Well, I'll say right now that I only write furry Romance stories (In my book, furry romance involves the meeting of two furs who end up deeply in passionate love, and I depict in my writing quite graphically how they make love), which means I can't post the entire story here. However, I WILL post the beginning few paragraphs of my Debut Story "Albert's Black-Furred Angel", and if one truly wants the whole story they can PM Me their E-Mail Address and I'll send it to them. I need proofreaders and people who can give a general idea of how I can improve.

I had just awakened from a very restful night in my parent’s basement. Yes, it seems silly that a twenty-five year old fox, fully capable of supporting himself with his steady job, still lives with his mother like a kit. Thinking back on it now, I know for sure what happened that day was for the better, both for my mother, and myself.

My name is Albert Foxxenn, friends call me Al or Foxy (Only close friends and my family call me the latter). I guess you’re wondering what I look like at this point, aren’t you? Well, I’m very large for a fox, about seven foot ten inches, with a well built body. Muscular, but not at all bodybuilder quality. I’m about 275 pounds of muscle, with washboard abs, and of course, big masculine biceps. My fur is a very deep, rusty red color, with white going down from under my chin and sides of my muzzle, down my torso and groin, my arms and legs are “gloved” with black fur, and my tail is tipped with white. I keep my teeth and fangs in pristine condition, never having had a cavity in my life, and not wanting to start any time soon. They are clean and shiny as the day they first grew in, and are sharp as finely honed spikes.

It started up just a normal day, or as normal as possible ever since dad died. Mom was in the kitchen cooking breakfast, her eyes teary and hurt looking as she prepared my favorite breakfast of French toast, bacon, scrambled eggs, and fresh squeezed orange juice. Coincidentally, this was dad’s favorite breakfast too, and as mom brought my plate over to the table, I heard her sob once, the memory of what happened that day still fresh in her mind.

He had only killed himself a year ago this coming Tuesday, and mom was still trying to cope. It came after I had told them that I was bisexual. Mama just hugged me and said it was okay, and dad stormed off to the bedroom. I was crying in mom’s arms while she was telling me that her and dad still loved me when we heard the loud “POP” of dad’s service pistol being fired. I recognized the sound first, having been to the firing range with dad almost every chance I got. We ran to the bedroom as fast as we could, but it was too late. Dad had shot himself in the head, and was dead before he hit the ground. Mom went hysterical, screaming and clawing at me to get to dad, but I held her firmly while managing to dial 911 and get an ambulance. He was announced dead on the scene by the medical personnel, and I had to hold mom as she cried and screamed and gasped, yelling vulgar curses about what dad had managed to do to himself.

Life has never been the same again. I blamed myself for his death, even though everyone I talked to told me I couldn’t have stopped it, couldn’t have kept dad from killing himself. Mom and I cried ourselves to sleep every night for several weeks after it happened, but I couldn’t dwell on it. I had to get my mind off of it, and got back to my job as a video-game character and level designer, which helped me delve into fantasy for a while every day.

I felt today would be the day things changed for the better. I knew that from the dream I had that night. I’ve had dreams about dad ever since what happened--mostly scary, some somber, some even saddening--but none as comforting as this one. We were in a black void, facing each other, and he said, “I’m sorry Albert. I over reacted. I want you to be happy and to take care of your mother for me, and to do that, you both have to move on. Get an apartment and move out of the house, make friends, get a girlfriend or a boyfriend, or do something that will make you and your mom happy again. I hate seeing you sad and dwelling on me.” I nodded as he said this, noticeably tearing up. “Anyway, it’s time to get up son. Give your mama a hug and kiss for me, okay?” I nodded, wanting to hug him, but I woke up before being given the chance.

I decided against telling mom about the dream, thinking that she would be hurt that I could even entertain the thought of dad reaching out to me in a dream. But then she asked the question I was dreading. “Well well well, Albert, you’re seeming quite chipper today. Have a good dream?” I knew lying to her would be no good, knowing that she could see through all of my lies easily since I was a kit. I told her about the dream, and she smiled and said, “That’s strange, I had a feeling that you saw and heard something happy in your dream, but I never expected you to have a dream like that, especially after all the nightmares that left you panting in a cold sweat.” I was relieved that mom didn’t get angry, but confused when she stopped the tears that were matting her cheek fur down. I kissed her on the cheek, thanked her for breakfast, and got to my motorcycle, a big, bad-a** Harley. I put on my helmet and leather riding jacket and took it easy as I coasted down the highway to the Capcom office where I worked.

That day was just like any other day at work, new characters, levels, villains, and enemies for the latest Resident Evil game. “Damn I love working for Capcom!” I thought to myself as I finished the final boss design I was working on. A hideous, gigantic, bloody horde of mutilated corpses. Usually it’d be called something like “Legion: the one that is many” or something like that, but I found something more fitting, and affectionately dubbed him “Corpse eater”, because in the final boss battle, its human master would dump fresh corpses in to replenish its size and health an infinite number of times until you were able to plug up the corpse vents. It never really EATS the corpses, it just takes them and unifies them with the core, making them extensions of its real body, as well as armor and padding.

That night, I felt like trying to seduce another male. I could hardly believe I was still a virgin at twenty-five. I had never slept with, or even had interest in others during high-school and college, mostly trying to focus on my grades and studies.

To be Continued...


Again, PM me with your E-Mail to get the full story, and feel free to give constructive criticism.