The Bad Boys' Soft Boys' Lonely Hearts Club - The Full Package

The Treasonous Treason Of A Traitorous Traitor

It's hard to focus on an epic team huddle when your mind is on the other side of the field, looking at some interdimensional magic twink usurping your place next to your boyfriend. Hayden is touching his shoulders, guys. He's giving him the shoulder touch!

Granted, it's because they're all huddled together, and as any thinly-veiled homoerotic football movie has taught us, grabbing each other's shoulders in a huddle is the most Christian-approved way to manhandle a bro without it being offensive to the heteros. Why nobody blinks an eye when they spank each other whenever they go in and out of the field is beyond me. Maybe God approves of some light, no-hom spanking on the side.

"Hey, killer," screeches the vampwolf, taking away my attention from the shoulder orgy just beyond my line of sight, "get your head in the game, or I'll use your head in the game. Like a ball."

"First of all, I said I was sorry," I say, huddled between the furry—which, and I shouldn't be saying this since it's a given, is panting like a pug in a moderately warm day—and Bulsion, the half-bull-half-alligator beast—who is somehow quieter than the furry. "Second, who died and made you my boss?"

"I'm with the killer here," says the flying pixie, Piston Uvula Tennessee, or whatever her name is. "If there's royalty among us, it would be me, the queen of fairies! We were the rulers of the forest before those damn heteromorphs came in and ruined everything with their ethnic dishwashers and overtly-spiced shoes!"

Both Bulsion and the Vampwolf exclaim grunts of disapproval as they physically lean away from the pixie.

"What? It's true!" yells the pixie.

"Bulsion does not condone racism," says the half-beast.

"Yeah, you tiny biggot. This is why nobody likes you!" says the vampwolf. "What happened with the forest being the hills of the free and the treehouse of the brave? Our founding parents wanted this land to be a haven for all of us!"

"Your founding parents invaded this sacred forest!" yells the pixie. "We were here first! But don't worry, I'll make the forest great again, and I'll build a huge vine wall and I'll make those damn sasquatches pay for it!"

The half-beast stands proudly, puffing his ample chest to assert dominance. To me, I just looks like a nice brisket I would slow-cook over a weekend. "Bulsion will never allow monarchy to reign here again. Bulsion will be the new protector of the forest, and will usher a new era of cooperation, wherever the people, and not the protector, will seize the means of production. The people will rule themselves, in a spirit of equality and fraternity. No more shall the rich prey on the poor!"

"You talk funny, big boy," says the furry. I want it on the record that he's been fondling my back this whole time, and I'm 70% sure he's trying to cop a feel, his fursuit doesn't let him. "Why don't we go to the bathroom, I'll make a hole between the stalls, and you fill my politburo with your proletariat?"

"Bro, what the fuck are you doing here?" I say. "Like, seriously. This is a serious matter. Are you lost? Want me to call you an uber?"

The furry slowly turns towards me as the deafening crinkle of a used diaper activates a primal fear deep inside my soul. "Man, I don't even know. I'm high on molly, my viagra is wearing off, and nobody wants to jiff. I mean, I spent the last fifteen minutes practically begging for some tail, and everyone seems, like, disgusted with me! They all say 'ew' and 'please no, I surrender,' and disappear into a tower of light. This is the worst Furry convention I've been to since the pandemic."

"Bro, this ain't a furry convention. It's a forest in the middle of nowhere with real magic creatures. Does this look like a convention ground to you? Take a whiff—It doesn't smell like b.o."