Courtside
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Biscuit loved pointing out misconceptions, and in this moment he was extremely aware and extremely silent about the idea that you can't see a wistar rat go pale. As he and his date turned the corner into the entrance of the arena, the sight separating him from the sidewalk and the concourse made all the blood run out of the pink skin of Biscuit's ears. Suddenly the long line stretching practically onto the street made sense. He thought it was just the fervor of a postseason game, the kind of stuff she'd told him to expect if not singling it out specifically- But instead it had to be a metal detector.
Slow as the line moved, and as annoyed as the bombshell bobcat standing cross-armed one step to the front and side of him was, by the time Biscuit knew the danger he was already only moments from disaster. The immediate instinct to turn and run, make it to the next train before his date could catch up and have her deleted from his Fishr app before he reached home, failed him as he took another look at the stunning figure accompanying. The feline had opted for a simple yet revealing black dress befitting the courtside seats the rat had gone through great pains to secure and the service they were expecting. Biscuit himself wasn't too displeased with how he matched her in his best black khakis and shirt, but she was the kind of woman the cameras perched in their nests throughout the arena would suddenly turn to as their red lights blinked off.
Running away now would have kept the rat up for weeks, maybe months as he waited for another bite. It had already been too long since the last date, and that had been an ordeal worth forgetting. Not to mention the boss was going to look for him courtside as he watched on TV. Flustered as he was, Biscuit inched slowly to the line of polycarbonate arches, determined to simply hope for the best.
The guard, a pitbull clearly moonlighting from a bouncer gig, didn't look too patient. Biscuit pushed his glasses up his nose, letting his whiskers twitch as his brain raced through all the possible iterations of the circumstances about to unfold, hoping the intimidating dog methodically waving people through his line would just as soon get one person closer to watching the game himself than ask too many questions of this baby-faced rat that hardly broke five-and-a-half feet.
Sandra went first, of course, practically bouncing the dog's "stop" sign- though he shrugged and waved her through with a polite nod. Biscuit couldn't blame her for being excited, it was all the reason he'd convinced her to accompany him tonight. In her excitement of the news she had made clear how badly she wanted to take advantage of the seats during shootaround to be close enough to her favorite stars she could see dicks bounce in their shorts.
It had really excited Biscuit that she had put it exactly like that.
"Phone, keys, wallet, everything out of your pockets?" the pitbull huffed as he passed a basket, catching the rat by surprise as if he hadn't watched the process a dozen times. Only shaking just enough to look in front of Sandra as if he could be intimidated by any authority figure, Biscuit dropped his personal items into the basket, handed them through and tried to cross the threshold.
"Wait!" the pitbull barked, holding up his palm down to the rat. For a moment, the dog's icy glare met the rat's eyes, but only long enough to force them to the ground. "Step forward."
Biscuit's heart pounded, his dick straining against his cage despite all the rest of his mind and body's better judgment. For a moment he considered refusing, but before he could think too long a paw shoved into his back made him take the first step, and a moment later the sentence came.
*beeeeeep*
The pitbull stared daggers into the offending rat. "Pal, did you empty ALL of your belongings into the tray?" the security guard demanded, his voice drawing the curious looks of the impatient fans behind.
"Yes..." Biscuit whispered.
"Step back and step through. Now!"
Biscuit pirouetted on his heels and stepped back through the gateway, his back stiff as a board as he tried his best to meet the consequences as they played out.
*beeeeeeep*
"Step through!" the bark came, and now the urge to flee was totally gone. The rat resigned himself to fate as he made his next step. It was already happening, now it was only to see it through.
*beeeeeeep*
"Pal," the pitbull now snarled, stepping up to dwarf the shaking rat, "lift em." As the rat complied a wand shoved brusquely under his armpit began its rounds, first along each of his limbs, along his back and chest, and finally coming to life as it passed over the crotch of the unassuming khakis.
"Hey pal," the pitbull now practically spit the words, "I thought you emptied your pockets?"
"I-I did! It- it must be the belt!" the rat squeaked his insistence.
The pitbull reached down to grab the belt buckle, pulling the rat close enough for Biscuit to smell the sweat of the evening's labor under the loose uniform. "This much metal ain't tripped my wand all night. It's telling me you've got something right where people love to hide things I don't want them to bring into my venue."
"Yes, sir..." Biscuit mumbled as his pale ears lowered.
"If you're telling me your pockets are empty, you're going to have to come with me for a private screening."
Biscuit's heart sank. It really was happening. There was no way around it. Biscuit's dick pressing feebly into its dome cap had already accepted it, it was his sense of decency that forced him to choke out a feeble "I'd... rather not?" each word quieter than the last. The guard's ears perkins another level with each.
"I'd rather you fucking have to if you want in my venue pipsqueak. What the fuck is your problem anyway pal?" The pitbull cocked his head to the side, screwing his eyes into the rat before turning to face the bobcat tapping her feet a few steps behind. "He's with you?"
"Yes." She sounded as surprised to say it as the pitbull did to hear it.
"Look, honey. He can't come in without a private screening. Care to impress upon him how much you want to see Game 1?" Sandra's arms uncrossed as she took a deep breath-
"No!" Biscuit interjected, rushing to the pitbull's side to end the scene. "It's fine. It's fine. It can only take a minute right? And you'll see I don't have anything with working about and it'll all be peachy pie?"
"Peachy pie?" the nametag-less pitbull repeated back.
Biscuit stammered. "P-peachy, like, you see I don't have anything, we can go to our seats, you can get back to work, everything p-.... Peach-... are we waiting for somebody?"
"Come with me. Aaron!" he called out to another guard at a nearby arena gate. "I need you to cover for a private."
"Doesn't Angie-"
"Cover. Me. Dickhead." the dog spat as he took Biscuit by the arm and dragged him onto the concourse. Surprisingly, in the bustle and excitement of the playoffs hardly an eye turned to the scene of a rat behind led at the arm by a dog two heads taller than him, but Biscuit noticed every glare he didn't evade. The pitbull's brawny frame did well to break the crowd in front of them, and it was only a moment before an overburdened keyring allowed access into an auxiliary room. "Wait out here, honey," the guard asked of Sandra with a wink as he led Biscuit inside.
The jitters had started to grow into quakes by the time the door slammed shut. Biscuit wanted to protest, but scraping his mind brought no idea of recourse.
"C-c- Can't I request a woman if I'm more c-comfortable?" he pleaded.
The pitbull screwed his eyes into Biscuit and scoffed. "Pervert. Ain't mine, take em off."
Biscuit didn't take the risk of not doing as he was told before continuing his protest, unbuttoning his shirt with trembling fingers. "Didn't Aaron say something about an Ang-"
"Who the fuck is Angie? Don't forget the underw- the fuck are those?"
It's a common misconception you can't see a wistar rat flush. Everybody knows you can see one blush from a mile away though. "Undies," Biscuit insisted.
"Those are panties," the pitbull corrected him. "You wear those on a date?"
Biscuit staked his ground. "Undies are undies, that's what they are! They may be lace-"
"I've seen fucking panties before. You wear those on a date?"
Biscuit didn't answer, his eyes firmly at the ground. The minute of silence goaded him. "For... confidence."
"You can't even see your dick in em pal. They gotta come OFF," the pitbull reiterated. "Do I need to do it myself?"
"No! No- I can do it, it's just-" the panties promptly dropped to reveal Biscuit's package, at least what could be seen squeezing through the thick stainless steel bars of the dome cap that trapped it. "It's just- it's just chastity. It- it's for...." Biscuit choked on his words, his dick straining in the moment to break through the cage as the inspection continued in the slowest agony, but to no avail. The domed cap squeezing all the rat's modest rathood to its most meager state reduced the tool to nothing more than a stubby half-inch that seems to disappear into the rat's crotch the fit was so snug. As Biscuit searched for the ideal, universal explanation, a ribbon of precum dribble down the cap and soaked into the fuzzy white fur of his balls. "I guess you just kind of see what it does, sir."
"That's a weapon," the pitbull immediately insisted. "Not your- whatever you've got under there. That hunk of metal that's stuck to you, that's a blunt object by-the-fucking-book." He pulled a phone from his pocket, a crooked smile over his muzzle as he insisted it was important to document all possible hazards. "It will be returned to you after the event."
Biscuit gasped. This was not a turn even his fantasies had prepared him for. "It... It doesn't come off. There's a key, Sir."
"So get your woman in here and have her give it to you! HEY HON-"
"No!" Biscuit stopped him as he bit into his his lip, working through the wording of the next part in his head. "She does- She doesn't have it."
The pitbull smirked in disbelief. "You left it at h-"
"My boss has it."
"Your boss has it?"
"Yes. He's in, he's in--- Ft. Lauderdale right now. You're going to have to take my word for it, I'm not going to call him on vacation, especially not when he's... well, trying to watch the game. It wouldn't even do me any good, he's- he won't be back until July."
Now the pitbull just stared. "That's fucking four... The pitbull looked to be doing math in his head before shaking the urge off. "I don't care where the fuck he is, why does he have your- You know what I also don't give a fuck why he has it. You can't take it off? It's truly not coming off?"
"No, sir... is... Is is- Is that going to be a problem?"
For the first time a sincere smile spread across the pitbull's face. "You don't know me but I never want there to be a problem where nobody else wants one. That right there is a blunt object, that's a weapon. You tell me you can't take it off, that you don't even have this key or whatever, I don't have to believe you. Of course, I could always be persuaded to have different feelings on things..." The pitbull didn't leave his intentions to imagination. Gracelessly he dropped his pants, a fat cock swaying below the hem of his uniform shirt. "Does anyone have a problem here, pipsqueak?"
Biscuit surveyed the stud in front of him, his eyes turning to dishplates as the imposing meat swung and slowly began to stiffen. The ribbon of precum turned into a gentle dribble, the modest cage itself bobbing as the rat's body fought the restraint. The pitbull raised his shirt to give the total view of his goods, as well as the pack of abs hidden beneath the too-large uniform top, and Biscuit moaned as he fell to his knees and instinctively began to hump the floor as weeks of pent-up lust flooded him.
"No, Sir!" He spurt, "No Sir, no problem, Sir, I-" Biscuit murmured as he rose to his knees and burrowed his face in the pitbull's crotch, allowing himself an envious huff of the humongous dick just long enough not to give away how much he liked it. "I think this is the best way if you think so."
The tool grew quickly in Biscuit paws, becoming a stately mast as the rat pulled back the taut foreskin and swirled the top of his tongue over the exposed head.
"Mmmmm, fuck, I can always tell when it's not their first dick..." the dog put a paw behind the rat's head, pulling him in to bury his dick in the rat's throat. "Oh yeah. Ain't even gag." His hips rocking, the guard fucked the rat's face, the thrusts quickly escalating enough to slap the heavy tan balls like grapefruits against the bottom of Biscuit's chin.
Although he moaned and whined, the rosy tinge of his cheeks gave away the pleasure Biscuit himself didn't want to admit. It hadn't just been so long since circumstances had put a dick in his mouth- never before had he seen such a specimen of a dick in his life. Though at first his motions looked (and felt) mechanical, as the rat's pulse began to slow and his senses return to him the desire to worship the godly cock before his face grew overpowering.
Wordlessly Biscuit demonstrated his appreciation, disturbing himself less at how jubilant he was in his efforts but moreso in how outright good they proved to be. He let the massive staff spread his throat with nary a protest from his body, the tip of his tongue searching when it could for the ridges and valleys of the veins along the bottom of intimidating tool. He might have tried to be worse at it- if not for his conscious mind reminding him of the bobcat waiting outside and their courtside seats and his subconscious mind consistently returning his focus to the hot slab of dick in his throat.
Between his thighs, the humble bump of what manhood the rat was allowed spit and spewed like a broken fountain, the streams and spurts alternately crystal clear and cloudy white. Biscuit had no knowledge of this, no awareness of how loud and fervent his own moans were getting when not choked off- But he did feel an extreme sense of gratefulness that he wouldn't spent the next three hours trying to hide a tent from the beautiful bobcat, that the problem would simply tuck itself away and everything return to normal.
"I don't love this, I just want to get to our seats, I don't love this, I just want to get to our seats" the rat thought to himself again and again as he struggled to explain, as if the trial might begin any moment. "I don't love this. This is for Sandra. To get to our seats."
The soft tapping at the door sent a shiver down Biscuit's spine. He froze for a moment, and heard the knock again just as he returned to his work. He looked up to the pitbull with a face of sorrow for guidance.
"Come in," the pitbull called with a laugh as he grabbed the rat by his ear and turned him to face the door. The gentleness with which the door opened could only have been at the bobcat's paws.
"Is there something I should be concerned ab- Oh my God!" she took a step back into the doorway, her paw covering her gaping muzzle for a moment before being replaced with a look of extreme annoyance.
"I knew you thought it was endearing when you shared those fantasies but I really thought I'd have known you in person for more than thirty minutes before I saw you sucking dick." She stifled a bemused laugh into a clenched paw, shaking her head as she soaked in the scene, a toothy grin spreading across her face against her knowledge.
Biscuit didn't have anything to do but blush. "Please..." he whispered. "The door."
The bobcat took a step inside, letting the door close behind her as she crossed her arms and shivered in the chilly room, first looking around in disgust at the dingy setting before finally taking a detailed look at her date. With a lot going on it was still hard to miss the elephant in the room.
"What is that on your dick?"
"It's for work!" the pitbull answered with a snort.
Sandra scoffed. "Aren't you an accountant?"
"I dunno honey, I think I'd get my books done there," the pitbull teased as he pressed the heft of his cock against the rat's gawking face. Biscuit was speechless. This was a conversation he'd hoped to have over months of texts spaced at least hours apart. "I just really want to get to our seats. I'm doing it for you."
Sanda cackled and slapped her paw against her hips, lost in the audacity of the statement. "This is for me? You took your dick out of commission and blew a security guard- no offense-
"None taken honey."
"You're sucking dick on my account, that's fine, but I'm going to watch." Leaning against the door the look of satisfaction on her face was now totally unmistakable.
"Fine by me!" the pitbull sneered as he returned his massive dick to Biscuit's mouth. "Besides, won't be too much longer, it's been hours since my last and I want you," the pitbull mooned as he got into the effort of fucking the rat's mouth, letting his hips swing in grand motions, his burly paws traveling wherever they could hold the rat, "I want you to get to enjoying your evening with this lovely lady."
"It's already been one to remember," the bobcat sneered as waited to meet the pitbull's eyes before lifting her paw up her dress.
"Ah, fuck!" the pitbull suddenly found a new gear. "Ah! Open wide rat, I fucking got you!" he promised as the thrusts started to break rhythm. The bulbous head erupted into Biscuit's mouth, who did his best to shove the bruising tool as far back into his throat to spare the mess as possible. He shut his eyes tight and tried to let his whimpers be muffled by the fat dick in his throat as jet after jet brought the whole ordeal closer to a final close.
The fat cock pulled from Biscuit's mouth with a trail of saliva still connecting them until the pitbull curtly stuffed it back into his slacks, the obscene bulge demonstrating his pride as he replaced his uniform to order. He tossed the rat's clothes back to him with a curt order to dress, opening the door and making his leave as the tent of his pants led him like a compass.
Biscuit lost track of the number of ways in which he apologized to Sandra as he dressed, ping-ponging between perfectly reasonable explanations for all the shocking things she'd witnessed tonight. She made no comment at all as the rat steamed through his response, only waiting for the man to finally buckle his belt before silencing him to ask "You still got your wallet? Let's go, we're missing shootaround."
They made it to their seats quickly, Sandra excited to see that the warmups had only just begin, letting her hungry eyes dart from each of the beautiful, purpose-built bodies with clear lust. Biscuit only stared into the middle distance, taking medium-deep breaths as he left each passing second the bobcat's presence in it return him to calm. All things considered, she hadn't bolted, and that could actually have been the best possible outcome of all.
It was as he stared in the blurs that Biscuit caught the figure of a familiar form. Across the arena floor in the 200 level he saw the pitbull as he showed a bored-looking cameraman something on his phone that caused them both to erupt in uproarious laughter. Then, he pointed directly at Biscuit.
The guard walked down the steps, watching Biscuit see him all the way, and make his way onto the court. Sitting on the padded seats in his warmups, #8 greeted the security guard like an old friend. The pitbull, having never put the phone away, now showed him something that made them both crack at their sides in howls of laughter that echoed around through the pre-game music of the arena. Then, he pointed directly at Biscuit.
A smattering of applause broke Biscuit out of his trance, hearing it grow slowly louder as his eyes darted for the cause of the commotion. Sandra elbowed him and pointed him to the jumbotron, where they sat together within the silhouette of a heart. KISS CAM
Biscuit flushed and the crowd cheered and laughed, Sandra laughing too as her eyes bounced between her date squirming beside her and squirming on the big screen. She did him the charity of turning his head to give him a kiss on the cheek, which only had the effect of removing any of the applause in the arena for a sustained chuckle.
Finally working the nerve to see the screen for himself, he admired for a moment the bobcat's kindness, even if it was only a kiss on the cheek that others would laugh at. He saw them together, saw a long future together within the silhouette on the screen, and he saw #8 in his warmups sit in the empty seat next to Sandra. He couldn't turn his head as he watched her squeal and bounce, couldn't shut his eyes when he watched #8 pull her in for lustful, hungry kiss, and couldn't close his ears to the truly deafening laughter that put the chuckle to shame.
The camera lingered for what seemed like hours as the player got up, and with the tumult of it all #8 had to shout loud enough that Biscuit could hear- "WHEATON SUITES ROOM FOUR OH SEVEN"
With another kiss to deafening applause #8 departed, and after a moment more the image finally cut, the raucous cheer quickly replaced by a loud murmur resembling something like a high school cafeteria.
Sandra was sharing her excitement and a high five with a fan behind her when Biscuit tugged at her dress to demand her attention. "Did you hear what he told you?"
Sandra was caught off guard by the question, pondering it for a moment before letting her face crack and beginning a horrified apology to her date which Biscuit promptly cut off."
"He yelled it right in your ear, you didn't hear him?"
"I... I was too nervous! What did he say? Was it-" the look of hope in her eyes was almost too much to bare. "Was it about me?!"
Before he could break the tension, Biscuit was interrupted by a text. He could have more easily ignored it if it weren't from his boss: [watchng espn a tthe bar guess whos famous lolllllllllll;;]
Biscuit put the phone away. He turned to Sandra and took a deep breath.
"I don't know what he told you, but I'm just so glad after everything you're still sitting here with me. After the game, win or lose, you and I are going to the Wheaton Suites to celebrate and it's all on me."