Bridges by Kyell Gold

Author:Kyell Gold [Gold, Kyell]
Language: eng
Format: epub

How to get through the day

How to get through the day:

Pills.

Set goals.

Keep your mind busy with something you enjoy.

When people ask how you are, say “Good” rather than “Okay.” Even if you don’t feel it.

Do not talk about how you really feel.

Resist the urge to isolate yourself.

Do something good for someone else.

Exercise.

Commend yourself for something you did well today.

Tomorrow will be a good day.

9. Commend yourself for something you did well today.

Fin hung up his vest and touched the sticker on the inside of his closet, reading the words as he did every night. Something you did well today. The swift fox unbuttoned his shirt. It hadn’t been a bad day, but it hadn’t been a particularly good one. Work was work, a dreary monotony of forms and reports and meetings. There’d been no theater rehearsal. He’d resisted the tempting chocolate chip cookies at lunch. There was that.

He tossed his shirt into the hamper and slid a paw down his side. He could afford a few more cookies, to be honest. The memory of his 220-pound self might be persistent, but it was only a memory. Still, indulgence led to habit, as his counselor used to tell him.

There was the call with Amir, setting up another Hay date for tomorrow. That was an indulgence, but it hadn’t yet become a habit. He let his mind linger on the memory of the last one, leaning back in the corner of his couch getting sucked off while watching Amir’s muzzle contort as he fucked the slender red fox. Hayward was good with his tongue, and it was fun watching the little fennec top him, too. Fin had made sure to lay down towels on the couch this time, so he didn’t have to throw the cushion cover in the laundry after.

When Amir’d gone to clean up, Hayward had asked how much Fin had seen of the fennec, and had chided him gently when Fin said ‘a couple times for coffee.’ Really, though Fin appreciated the Hay dates, of course, what business was it of his? But the post-orgasmic warmth kept Fin from voicing those thoughts; he merely said things were moving at their own pace, and that he didn’t see Hayward complaining about having a regular setup.

Fin slid his pants off and threw them into the hamper as well. He brushed a finger along the outline of his sheath, through his boxers. Neither the memory of last week’s Hay date nor the anticipation of tomorrow was stirring it much.

He walked over to his bed. Something you did well today. He wasn’t allowed to lie down until he’d come up with something. No cheating.

He’d made a good breakfast. He remembered that now. He’d bought fresh onions yesterday on the way home, had grated fresh cheese, and the omelette had been pretty good. Better than good; he hadn’t burned it or made much of a mess. He’d thought that if he didn’t do anything else well today, he could count that. In retrospect, it seemed like the most tangible success.

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