answering. “Once or twice every month, I guess. Whenever Primal has drag night or whatever.”

“So that’s what all the purple meant…Kind of a mindfuck, but whatever. Okay, your turn!”

Marty raised an eyebrow.

Wolter stretched in his seat, splaying himself out on the couch as much as he could. “What? You didn’t think I was gonna grill you all night, were you? Ask me something.”

“I don’t want to know anything about you. I just want to go home.”

“Indulge me.”

Marty groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you like wolves?”

“Wolves are wonderful. A little noisy in the sack, but wonderful.”

“Wonderful.” Marty droned.

“Wonderful.” he repeated, nodding his head. “If it wasn’t me hitting on you back at that club, would you have fucked whoever was dancing with you?”

“What the hell, man? My question was bullshit easy!”

“Not my fault. Spill.”

Marty rolled his eyes. “Probably. I don’t know. My turn.” It was stupid to be worried about his blush, because his face was covered in fur, but he still wondered if Wolter could tell. He searched his mind for possible questions to ask. “Ever get it on with your sister?”

“Gross.” A moment passed. “Maybe once or twice.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Wolter grinned. “Of course not. Now then, what’s the biggest you’ve taken?”

“Always sex with you. I managed a giraffe, once.”

“Wait, what? Seriously?”

He nodded his head, and they chuckled at the ridiculousness of it. There was an odd feeling of camaraderie in the air, and with it came a terrifying thought: maybe Wolter wasn’t so bad.

After shaking his head of bad thoughts, the stoat prodded his companion with another question. “Do you and your sister really bang someone new every night?”

“No. Sometimes we hook up with people we’ve done it with before.” Wolter said, unable to contain a smile.

Marty chuckled in response. “What else did I expect?”

“And sometimes we don’t hook up with anyone at all.” There was a stillness in Wolter’s voice. A hollow, empty feeling. Like it was the only thing in a cave full of water. “That’s all it ever is, though. Hooking up.”

He almost sounded sad.

But Marty didn’t have time to reflect on Wolter’s tone. The aardwolf had already initiated his turn as he gestured to him, emphasizing his outfit and makeup. “Why do you do this?”

“This?”

“The whole crossdressing thing. Yeah.”

“Well.” Marty’s eyes drifted to the floor of the apartment. “I don’t know. It’s not that BAD, is it? I mean, I don’t think I’m a girl. I just. I don’t know. It’s…fun? Kind of? I don’t know. I really don’t. And if you want to tell everyone then be my guest because I seriously don’t have an answer for––YOU what are you doing?”

Being built like an otter with no bones helped with being sneaky. Marty didn’t even notice Wolter slide closer and closer down the couch until his arms were wrapped around him.

Wolter’s tone was remorseful. “It’s not bad, and you’re not bad. You’re right. I’m sorry I was being such a dick about it. I’m not gonna tell anyone, Marty.”

The smell of expensive cologne and alcohol made his nose wrinkle. “Thanks. I guess. Apology accepted. Can I go home now?”

“No.”

And suddenly, he was pinned down. Not aggressively. Wolter had simply lost balance and–being a multitude of pounds heavier–crushed him under the full weight of a young, fully grown aardwolf. Marty squirmed. “Get the hell off of me!”

“Oh shit. Sorry.” Wolter remarked, but didn’t move. His nose twitched as he took a whiff of the stoat underneath him. “Hey, you smell pretty good!”

“Thanks, now GET OFF.”

He hummed, mulling over his options. “You know what? I think this is a perfect opportunity for me to apologize.”

Before Marty could gather his words, Wolter had already started lapping at his neck fur.

Marty’s heart nearly beat out of his chest. His arms weren’t restrained, and he could still punch, but chances were that Wolter would easily catch his hands. The aardwolf pressed down on him, pinning him to the couch with his mass. He glared at Wolter, whose face was mere inches from his. “What do you think you’re doing?”

 “I’m apologizing.” Wolter responded huskily as brought himself forward, pressing his nose against Marty’s neck and giving it another lick.

“By raping me? I already forgave you!”

“By showing the cutie I brought home tonight a good time.” he continued with his licks, lapping gently at Marty’s neck. For a second, seriousness could be heard in his words. “Look, if you want me to stop, I will. I’m just trying to make the night up to you.”

Marty wanted to protest. No, that was a lie. Marty wished that he wanted to protest. He wished that he felt disgusted with Wolter and not vaguely aroused. This wasn’t some stranger from the club. This was someone he knew. Someone that he lived next to. And that scared the shit out of him. “Wait.” he said, voice embarrassingly shaky. To his credit, Wolter stopped immediately, eyebrows furrowed with worry. Marty couldn’t look at him. He just couldn’t. “Do you really not think I’m a freak?”

No words were spoken further, and to his horror Marty’s gaze wandered back to the aardwolf above him. Wolter may as well have had the fate of the universe in his eyes. His face was unplaceable. Marty squirmed, both figuratively and literally, and right when began to think that he was going to have an aneurysm, Wolter leaned down and kissed him on the lips.

His eyes widened, and then closed. Their breaths met, and melded, and their tongues delicately caressed. When they were done (or rather, when they had to come back up for air) Wolter lovingly touched noses with the stoat. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Marty scarcely remembered that he had asked a question in the first place.

“Now then, “Martina”. What do you say I show you how beautiful I think you really are?”

“I-I thought you were straight.”

Wolter leaned in, and they kissed once again. “I am. I love girls! And right in my arms is one of the prettiest I’ve seen in a while.”

Gag worthy compliments aside, Wolter’s reassurances helped a lot. As he traveled further and further down Marty’s body, laying gentle kisses on it at every opportunity, he scarcely heard a peep.

Finally, he arrived at Marty’s crotch. “Weird. I was expecting smaller.”

“What?”

“Nothing! Just thinking out loud.” Wolter pulled the dress up, unveiling a pair of panties that hid Marty’s length. He brought his face forward, kissing the dark spot where some stoat pre had leaked through.

Marty moaned, head swaying to his side. In his new field of view, he caught something in the distance. Afraid he was going to forget later, he decided to mention it now. “Hey, just a side note, I can fix that chair in the morning.”

Immediately Wolter’s head was out of the stoat’s dress. “Actually, do you think you can do it now?”





“I can’t believe you were living with this for months when all you needed was some glue and duct tape.”

“You know how it is.”

“I don’t, actually.” Marty pushed down on the chair, gingerly testing what kind of reaction it would have to his force. He smiled when he found that there wasn’t one. “There you go! Easy.”

Peeking his head in, Wolter poked the chair with his foot. “Are you sure?”

“Only one way to find out. But don’t worry! I’ll be sure to take pictures if you fall.”

“How generous.” Wolter stuck his tongue out as he took a seat. “Hey, not bad, RuPawl.” His response was a smile and a middle finger. “Is there anything else here you can help me fix?”

“Probably not. Hey, what time is it?”

Wolter checked his phone. “It’s three.”

“Shit, do you watch Spots and Stripes?”

THAT certainly got his attention. Judging from his apartment, he had always figured that Marty was the kind of guy who hated TV in favor of books. “I do. It’s pretty fuckin’ great, right?”

Marty laughed. “Yeah! A new episode should be out right now.”

“At three in the morning?”

“I don’t make the rules, slutty twin number two. Do you want to watch it?”




The bright, hazy waves from the TV were the only thing lighting the apartment, giving it that kind of dreamy ambience that made you want to lie down on the couch and question the flaws of the universe.

Splayed out on Wolter’s chest was Marty, who had been overanalyzing the show ever since the opening theme. “You wanna know what I hate? The fact that this show gets so much shit from critics who are literally just old washed up has-beens that don’t understand irony.”

“I know, right? I hear people rag on the hyena chick all the time and it’s like, she’s not that bad. Fuckin’ excuse the showrunners for actually trying to be honest about the struggles of having a giant clit.”

Neither remembered who initiated, but they had been cuddling for some time now.

The end credits began to play.

Suddenly, their phones rang loud. Wolter sat up, nearly dropping the stoat on his chest but managing to keep him close with a stray arm.

“Sleep alarm. Is it sunrise already?”

“I guess so.”

Awkward. Marty slid off of the aardwolf, and the both of them felt slightly less warm for it.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Okay.”

Marty made towards the door, but stopped himself. There was something going on. He didn’t know what, and he wasn’t completely sure that Wolter would remember this once night came again, but there was something. Potential, of sorts. Something that could be nice.

“Saturday. Seven. We’re getting dinner.”

“Are we?”

The patting sound of Wolter’s tail wagging against the couch made it clear to both of them that they were, but Marty suddenly remembered his outfit. He put on his girl voice and gave a little twirl; seal the deal and all that. “I know a pretty great sushi joint in Sahara Central. I’ll text you my number. We’ll talk about it.”

Wolter laughed. “Wait, but I already…do you seriously have another phone for-“

But Marty was already out of the room. Wolter sighed, and draped himself over the whole of the couch. He felt a little silly, smiling to himself, like he was a star on the show him and Marty were just watching.

Whatever. It was exciting, and he wasn’t going to deny himself that. As for the gay thing? He supposed that he would try everything once. He closed his eyes. It had been a night, and he had most definitely earned a nap.