Monday morning. Dawn broke under heavy cloud cover. Lightning flashed inside the heavy cloudbanks. The air was heavy, oppressive. It smelled of rain. The storm was waiting to break.

Inside, at least one spot in the school was rather more cheerful: Tyr's locker. It was stuffed with notes from his legions of female fans, showing and offering heir support in various ways, and his locker itself had been plastered with various shades of pink hearts.

"Thank you, ladies!" He had called down the apparently-empty hallway, laughing warmly.

The response had been a rush of giggles like the wind in the trees.

Dylan had felt their glares on him all throughout gym class. Tyr Rex and his lackeys. It would have been nigh impossible for him not to feel threatened. But he knew they wanted him nervous, on edge, so he forced himself to relax. They'd had their kicks (and punches); they'd leave him alone.

Today, Emi joined them at the lunch table, sitting on Dylan's right side, as Benny sat to his left. She seemed jealous of Dylan's lunch, several peanut butter/apple/banana/honey/jelly sandwiches and some rather more tame chocolate, crème-filled snack cakes.

"You two should really think about getting your recipe book printed. Could sell for big money, I'll bet!" She said, biting into her hazelnut spread sandwich.

Dylan and Benny shared a thoughtful glance. They had talked about it a bit before, but in a joking manner, never seriously expecting it to be more than an elaborate joke between them.

"You think so? More of a joke than anything; just for fun," Benny giggled, though sounded more serious than amused.

"Pretty sure it takes money to get something like that off the ground, even," Dylan shrugged. "We can't all be preps."

Emi tapped her fingers on the tabletop as she thought. "What if I put up the capital for the venture? Enough to print an initial run, get this off the ground. Very limited. Say, thirty first-edition books, signed by the creators. With the profits from those, you'll have enough to make another, bigger printing. Word will have spread by then, and then you'll be rolling in cash!"

"...And what do you get out of this?" Benny asked suspiciously after a few moments of stunned silence.

"Twenty percent of the profits," Emi grinned, rather like a shark. "And an official dedication. Plus one autographed copy."

Benny took her paw and kissed it gently, then winked. "Emi, if this pans out, I will be your personal chef."

Emi blushed, hid her face with her bushy tail, and tittered. "Oh my. We have a deal, then!"

Benny shook her paw, laughing excitedly. "Hear that, Marshmallow? We're going to be moderately well-off possibly!"

Dylan laughed and shook his head, almost not quite believing what had just happened. "Oh, you guys."

Emi joined in, too, and they finished lunch feeling fine.

***

"Bring the book tomorrow for Emi, then, yeah?" Benny confirmed as they stopped at the intersection. "She's pulling some strings with her mom, she says. She'll have the official copies in no time."

Dylan chuckled a little, looking up at the leaden-grey sky. "Shoot, hard to believe that's really happening, isn't it?"

"Maybe you should get beat up more often," Benny winked, laughing. "Good things seem to happen, yeah?"

Dylan snorted laughter. "Oh yeah, sounds great. I'll throw myself into traffic; probably win the lottery."

"That's the spirit!" Benny howled, slapping his friend on the arm. "See you tomorrow, Dylan Trump."

"Yeah, see you then, Benny Ford," he grinned.

They parted ways, Benny's near-ceaseless laughter echoing to the skies.

Dylan noted the limousine just down the street from his house with some curiosity. It was not something he usually saw, or expected to see, especially around his neighborhood. But then again, he didn't really know his neighbors all that well. Maybe one was an affluent businessfur?

He turned as the fur on the back of his neck bristled. There was nothing behind him save for swaying trees and the usual cars parked along the road and in driveways. Nevertheless, he was uneasy.

Just before he reached his house, the doors of the limo swung open. The figures who stepped out were clad in black, but were not businessmen. They looked more like gang-bangers in their black hoodies and pants. Well, the giraffe was just wearing a black sweatshirt, really, and a mask. It'd be hard to make a hoodie to fit-

'A giraffe? Ohh, fuck me, I know what this is!' Dylan paled as he realized who the rapidly-approaching figures were. He tried to run, but it was too late. A paw fell on his shoulder and spun him around.

There was no pretense, no verbal warning. A fist smashed into his face, and he fell on his ass, stunned. Then the rest of the group was upon him, punching, kicking, bruising, pounding.

Then there was a sharp whistle, and the blows stopped falling. Every inch of his body throbbed with pain as he heard the distinctive sound of crutches coming. They stopped, and his stomach was jabbed harshly with a tip. He forced his swollen eyes open, looked up.

"You mouthed off. You broke my leg. I should break yours. But I'm feeling... mellow, today. I’ll leave you here to scrape yourself off the pavement. Mouth off again..." The wolf, glaring, spat on him. "I, personally, will destroy you. Right after your friends."

Lightning struck not too far away. Thunder crashed above their heads. The wind stirred into a frenzy. The skies opened, and it started to rain.

"Roll out," the wolf said. 

Something made a slight impact on his stomach, and Dylan heard the clacking of crutches fade into the distance. Car doors slammed, and an engine started, grew louder, faded.

It was storming now. His clothes were plastered to him, and he was plastered to the sidewalk. He couldn't move a muscle; the pain was too extreme. The rain lashed him, cold and furious. The world went black.

***

Warmth. Light. Pain.

Dylan tried to open his eyes, but could only see a sliver of the world, swollen and blackened as they were. He closed them again.

He reached out with his other senses. The couch felt like his, the same loose spring buried somewhere in there an uncomfortable pressure on his back. The smell of food was in the air. He could hear the sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen.

He coughed, painfully.

Footsteps approached. "Dylan? Dylan, are you finally awake?"

A feminine voice he'd only heard a few times, and recently. He tried to turn his head towards where he thought the noise was coming from. His neck was stiff, and cried out. "E-Emi...? 'S that you...?" His lips were swollen and dry.

"Oh, Dylan! Thank the gods you are awake!" Emi squeaked in relief. "We were so worried!"

Dylan sighed, tried to lick his lips. "Benny...?"

Heavier footsteps than before approached. "I'm here, too, Marshmallow. Geez, man, I didn't really mean you should go get beat up!"

Dylan chuckled raspily, which turned into a coughing fit. Then, a glass was being pressed to his lips, strong arms helping him sit up. "Drink up, but slowly," Emi commanded. "Benny's got you, just relax."

Dylan drank gratefully, the water sliding painfully down his swollen throat. He reached out and pushed it away gently when he'd had enough. "Thanks... I don't feel too bad, actually."

Benny barked a bit of laughter. "You look a lot worse, man, trust us. Tyr left you his pills, clinical-grade painkillers. His idea of a joke, or something."

Dylan nodded, shifting to prop himself up against the couch. "Well, I'm man enough to admit I need them. How'd you find me?"

There was silence for a moment before Emi spoke up. "Well, um, funny story! You see- you're going to laugh, really-" she stammered nervously, "-I, um, was following you home."

Dylan merely nodded for a moment. Then, calmly, he stated "What the fuck."

"I- er- it was about the recipes! And I never got your number!" Emi cried quickly. "I wasn't really stalking you! Really!"

Dylan just sighed. "You know what, it's cool, alright? Whatever."

There was moment or two of uncomfortable silence, Emi desperately indicating to Benny to say something.

"So, what's our plan of attack? How do we get revenge on these jerks, huh?" He asked with forced cheer, clapping his paws together.

"We don't," Dylan said flatly, scowling. "This is over now. They'll stop. And if I try anything, they're going to take it out on you guys. Tyr Rex said as much."

"But... We have to do something..." Emi protested weakly. "We can't just let them-"

"We can and we will!" Dylan growled fiercely. "We must! If you have any respect for me, if I am the Hero you think I am, no one must retaliate! It can only get worse!"

Benny and Emi gasped, exchanged a wide-eyed glance. "This is bullshit..." The hyena grumbled.

Dylan sighed, talking gently again. "Yeah, well. The world sucks, Benny. I'm sorry."

After a moment, the hyena's paw fell on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "I'm going to finish up supper, alright? Emi will be here with you."

A slight weight settled onto the couch next to him, and there was an exceedingly gentle touch on his paw. "I'm right here, Dylan. I'm sure you can't see too well right now, so you don't have to let go if you don't want..."

Judging by the sound of receding footfalls, Benny had returned to the kitchen. Dylan put his other paw on top of Emi's, holding it between his. "Thank you, Emi. You're very nice."

The squirrel girl giggled cutely. "Of course. Anything for my Hero."

Dylan grinned a little. He kind of liked the sound of that.

***

Tyr grinned wickedly, supremely satisfied. "Wonderful work, men. That was a fucking awesome show."

"Hell, that felt great," Paul laughed brutally, pounding a fist into his palm. "I love beating on geeks."

"The look on his face-" Imp began.

"-Was priceless," Lex finished, laughing. "Wish I'd had-"

"-A camera. Fucking Kodak moment," Imp finished this time.

Wilt shook his head a little. It was still eerie how the two played off each other like that. "Always love stomping runts."

"Calls for a celebration, boys! You guys get your arm candy and come over to my place. We'll order pizzas and you-know-what-else. Blast our music, and shake the mansion!"

A rousing cheer went up for Tyr, and Cassie kissed him affectionately.

This, they all agreed, was The Life!

***

"Open wiiiide...!"

"You don't have to feed me, Emi, it's embarrassing. I can do it myself..." Dylan protested sulkily.

"You nearly poked you eye out when we let you try," Benny hooted, laughing. "Just relax, man. Guys would kill for an opportunity like this, being fed exotic delights by a beautiful woman."

Dylan grudgingly opened his mouth, allowing Emi to stick a forkful of food in his mouth. Truth be told, he was kind of enjoying it, but he couldn't let Benny know that.

Emi, slightly frustrated with the slow pace and Dylan's stubbornness, thought quickly. Beckoning Benny over, she whispered her plan in his ear. He stifled sniggers and nodded.

"I'm going to go clean up the kitchen. Have fun, you two," Benny announced, taking no care to hide the fact he was leaving the room.

"Now that he's gone, we can really have some fun," Emi whispered huskily in Dylan's ear.

Before he could ask what she was on about, there was a slightly familiar, immediately pleasurable sensation: she was rubbing his belly. He opened his mouth to moan helplessly, and then a forkful of food was stuffed into it. Automatically, he chewed and swallowed. The feeding combined with the rubbing was somehow very wonderful. He sighed, blushing but relaxing.

Emi blushed, too, secretly thrilled. She was touching his belly! And it was so soft, so squishy...! She bit her lip to stop a moan of her own from escaping and continued to feed Dylan.

As he did not even try to protest, Emi fed Dylan all the sugar/fat/calorie-laden treats he could hold, slowly swelling his stomach out even rounder. The white cat let out a burp as he finished, and she giggled, squirming happily.

Setting the empty plates and silverware aside, Emi straddled Dylan's lap and began using both paws to massage his bulging belly, eliciting a few more burps as she worked, and a deep purr from the cat.

"...Hey Dylan?" she whispered after a while, breath catching in her throat.

"Hmm... Yeah?" he replied after a moment, having to concentrate through the pleasure and warmth.

"I think you... are really sexy..." Emi said even quieter, blushing crimson.

This snapped Dylan back to reality. "You- you do? Me? S-sexy?" He stammered, blushing.

Emi nodded, realized Dylan couldn't see her, and said shyly. "I really, really do. I just... I want to hug you and squeeze you and never let go!"

Dylan hesitated, chewing his lip. Was this right? Was this what he wanted? Was he ever really going to get an opportunity like this again? "Then- then g-go ahead, Emi... Hold onto me..."

The squirrel girl squeaked and latched onto him, panting a little, molding herself to his body.

Dylan could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest, and he moved his arms around her to hold her there. She was rather nicely warm.

Emi couldn't resist Dylan's love-handles, kneading them between her fingers happily. "Ooh, you're so soft, Dylan, it's lovely..."

"Thank you, Emi, I'm glad you think so," Dylan chuckled, pleased. He actually felt... rather cute! And Emi's touch was so wonderful.

He managed to open one eye enough to see Benny standing in the doorway of the kitchen. When the hyena noticed, he gave his friend a proud grin and a thumbs-up.

Dylan grinned back, and returned the triumphant gesture.

***

The party was in full swing in Le Manoir De Machson. Paul had brought chips and Lena, a female bulldog with a face only another bulldog could love. Wilt had brought brownies and Shelly, a "raver" zebra girl with most of her white stripes dyed different colors. Imp and Lex had brought ice cream and sundae toppings respectively; lacking dates, they were pretending that they had brought each other. Tyr had beer, and of course, Cassie.

Currently, the jaguar and gazelle were dancing a dramatic tango across the floor. They stomped, twirled, kicked, stopped. Perfectly in sync, they spun and finished with a flourish, Imp leaning over with Lex in his arms, each panting a little.

This show was met with thunderous applause, foot-stomping and laughter from the others. It had been quite a show to watch. The pair straightened up and bowed, grinning widely. It was one of their favorite routines.

"Oh, you love me! You really love me...!" Lex said dramatically, in a convincing falsetto, clasping his paws next to his face.

With a flick of his crutch, Tyr draped a pair of boxers on the jaguar's head, screeching in a rather more ear-splitting mockery of a woman's voice "Eee! Have my panties, Lex!"

This, and the jaguar's desperate, flailing reaction as he tried to get them off, caused another uproar of laughter from the group, even Imp.

Lex pretended to be offended, huffing and stomping from the room, swaying his hips, every inch the scorned supermodel. The room was breathless in paroxysms of laughter by the time he came back in, bowing again briefly.

Soon, the dozen pizzas arrived, and the party swung on.

Tyr still thought himself, despite his broken leg, every inch the athlete. He may have looked the part, but he couldn't physically perform the part, for the time being. He knew this too well.

What he did not realize, however, is that he should not have been eating like the athlete he thought he was. Any coach, nutritionist, or serious athlete will tell you- they need massive amounts of energy, which means a lot of calories. They burn these up in workouts, practice, and games.

Tyr was doing none of these. Despite what he said and his projected mood, he was enjoying relaxing. He still had all the benefits- fame, glory, adoring fans -but none of the pressure, the stress, the- well, there was still pain.

And there were still parties. And where there were parties, three things were sure to be: food, beverages, and the beloved, worshipped, god among men Tyr Machson.

So Tyr ate an entire large, supreme pizza himself, as usual. He didn't shy away from half a dozen thick brownies. He chowed down on a huge sundae, with all the toppings. He scarfed down a pound of chips and a container of dip. He had a few cans of beer, all empty calories, without fear.

After all, he was Tyr Machson: god among men! What worries did he have?

***

"Good night, Dylan. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Emi said, squeezing his paw.

Dylan smiled gently and nodded. "Good night, Emi. Thanks for everything. You're awesome."

Emi giggled shyly. "So are you, Dylan. Good night."

"Good night," Dylan said again as she left. He heard the door close behind her, and then a weight dropped onto the couch next to him.

"Lucky bastard," Benny grumbled good-naturedly. "Karma loves you, doesn't she?"

"Maybe so," Dylan laughed. "Thanks for being here, too, Benny. It means a lot to me, you know."

"Aw, dude, I couldn't trust you not to fall down the stairs like this, of course I'm sticking around," Benny chuckled, embarrassed.

"I don't have stairs, Benny," Dylan laughed.

"My point exactly!" Benny exclaimed, then giggled. "But are you sure you don't want to tell your parents? This is some pretty serious shit..."

Dylan frowned. "No, I don't. I don't want this escalating, like I said."

Benny sighed helplessly. "Alright. It's your decision, 'Mallow, I'll trust you... You are my hero, after all."

"Aww, come over here and hug me for that and pretend I hugged you first, you big sap," Dylan smiled, opening his arms.

Benny giggled and hugged his friend carefully, laying against his chest and belly for a while. "You're a great friend, Marshmallow..."

Dylan sniffed a bit, feeling his eyes getting moist. "Thanks, Benny. You are, too. I don't know what I'd do without you..."

After a few moments, Benny asked incredulously "Marshmallow, are you crying?"

"...Maybe a little," Dylan admitted ruefully. "But only because my body feels like it's been through a trash compactor."

Benny snickered and pushed himself out of the embrace. "You pansy, that's nothing. I'll get your pills. At least you aren't getting all sappy on me."

"No way," Dylan laughed, chest flaring in pain. "Old Ironsides, that's me."

With Benny's help, he managed to swallow the painkiller and a glass of soda.

"Hey, I gotta get going, but I'll be back in the morning to check up on you," Benny said. "If you still can't see anything, we'll both call in sick and hang out here all day, what do ya say?"

Dylan smiled, touched. "You'd do that? Thanks, Benny."

"Bah, it ain't nothing," Benny chuckled flippantly. "Better excuse than most for skipping school."

"Oh, before you go," Dylan said quickly, reaching out to where he thought the hyena was, "could you help me to my room? Don't want to fall down the stairs, after all."

Benny tugged him up and threw his arm around his shoulder, supporting him. "Of course, Marshmallow," he cackled as they limped down the hall together.

They got Dylan situated in his bed with a minimum of fuss. "Take the spare key with you. The door will be locked in the morning when you come over," the cat said.

"Will do. Sweet dreams, Marshmallow," Benny replied, snickering.

"Good night, Benny..." Dylan yawned, stretching. "You too."

He was asleep even before Benny made it out of the house, and his dreams that night were indeed sweet.