The Best Man

"Okay," Brian DuPoint said as he stepped back from the mirror. "How do I look?"

Tyrone Stripes slowly slid his I-phone into his pocket and regarded his best friend. Brian was a gangly stork of a man. Not a man of a stork -- he had no beak or feathers, after all -- but he definitely had the same build. Long legs, thin belly, thin neck, long nose. His eyes were watery blue. And he was wearing glasses. However he glowed. Glowed with the giddy, joyous light of a man about to be married. The suit was also swank as hell.

Tyrone lifted two black thumbs and grinned, his tail switching from side to side.

"Bro?" he said. "You got this."

Brian breathed out a sigh of relief and rubbed his hands along his head.

The door to the changing room burst open. Tyrone sprang forward, ready to shield Brian from view in case it was Glenda coming in. He immediately relaxed as Shuna stuck her head in. Her long snout twitched nervously and the quills that she had combed back behind her head long a long set of dreadlocks were poofed out. She clutched onto the door with her claws and squeaked.

"Clarissa's boyfriend showed up!"

"Is that bad?" Brian asked. "Wait, Clarissa is dating someone?"

"Yeah, why are you looking like someone ate all your flowers?" Tyrone asked, frowning.

"Clarissa is dating Ryan!" Shuna hissed.

Tyrone and Brian met their eyes. "Hoboy," they said, unison.

Brian rubbed his face with his hands, sighing quietly. "Wait, why the fuck is Clarissa dating Ryan?"

"I don't think she knows," Shuna said, her quills twitching.

Tyrone shook his head. "Well, don't worry. This is what we polisci students call a self correcting demographic issue." He grinned at his best friend. Brian shook his head.

"Dude," he said. "My Grandad is here."

"And?" Tyrone asked.

"He fought in World War 2."

"And?" Tyrone still felt like he was missing important elements. "Ryan's not a German or anything."

"No, he's just the guy who shared the libtard cucks should get the gas chamber Pepe the Frog meme last week on Facebook," Shuna hissed, her eyes narrowing.

"And my granddad is on Facebook, Tyrone," Brian whispered. "Do you know what he told me? He told me he used pukes like that as sandbags, Tyrone. Tyrone. Dude."

"Eesh, you're right," Tyrone rubbed his black hands along his snout, his tail twitching from side to side as he considered the ramifications. "Your grandad is, like, ninety years old. He might get hurt."

"It's not him I'm worried about," Brian said, shaking his head. "It's my fiancee -- she told me she always wanted a perfect wedding, and now Ryan is going to-"

"Bro!" Tyrone lifted his hands. He beamed at his friend, his ears perking up as he nodded. "I got this."

###

Tyrone and Shuna peeked around the corner of the door that lead into the large banquet hall that the pre-wedding celebration was being held. The masses who had come to celebrating the wedding came in two rough types. There were the furries, of course, and the humans. Brian DuPont's family were all human save for his Uncle P.B, who was sitting with his wife, Brian's favorite aunt, in the corner and excitedly texting on his new smart phone. The furs came from Glenda's family and were, almost to a T, the same species: Gazelles. There were male gazelles in orthodox outfits -- black suits and kippahs and tallits. There were female gazelles wearing less clothes here than at a beach. There were children gazelles who still bashed their heads against one another for fun. And there was Glenda's Mom, Miss Curlhorn, hitting on Brian's favorite lit-sci teacher, Mr. Simba, who was looking at her like she was a hunk of meat.

The fact that he was a black panther just made the obvious seduction all the more cliched.

Predator/prey? Tyrone thought. Really, Miss Curlhorn? Glenda's father would be spinning in his grave!

"There he is," Shuna whispered, pointing with her paw at the table near the off center. Ryan was sitting there beside Clarissa, who was chatting with him. Clarissa was looking as luminous as Tyrone remembered her: She was an athletic black girl, with a frizzy afro that exploded around her head, accentuating her smile and her laughter, while her tribal tattoos wound along her forearms and her neck. Ryan looked exactly like what Tyrone had expected him to look from Brian's stories. Muscular, with a tan that looked store bought and hair he had bleached almost white. He was wearing sunglasses inside and a white suit, after labor day.

The hack.

"So, what's your plan?" Shuna asked.

"Plan A? Punch him in the junk," Tyrone said.

Shuna squeaked, her quills busting up and causing her dress to almost fall off. Like most porcupines, she wore what (on other people) might be called a virgin killer sweater. But on porcupines, it was less evocative, and more just practical.

"You can't!" she said.

"I was kidding," Tyrone said. "We just need Clarissa to dump him. Shouldn't be hard."

"Okay," Shuna said, sighing. "Be careful." She leaned up and bumped his muzzle with her snout -- pressing the damp tip of her nose against him. He grinned and then patted her back (carefully) and Shuna turned to scamper off to her flower arranging. Tyrone reached up and adjusted his collar, then walked out to where Clarissa and Ryan were sitting. He plopped himself down in a chair and grinned at Clarissa.

"Hey! Clarissa, right?" he asked, his voice femmy enough to make Ryan's back prickle -- if him being a zebra and also Brian's best friend wasn't enough. Ryan was the jealous sort, and the worst kind of jealous. If he had had the good sense to at the very least be gay, then Tyrone could have gotten how possessive he was over people hanging with Brian. Just being racist and the worst kind of 'bro-ey' straight guy made the whole thing that much worse.

"Hey," Clarissa said, eying him curiously.

"I'm Tyrone -- the best man and best friend of Brian. You were a friend from high school?" Tyrone asked, holding out his hand with a slightly limp gesture. "Can I just say? Loooove that tat."

Clarissa giggled. "Thanks," she said, grinning as she took his hand, shaking it. Ryan bristled -- though Tyrone wasn't sure which was making him more pissed off: The touching, the compliment, or the fact that Clarissa didn't shoo him right off.

"So, I met Brian in college," Tyrone said. "He told me so much about both of you." He nodded. "Though I didn't know you two were an item." He patted Clarissa's shoulder gently.

"We are," Ryan said -- his voice a low growl.

"Ryan." Clarissa sounded shocked. She probably had never heard him speak like that before. But Tyrone saw this as a perfect chance to go in for the kill. Part of him felt vaguely dirty as he leaned in and smiled at Ryan.

"Brian didn't say you were so handsome," he said, winking at Ryan. The flutter of his left hand was juuuust enough to send Ryan over the edge, the other boy getting up as he grabbed Tryone's shirt, snarling.

"The fuck are you implying, z-" Ryan stopped himself -- but Clarissa was looking at him with wide eyes. Ryan looked at her, then back at Tyrone. Tyrone repressed his urge to stick his tongue out at him and just let Ryan try and 'fix' the situation. "Babe, he's getting all in your private space, I-"

"I don't mind," Clarissa said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Ryan, you're being a dick. What the hell?"

"I-" Ryan looked back at Tyrone. "This, uh, zebra-"

"He's got a name!" Clarissa said, angrily.

Ryan's face twisted and he snarled. "This fucking asshole turned Brian against me, okay, Clarissa? We were best friends before Brian met him and his liberal SJW buddies at college!" He glared at Tyrone, who shrugged.

"I prefer to think of myself more as a Social Justice Bard," he said. "I tend to sing in the shower too much to be a straight warrior class -- besides, I don't work out enough for that sweet ten percent XP bonus."

Ryan looked baffled -- but Clarissa giggled. Ryan didn't look baffled anymore. He looked betrayed. He turned his gaze back to Tyrone, who had grabbed his wrist and shoved his back and away from his chest. Ryan reacted by throwing a punch. Tyrone blocked it with one arm and refrained from punching back -- because as satisfying as it would have been, what followed was infinitely more entertaining.

"Ryan!" Clarissa sprang to her feet. "Maybe you should go home, if you can't stop being an asshole at your best friend's wedding!"

By now, some people were glancing over at the three of them.

Ryan, panting, snarled: "You're dumping me because this zigger showed up to start shit!?"

Tyrone closed his eyes, pursing his lips in a silent 'oooh'. And that, as they said, was the straw that broke the camel's back. Which had always struck him as a mildly unfair saying to be slapped on camels, who already had enough bad reputation to fight again without people constantly metaphorically snapping their spines.

Clarissa picked up the glass beside the table and threw it in Ryan's face -- snarling: "Get the fuck out."

Tyrone grabbed his arm, smiling cheerily. "You heard the lady!"

Ryan grabbed Tyrone back -- but now Tyrone put his full strength into shoving Ryan towards the door. The doors swung open and Ryan went pitching forward, tumbling head over heels onto the grass that spread around the church. Tyrone brushed off his hands and smiled down at him.

"Enjoy the wedding, Ryan," he said. "And so you know, it was actually Brian who suggested I go into polisci, which is what really added the SJW cuckness to my libtard ass." He grinned. "Caio."

The door shut behind him as he turned back to the main chamber of the wedding reception. Most of the guests had gone back to talking -- the kids hadn't even noticed the goings on, as removed as it had been from the center of the room. But there was a grizzled, tough looking gazelle who looked like he was easily the same age as Brian's granddad. He nodded to Tyrone. Tyrone nodded back, then murmured: "So, uh, we can keep this from the blushing bride?"

"Yes," the older gazelle said -- his accent thick and slightly polish. "This is very easy. You have chutzpah."

"That's what the doctor said," Tyrone said, winking at the old man -- who made a shooing gesture with his hands. Returning to the table, he found Clarissa with her hands in her lap, her head hanging forward. That frizzy afro didn't hang over her eyes -- it was easy to see that she was near tears. Her nose was thick and stuffed up as she mumbled.

"Sorry."

"Heyyy." Tyrone sat down beside her. "Hey. It's cool." He slid his arm around her shoulder, drawing her in for a tight hug. She leaned against him -- her palm spreading across the fabric of his suit jacket, ruffling the soft blackness of the material. She sniffled.

"I'm just such an idiot," she said. "Like, why didn't anyone tell me Ryan was a fucking tool?"

"Well, it's not like he concealed it on Facebook," Tyrone said.

Clarissa drew back, looking up at him. "I-I don't use Facebook. I-It's just, you know, bullshit." She sniffled. "God, I'm an idiot. A-And now I'm getting snot on your suit! Ugh, I'm sor-"

"Nah, it's fine." Tyrone cut her off before she could spiral around the same self loathing hole again, smiling down at her. He reached up -- sweeping some of her tears away with a single, broad, black thumb. He leaned close, whispering to her. "I got this."

Clarissa blinked -- her cheeks darkening almost imperceptibly.

###

Clarissa's dress went flying as Tyrone finished tugging it over her head. Her breasts were small and perky and not even hidden behind a bra -- her dark brown nipples hard nubs that Tyrone's black hands found and squeezed gently. She groaned and backed against the wall of the bathroom, panting heavily as she slid her hands along Tyrone's hips. She squeezed him and whispered. "I-I can't believe we're doing this!"

"Mmm," Tyrone murmured. He leaned forward, his muzzle pressing to her neck. His tongue darted out, licking sweat off her ebony black skin as her hands -- far from slack -- went to the back of his ass. She squeezed him as his hands pushed her panties down around her hips, revealing the wild snarl of her pubic hair, her glistening pussy lips. She looked down, panting heavily.

"You're fucking fine, babe," Tyrone said, quietly, kissing her chest, then kissing one of her breasts. His mouth opened and he sucked almost her whole tit into his long snout -- his tongue circling around and around her nipple, his hands squeezing her ass as her knees knocked together -- contained as they were by the straps of her panties.

Clarissa rolled her head back and groaned. "Tyrone!"

His fingers had found her pussy -- warm, wet. Sensitive, from the way her fingernails dug into his broad shoulders. His thumb rubbed a slow circle around her clit as his fingers plunged into her, crooking and finding her G-spot. From the tiny, shocked gasp that he wrung from her, Tyrone wouldn't have bet that any of her previous boyfriends had known a good goddamn about what they were doing. This left him feeling vaguely smug.

Then Clarissa got a look at his cock.

"Holy fuck, you're huge," she whispered, her eyes widening in shock as she looked down.

Tyrone stepped back -- his shaft bobbing slightly in the air as he kicked his hooves free from his pants. He looked down and tried to judge. His cock was a long, hard, black shaft -- ringed at the midway point with a hard ridge. His balls were both the size of a young child's fists, bobbing and bouncing together slightly as he spread his thighs a bit. His musk filled his own nose -- a rich, masculine scent he had always liked. And from the way Clarissa breathed in -- then moaned -- she was a fan as well.

"I've heard something similar from others," Tyrone said, quietly -- his hand gently sliding through her afro. It took a tiny push to send Clarissa to her knees, and she seemed quite happy to start rubbing her cheek against his zebra-cock. "But you know what they say. You always need second opinions."

Clarissa's happy giggle was somewhat muffled by the fact that her lips had opened and she had started to suck gently on his balls. Her tongue darted out, sliding along his black scrotum, her hands reaching up to cup and stroke his cock. Her fingers squeezed the base of his cock and some thick, white pre-cum started to drip from the flat tip. She drew her mouth back, greedily licking at his cock tip. Lick, wait, lick, wait. Every time pre seemed to show itself, Clarissa leaned forward and licked. Her eyes were going somewhat hazy as she moved from that to closing her mouth around his cocktip, her jaw hanging wide open as she made a quiet grunting noise -- as if realizing just how big he was.

She drew her mouth back, leaving the tip of Tyrone's cock gleaming.

"Fuck h-how does this even fit?"

"Hard work," Tyrone murmured, his hand sliding to the base of his cock. He rubbed the tip slowly across her lips, making Clarissa moan as his pre smeared against her lips, along the underside of her nose. Her eyes almost rolled back into her head as she breathed his scent in. "Perseverance. Oh. And teamwork." He winked at her.

Clarissa opened her mouth. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth and Tyrone gently started to push his cock between her lips. Clarissa closed her eyes, making quiet, eager noises at the base of her throat. She managed, between Tyrone's gentle insistence and her throat relaxing, to get six inches of black zebra cock into her throat before she put her hands on his hips, stopping him. She started to suck, bobbing her head up and down as Tyrone panted and enjoyed the ride. Her hands weren't slack either. They closed around his shaft and started to pump him up and down, up and down. Tyrone's balls swayed, bumping against her knuckles as she moved her head forward and back. She took a seventh inch, her throat relaxing as she got more and more into it.

The door to the bathroom opened and Brian walked in, sighing.

He froze, his eyes wide as he looked at his best man -- shuddering and groaning and bucking his hips -- and his high school friend, on her knees, her mouth overflowing with hot, white, spunk. It dripped from around her mouth, dribbled down her chin, and splashed onto her breasts, leaving htem gleaming with whiteness and slickness. Some more cum dripped down the shaft, collecting on the ends of Tyrone's black balls, before splashing onto the tile floor of the bathroom.

"You, uh..." Brian gulped. "You two, uh, need...privacy? T-There's a non public bathroom, like, just...over...there." He jerked his thumb to the left.

"Nah, bro," Tyrone panted as Clarissa drew her mouth back -- her lips closing, her cheeks as bright red as any girl's had ever been. And yet, despite her clear mortification, that didn't stop her from swallowing, shuddering with pleasure, then starting to lick her fingers clean.

Tyrone turned to face Brian -- then gave him a big thumbs up.

"I got this!"

Brian stepped back.

Closed the door.

Tyrone looked down at Clarissa. The black girl waited about five seconds before leaning her head forward, cupping her breasts and pushing them up so she could start licking the cum off their tops. She wasn't having much luck -- so instead, she started scooping it up with her fingers and licking them clean. She managed to speak between licks. "Fucking...goddamn, what do...you eat...pure, nnh, ambrosia?"

"Something like that," Tyrone said, leaning down and helping her up. "You want the main course?"

"Oh fuck yes -- I want you to fuck me so hard I can't walk to the reception," Clarissa said, chuckling. She turned and jerked her head up -- her eyes wide. She looked at herself in the mirror, but her look wasn't a sexy look. It was more a 'oh shit, what have I done?' look. Tyrone blinked -- and felt a bit nervous. He felt even more nervous as Clarissa groaned. "Awww shit."

"What?" he asked.

"I just realized," she said. "I didn't actually say I broke up with Ryan."

Tyrone blinked.

"I-I just told him to leave, shit!" Clarissa looked around -- then pointed. "Phone! Phone!"

Tyrone's hooves clicked on the bathroom floor as he stepped over, stooped, then tossed her the phone. She was hitting speed dial as Tyrone stepped up back behind her. He took a moment to just...admire that fine, tight ass of hers. His hand slid along it, squeezing her -- and drawing a muffled grunt of pleasure from her as she leaned over the sink. This pushed her ass up, and as her thighs spread, revealed her sex. Tyrone got a very wicked grin on his lips.

"Ryan," Clarissa said, her voice remarkably serious for someone who -- just a few seconds before -- had been licking zebra cum off her fingers as if it was life saving medicine. "I just wanted to call to tell yoouuuuuuuuuuuah!" She jerked her head back as inch after inch after inch of thick, black cock spread her lips. Tyrone's hands squeezed her hips as he grinned. Clarissa hung her head forward, her afro squishing against the mirror, her fingers clenching on the phone so hard that the protective casing creaked.

"N-No, I'm fine!" She managed to say halfway normally. "I'm just...ah...dumping your racist ass!" She gritted her teeth as Tyrone hilted himself inside of her, his black balls bumping her belly.

Tyrone beamed into his own reflection -- giving himself a thumbs up.

"Oh fuck, if you have to know," Clarissa gasped. "His dick's inside me right now and, oh god, he's fucking huge!" She hit the red end call button and dropped the phone -- it clattered to the ground. "Asshole!" She managed to gasp out.