FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The night had been quite dark and the drive to the casino had made things even darker. Despite the bright flashing lights, the dazzling displays of whimsy and fountains that were spurting streams of water in intricate patterns, no one dreaded this particular visitation more then Greg.

The horse had gotten out of his car and was making his way towards the building's entrance. Normally he was confident and acted like the handsome stud that he thought himself to be, but tonight could very well be his last on this planet. That thought alone was sobering and it was enough to make him feel more than a little deflated. Still, he had a responsibility to himself and his family, a wife and daughter. If he remained a coward, he would lose them all and everything else.

Greg was a stallion of about thirty years old. He was athletic and lean, though not overly buff, but he was good looking, at least that's what his wife and friends often told him. Back in college he could get any woman that he wanted and was prone to even having multiple partners through the span of a week, so he never doubted any of the compliments.

Once inside, the equine didn't really know what to do. He looked around the casino as he drifted farther in, walking over to where a fancy old car was set on a slowly rotating pedestal. It was obviously for show, a plaque on a pole claimed to be the first car that the casino owner ever bought and then some inspirational quote down at the bottom. Greg couldn't help but glare at the vehicle and for a moment he contemplated hawking a wad of spit on the nice, shiny paint, but before he could someone came up from behind him.

"Come with me," came a rough, growling voice, causing the horse to turn around and see a very burly doberman. Greg felt small next to this man, despite him being three inches taller than the dog. His fine black and brown coat shone in the overhead lights. He wore a short sleeved shirt that clung to his body and greatly accentuated his biceps, and a vest that read 'security' across the chest. A dark pair of sunglasses settled over the canine's muzzle obscured his eyes and a clear wire connected the inside of his shirt to his ear. His name tag read: DeSoto.

The horse swallowed hard and nodded, the canine intimidating him into silence. When the dog turned and began to walk off towards a set of doors, Greg followed quite closely. The horse had been to this casino many times before, he knew its outlay pretty well but where they were going now was forbidden to everyone that weren't a part of the casino's staff.

The lights and chiming sounds of the slot machines and music drifted away as the two took a winding path of hallways and stairs around to what must have been the very deep recesses of the establishment. Greg felt himself withdraw further into himself as silence encased them. Along the way they didn't even see other staff members, it was like a deserted area that had been forgotten, though things still looked very tidy. More ghost town than Mad Max.

DeSoto made the way to an elevator that was completely painted red and only had one button on it. He pressed it and the doors came open, but he didn't step inside. Instead, he gestured for the horse to go in first, likely making sure that Greg didn't decide to run off if given the chance, as this was the last door before they got to the casino's owner. If the horse was one thing, it was at least brave. He walked in and was followed by the doberman. Another button pushed inside began to make them go up.

No music played and the quietness of the ride up was very uncomfortable. Greg glanced at the doberman from the side and saw that the towering canine was staring forward and not moving like some sort of robot. Greg opened his mouth to say something but hesitated. He fought over what she should say, but in the end went with what what was nagging the most at the back of hid mind.

"So what's going to happen to me when we see Bruce?" he asked timidly. The doberman didn't answer, didn't even flinch. It was like he didn't even hear what the horse had said. The dog's steely exterior made the equine stay silent for the rest of the trip up, not even looking at him until they rolled to a stop and the doors came open.

Again, Greg was forced to step out first with DeSoto coming up on the rear. The room that they had come out into was a nice, open space with couches lining the right wall while a large bar dominated the other side. This was Bruce's private room where he often brought hookers and clients that wanted to buy his drugs. It also doubled as a safe house in case the police came around, though he had most on his payroll to let him do whatever he wanted.

At the center of the room was a small, circular stage with a stripped pole set at the center of it. A wrap around couch dominated half of the viewing area of the stage, and set right at the center of it was a figure that Greg had known quite well.

Bruce was a thick crocodile that was similar in size to DeSoto, though not nearly as fit. A gut hung from over his waist and he didn't really come off as the type that worked out at all. No, his muscle came from often having to do dirty work for his own business. He was dressed very well, black pants clung to his wide legs, a gray dress shirt and a black coat hung over his shoulders. A myriad of gold chains hung from around his neck, an amount that made Greg's neck hurt just by looking at it.

Read the full story here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/17349043