1. Toys

Sam does not remember how old he was when it started. Maybe the desire was always there, some deep biological need that he was born with. When he was old enough for wet dreams, he at least had an excuse for the stains that appeared on his teddy bears. His mother never said anything about it, any more than she did about the sheets, but sometimes a teddy would just disappear and a new one sat in his room to take its place. By the time he was twelve, his mother was making comments about boys becoming men and putting away childish things. He ignored her for a while, but one night after rubbing himself off with his 'friend' (as he called them, because they disappeared often enough not to warrant names), the teddy tucked firmly between his legs as his cock softened, the cum already sticky in the toy's fur, he felt incredibly silly and decided that she was right. He washed the toy off and put it away in the very back of the bottom drawer of his dresser.

He lasted two weeks without it.

After that he was very careful about using the toy to rub against, cleaning it secretly and stashing it under his bed in a pillow case, behind his comic book boxes. As far as he knew, his mother never found it, but it was a constant worry for him until he finally got into the police training program and moved out. He had to share a flat with a few blokes but they respected each other's privacy so while he still kept his friend in a pillow case under his bed, he did not worry about it anymore. He learned from friends and magazines of things much, much weirder than rubbing your dick off on a stuffed toy, and he had no problems with getting laid by men or women or enjoying it when he did. He had a small kink he was comfortable with, did not share with anyone, and took pleasure in when he could.

In 1992, he and his partner on the beat were called in to help with a disagreement at a hotel. It was a small hotel, newer, and was hosting some kind of fan convention. At least, that was what he was told. He imagined red shirts getting into it with Klingons, or something. Stormtroopers, maybe. If he was lucky, it would involve comics and he might score a few additions to his collection once the disturbance was handled (a fan boy could dream, he reasoned).

But no. They called themselves 'furries' and were all dressed in costumes of their favorite animals. Two guys (one tiger, one German Shepherd) who were lovers had gotten into a very typical, maudlin, domestic disturbance involving jealousy and 'paws.' Sam's partner took one look and went to track down witnesses, leaving Sam in the hotel room with the very upset furries, who refused to remove their animal heads. In the end, it turned out to be a lot of yelling but no physical violence involved so Sam was left giving a stern lecture on relationship dynamics to two men dressed like very large stuffed animals who were not interested in listening. Finally the tiger picked up a stuffed tiger off the bed and threw it at the dog, who growled.

"Hey, now, that's just what I was saying. There is no need to throw things…" Sam tied to sound authoritative in what was probably the most ludicrous situation he had been in yet.

"I was just giving him his true love back! I'm leaving!" The tiger yelled and went to leave, then turned to the dog again. Sam stepped in between them and found himself with big fuzzy paws on his chest. He suddenly could not breathe, but the tiger did not seem to notice.

"Just fuck your plushie and leave me alone, Frank!" The tiger turned and stomped out. Sam turned to the dog.

"Are you alright?" He asked, hoping for a very positive answer so he could leave. The dog was softly petting the toy tiger in a very erotic way, and Sam found himself breathless for a second time in as many minutes. He was getting dizzy and his main thought was to get the hell out.

"Disgusts you, doesn't it!? Huh? That I fuck toys?" The dog snarled and shoved the 'finger' of one of his paws into a hole in the back of the toy in an attempt to rile Sam up. It worked, but Sam was in no condition to admit as to how. "Well at least my plushie doesn't act like a jealous bitch!" The dog – Frank – clutched the animal to his chest and sat on the floor, and Sam suspected he was crying. Sam quickly gave him information on who to call if he needed help with "Tiger Guy", and nearly ran out of the room.

That night he sat on his bed, fully dressed, with his latest 'friend' on his lap, a very soft teddy bear. It was the largest and most expensive one he had ever bought, at least a foot and a half long, and covered in luxurious fake fur. He turned it over and found the seam that ran between the legs, and inspected it carefully. He could make a hole, he reasoned, and sew it back up if he decided he couldn't do it. He used a pocket knife to cut the stitches, which was not easy because the "thread" was plastic. Finally a hole was made and he stuck a finger inside to find out what it felt like. The stuffing was soft and giving, almost…silky.

Sam shifted as his hard-on started pressing up against his trousers. He put the teddy down and sat staring at the wall for a while, trying to decide if this crossed some kind of line into "dementia." But then he thought of the "toys" he had seen in stores and in magazines, and figured a blow-up doll was much more pathetic than this. He did have a real social life, after all – it was not as if Sam did not have a date with the blond he met at a friend's party last weekend. And that was when he realized that he was going to go through with it.

He decided to wear a condom, for sanitary reasons, because cleaning the inside of a stuffed toy was not something he could figure out. He got undressed and laid down on his back, putting on the condom with familiar ease and a strong sense of absurdity he had not felt since puberty. Still, his hard on had not relaxed at all since the moment he stroked the inside of the toy, so at least part of his brain was excited about this. He took the teddy and petted it for a moment, the feel of the fur bringing his now-well-trained responses to the fore of his consciousness. He brought it in and clutched it close to his chest, feeling the sensation of the material over his nipples, and closed his eyes as he began jacking himself with his other hand. He considered just going all the way like this, a comfortable and easy jerk off with no serious emotional repercussions.

But he had to know. His mind was buzzing with the thought and as he pulled the toy into position, his heart rate took off so hard he could not see for a moment. He was panting, and the hand holding his dick was shaking, and he knew as it happened that this was a serious, deep-rooted kink and he was going to get off like he never had before and oh God this was something he was not ever going to be able to admit to ANYONE he dated.

He lowered the toy over his cock and gasped loudly. The condom dulled the feel of the stuffing some, but the fur between his thighs was hot and soft and just the idea of it, after so many years of not even knowing this was possible, carried him over and he lost it. He clutched at the teddy and hammered his hips up, moaning loudly at the sensation of the cushioning between his legs. His thighs shook and he stretched out instinctively, rolling over so the toy was under him, rubbing against his abdomen as he flexed and began pumping down, spreading his legs wider. He cradled his face in one arm, the other gripping the teddy to hold it as his body took off without him, his heart racing and his hips hammering. He was moaning again and began biting his arm to stop the noise, because there was no stopping what was happening. He could barely breathe and he was instantly covered in sweat, his blood pounding so hard he could not hear anything other than his ragged breathing. He flexed his ass and curled up to look down at his shame, and it was a mistake, because the wiring of his brain told him it was the most fucking erotic thing he had ever done and he slammed down on the toy, humping it out of control, crying into the skin he was biting as he came.

He remembered that moment, that whole damn day, with frightening clarity as he stood in the small toy store, staring at the large stuffed squirrel, and remembering the feel of Gene's 'paws' on his shoulder while he was wearing the Tufty the Squirrel suit. It had been over two days ago, but he remembered how Gene's arms felt under that costume, strong and hard and fuzzy all at the same time; and for all he accepted his plushie kink, Sam had never, ever considered himself a secret furry. He had no idea what the hell was going on.

Since landing in this terrible dream of a coma, or death, or Hell, he had not even felt the urge to have a 'friend' to play with. So much of his life had shut down – he barely knew how to ask Annie out for a date, he was drinking whisky straight, and he was wearing Cuban heels -- that he was comfortable not feeling his usual desires and needs. Jerking off once a day in his flat with his eyes closed seemed to take care of business well enough, until now. Until Gene became an accidental furry, and Sam was not even sure "furries" as he knew them existed in 1973.

The large, fluffy, googley-eyed squirrel stared back at him, and the deal was sealed. Sam bought it and got the bag back to his flat without incident. He went through the usual process of cleaning it off – it would have to dry for a day before he could use it – and cutting and hemming the hole. The following day went by in a haze as he worked next to Gene and tried not to think about Tufty, because that WAS perverted and wrong and Gene was not his type. Whatever sexual attraction he had formed with the man over the past few months was nascent and dangerous, and a squirrel suit was not bound to improve matters. It would probably only get Sam's life shortened at the end of Gene's fists.

That night he cut short his time at the pub – and Gene noticed, Sam saw that he noticed, but he was so horny and distracted that he was beyond caring – and returned to his flat and fucked the stupid toy squirrel into the mattress. He laid on top of it, drenched in sweat and gasping, coming harder than he had in a very long time, and repeating Gene's name. Shifting lazily over the toy, he rubbed against its fur as he came down from his high. He decided that buying the squirrel was a mistake, but like so many other errors he had made in life, it was an unavoidable one. When he felt like he could walk without falling down, he threw away the condom, cleaned the squirrel off again a little with a soft brush, and tucked it into the floor of his closet. Next to his boots.

The following day he felt like an idiot, but a well laid idiot, and when Gene pushed him down the hall in a friendly school-boy-fight kind of way Sam just laughed and tripped backwards into a half-hearted body slam. Gene stopped and stared at him.

"You're in a good mood, Gladys. Get your rocks off last night, did you? Find you a rent boy to put your todger in?"

Sam stopped and stuttered, feeling his blush blaze across his face in guilty glory. He expected Gene to laugh at him or make fun of him or just hit him, but Gene narrowed his eyes appraisingly and with a curt nod, walked on. Sam watched him for a second, wondering when the other shoe would drop, and decided to let the matter go for now.

That night he skipped the pub entirely, expecting that Gene was only going to harass him with innuendo-laden comments about a tryst that did not happen, and Sam was not about to explain exactly what (rather than who) he had done instead. He got home and stripped down and stepped into his bath to wash off, which was when he heard the door open.

"Oi! You here?"

"Jesus, Gene, I'm washing up," Sam called out through the closed door.

"What? Again?"

"I try to bathe regularly, unlike some others I could name!"

He heard Gene grunt some kind of retaliation and Sam went back to his ablutions, figuring Gene would just pour himself a drink and park himself in a chair for the night. Not the first time. He walked out with his towel wrapped securely around him and went for the dresser to grab his pajamas, but froze in place, horror struck.

Gene stood by the closet grinning like a mad man, holding the squirrel, shaking it by its neck.

"What we got here, Sammy boy?"

"Don't…just…don't…" Sam blindly went for the toy, but Gene held it up out of his reach, and Sam could not grab it short of tackling Gene for it.

"What? This is a gift, then? Something special your boyfriend gave you?"

Almost gasping, Sam shook his head. "No…no, mine. Just…reminded me of…"

"What, you miss your mommy?"

The idea that his sex toy could somehow be linked to his mother horrified Sam to his bones, and his temper broke. "You sick bastard! Give me Tufty!"

The air pressure dropped and Sam closed his eyes, his quick temper sinking in a cloud of shame and immanent death. He heard Gene blow out a breath.

"Jesus…" The expression was made softly, and Sam considered opening his eyes, but decided against it.

"Gene, please forget about this. Just put…it…back. Put it back."

Sam heard movement, and dared to open his eyes, and found Gene staring at the bottom of the toy. Bad to incredibly worse. "Oh, oh god…" Sam's knew his blush started somewhere around his navel and went straight up to his ears.

"You are an incredibly sick bastard."

Sam nodded.

"You like to fuck your toys."

Sam nodded again.

"I have never met an individual as warped and deranged as you, Sam Tyler."

Sam closed his eyes again, still nodding. He heard Gene move and expected to get clocked on the jaw as Gene walked out, but instead felt the familiar fuzziness of Tufty against his chest. He opened his eyes again. Gene was practically looming over him, shoving the toy at him, rubbing it over Sam's chest, his eyes dark and blown out.

"Show me, Sam. I want to see exactly how much of a dirty little pervert you are."

Sam felt his mouth drop open, and suddenly Gene was IN his mouth, the squirrel smashed in between them as Gene drove in hard, kissing and groping, ripping the towel from Sam's hips.

The shock gave way to lust as the heat of Gene's tongue swept him away, and the texture of Tufty's fur rubbed almost painfully against his chest. He tried to stop his hips but did not quite manage it, giving a small, stuttering thrust into the air. Gene smiled and wrapped both hands around Sam's arse and pulled, forcing them together and crushing Tufty. Gene's mouth moved over his skin, biting and licking to his ear, and Sam grabbed for his shoulders.

"You naughty, dirty, filthy little boy. You're going to fuck your toy for me, you are going to fuck Tufty for ME you horny slut," Gene said while mouthing at Sam's ear. Sam groaned and pushed forward. "Oh yeah, you want it, you loved the squirrel suit, didn't you, you disgusting perv. Yeah, that's what you wanted? Tufty? You want to fuck Tufty? C'mon, Sam, do it…" Gene turned them and pushed, shoving Sam towards the bed. Sam caught the squirrel before it fell, and clutched it to his chest, gasping, his arousal almost too painful to bear. He tried to think, and barely got his mind together enough to fish a condom out of the side table drawer before falling onto the bed.

"Oh Jesus, you fuck it with a johnny?"

"Clean…cleaner…" Sam got out as he rolled onto his back and spread his legs.

"Oh, lord…"

Sam heard Gene, and knew he was moving around, taking off his jacket and tie and other things, but he stopped caring. He rolled the condom on and stroked himself a few times, then moved Tufty off his chest and down.

"Jesus Christ, Sam, you really do fuck your toys…" Gene was standing next the foot of the bed, watching him, his eyes glazed and his skin flushed. His shirt was unbuttoned and hung open, revealing the sweat-dampened vest underneath. Sam cast his eyes down and saw the tent in Gene's trousers, and smiled.

"Yeah, yeah, I do. Do you?" Sam gasped out in a short, tight breath and pushed the toy down on his cock. "Ohhhhhhh god…yeah, fuck…" Sam bit his lip and started moving the toy, clutching at it with his fists, and staring at Gene. He never in his life expected anyone to want to watch him do this, and it turned him on so hard he thought he might come in seconds.

"Hey, hey, calm down you ninny." Gene squat down next to him and leaned over, stopping him with a long, slow, lingering kiss. "Jesus you're hot, you goddamn perv, lookit you bashing that poor toy about. Yeah, c'mon, fuck it hard, Sam…" Gene held the edge of the cot as he leaned over and began a trail of sucking kisses down Sam's chest. Sam groaned and began pounding his hips, then felt Gene's heavy hand on his abdomen right above his groin, pushing his hips down. "Y'not going to last like that."

"No…no…fuck, Gene…"

"Here." Gene pulled him up and turned him over, face down onto the mattress and dick down into the toy. Sam threw his head back and braced himself on his elbows as he began pounding again, but Gene's hands were on him, or at least one was, holding him down, keeping him still. Sam whined and looked over, his vision blurry, but he saw Gene sorting out the side table drawer.

"Knew you'd have slick in there, gay boy like you." Gene snickered, and Sam looked back around to Gene behind him, kneeling between Sam's spread thighs, his trousers and pants shoved down to his knees, his cock standing out, the head red and dripping. Sam groaned again and Gene smiled and lubed up his fingers, then shoved one unceremoniously into Sam's arse. Sam let out a short yelp before moaning wordlessly, his head dropping to rest on his forearms. "That's it, c'mon, let me in. Gonna fuck you like you fuck that toy, you're going to be MY toy…" Gene talked low and mean as he pushed in a second finger. "You want that? Say it, you filthy brat, tell me you want me to fuck like a toy…"

"Yes! Damn…yes, come ON, fuckfuckfuck…" Sam tried to push down into the toy and move back on Gene's fingers and could not figure out what to do.

"You got your horn up for that stupid suit, did you? Got to go buy a toy to stick it in?"

Sam groaned even louder as Gene shoved his fingers in hard. He felt Gene move to lean over him, Gene's cock resting on his backside, hot and heavy. "No suit this time. This time you fuck that toy while you ride my cock. I'm going to ream you up the arse, boy, make you blow that toy up when you come so hard." Gene shifted back and pulled his fingers out, and then Sam felt it from his arse hole to his dick, his dick shoved into the toy he was humping like a damn dog, as Gene's cock started pushing in.

"Gene! Oh, crap, oh…oh!" Sam ground his teeth as he felt it expanding him, Gene's whole body pressuring him down. Gene went slowly until he was almost fully seated, rocking back and forth gently to allow Sam to adjust. He moved his legs further apart between Sam's, and pushed in long and hard at the different angle, hitting Sam's prostate like pressing a button. "Fuck!"

"Yeah, you dirty mouth slut…c'mon Sam, fuck your toy…." Gene snapped his hips, driving in all the way, and Sam lost his ability to breathe, think or respond. His hips started moving, pushing and pulling his cock in and out of the toy while Gene held steady behind him. Every pull out drove him down on Gene's cock and it hit his prostate, and he cried out. Gene was gasping over him. "Oh fuck, I can feel that damn toy against me legs down there…shit, that's sweet, Sam, oh love, yeah, fuck it…"

"Fuck, oh hell yeah, Gene, c'mon, fuck me, do me, now now now now…"

"Say it."

"Fuck! Fuck me like your toy, I'm your toy, c'mon…"

Gene laughed, a warm, liquid sound to Sam's ears, and started pumping, fucking Sam with long, hard, rolling thrusts of his hips while he braced himself on his arms. The room was filled with the sounds of sex, skin slapping and men grunting and moaning, until Sam arched back and drew in a breath.

"God, I'm coming, yeah, fuck yeah I'm coming…Gene!" He clutched at the sheets in a panic, knowing what was happening but overwhelmed by it, the scratching of the fake fur on his stomach making his nerves snap like fireworks.

"Yeah…come for me, love, do it. Come just like you're gonna come when you fuck me in that suit…when I'm yours…your…yeah OH SHIT…"

Sam barely had any reserves to register that comment before Gene slammed into him, coming first and hard and long, gasping and grinding in surprise. The shock held Sam off for a moment but then he reached one hand down to pet the toy he was still unmercifully humping as Gene came in his arse. Sam exploded everywhere, expecting vital organs to be blown apart by his orgasm as pumped desperately and cried out in an agonized moan.

Gene was strewn over Sam's back, his skin burning and his breath heavy. Sam twisted a bit to dislodge the toy and throw it to the ground.

"No way to treat a loved one, Sammy Boy," Gene croaked, and Sam laughed. They settled uncomfortably in the cot, wrapped up and sweating against each other.

"So what was that about the suit?" Sam asked, looked over at Gene.

"Christ, give a man some time to recover, Sam. Anyway, don't got it with me."

"…Jesus, you were serious."

"Course I was."

"That doesn't…weird you out."

"You 'weird me out'. The rest of this? Just a good way to get off."

"And you call me the pervert?"

"Only when I'm tryin' to get in your pants."

"Yeah? So what else would you call me, then?" Sam asked in disbelief. Gene rolled against him and pressed him into the mattress, then started kissing his neck.

"I call you my dirty…filthy…naughty…toy."

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