Greg wants to go through with it

"Alright, you twisted fuck... let's say I go through with this. But I got conditions, you better raise us right, none of that 'dump the kits in the woods' fox shit. And I wanna go first ain't no way I'm letting Bob hear me screaming like a bitch when your damn testicles starts digesting me."

Rufus throws back his head and howls with laughter, slapping his thigh. "Oh, you’re a riot, Greg! Conditions? Fuck yeah, I’ll play along." He wipes a tear from his eye before fixing Greg with a suddenly serious look, though his tail still wags like a metronome on speed.

"First off, hell no, I ain’t dumpin’ my own kits. You think I’d go through all this trouble just to abandon ‘em? Nah, you’ll get the full fox dad experience, den full of rabbit bones to chew on, lessons on how to hunt chickens without gettin’ shot... the works." He grins, sharp and bright. "Second? Oh-ho-ho, buddy, you absolutely get to go first. In fact." He yanks down his pants in one smooth motion, his already half-hard canine cock springing free with a thick twitch. "how ‘bout right now? No time like the present, am I right?"

He spreads his arms, cock bobbing obscenely between his legs. "C’mon, big guy. Headfirst, remember? And don’t worry ‘bout the screaming my balls’ll muffle it real nice." His grin turns feral. "Unless you wanna call your brother out here to watch? Might make it easier for him to understand what's about to happen if he gets a first-row seat.

As if on cue Bob bursts out the front door with a shotgun "GREG WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT... JESUS CHRIST!" He freezes, staring at Rufus's exposed cock with a mix of horror and confusion

Rufus doesn't even flinch at the gun. Instead, he gives Bob a cheerful wave with one paw while casually stroking himself with the other. "Hey there, Bobby! Perfect timing, your brother was just about to become my first batch of premium baby batter. Wanna join? Two-for-one special tonight."

Greg, face flushed crimson, groans and facepalms. "Goddammit, Bob—I had this under control!"

Bob's grip on the shotgun wavers as his brain visibly short-circuits. "I...you...THAT FOX HAS A DICK THE SIZE OF MY ARM, GREG!"

Rufus winks. "And it’s about to be so much bigger once I get yall inside, sweetcheeks."

"Bob, put the damn gun down! Look... just hear me out. This crazy bastard's offer actually makes a weird kind of sense. We're drowning in debt and this place is falling apart. Maybe... maybe starting over as foxes ain't the worst idea. Hell, at least we won't have to pay property taxes anymore... at least not until we become adults again." Greg rubs his face tiredly "But I swear to God, Rufus, if you're lying about raising us right..."

Rufus's ears flatten dramatically as he clutches his chest like he's been shot, his cock still shamelessly on display. "You wound me, Greg! Cross my heart and hope to die I'll be the best damn fox dad this forest's ever seen!"

Bob lowers the shotgun slightly, his face cycling through about twelve different emotions per second. "You can't be serious. We'd be... we'd be his fucking kids, Greg. Like... nursing and shit."

Rufus nods enthusiastically, tail wagging. "Yup! And I already called two large teats lined up for you two on my gal.But hey, if you're really that worried..." In one fluid motion, he whips out a crumpled, slightly stained "contract" from his vest pocket written in crayon. "Look! Official fox dad oath! I pinkie promise no abandoned kits, no shitty parenting. Just warm den cuddles and all the field mice you can eat."

Greg squints at the crayon scribbles. "This says 'Rufus rules' with a dick doodle at the bottom."

"Legally binding," Rufus confirms solemnly.

"Fine, you win. But liked we agreed earlier Bob goes second, I wanna be there to laugh at his face when your balls start churning him into fox batter. Now how the hell does this work? Do I... do I just climb in or what?"