FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Penny's Presentation

First period English class is the epitome of high school. No matter how you slice it, everybody has the same lethargic image in their minds: a slightly frigid, cyan-lit room of twenty-something wildly uninterested students listening to a monotone teacher rambling his hot takes on some boring old book that nobody reads anymore in for an hour and a half. The complementary bricked white walls are decked out with motivational posters, but the only two places anybody ever looked are the window and the door. Suffice to say, nothing about today came as a surprise.

Not even the permanently naked eighteen-year-old fennec fox in the center of the room was enough to shock them awake. To be fair, on month four, it was nothing they hadn't seen before. Still, she missed the constant attention. Her hand supported her weary head as her glazed eyes glanced at the clock above the front door, wishing she had a spell to speed up time.

"...And that is the full, undisclosed life of Nathaniel Hawthorne," Mr. Abama concluded. "Are there any questions?"

The classroom replied with a resounding nothing.

Ugh, it's like he just crawled out from the Stone Age, Penny thought as she rolled her eyes. Can we get to the good part yet? My tits are freezing.

"All right, and with that, we will move onto your essay presentations," Mr. Abama stated, twisting the yardstick in his hand. "Why don't we start with you, Ms. Fenmore?"

"Sure thing!" she chimed in, tapping her stack of five papers on the desk. This had been on her mind all week. Of all her fruitless attempts, she was sure that this was the one; the very best essay she's ever written. A confident smile spread clean across her face, while her legs shook as she ascended from her seat, thinking of that standing ovation she was sure to receive.

"Why'd you have to call her Ms. Fenmore?" yelled a tabby cat from the back of the room. "Can't you just call her by her name?"

"Shut up, Clayton!" Penny snapped back at him. Nobody likes Clayton.

Her hips swayed as she strolled to the front of the room, her tail flickering randomly in anticipation. There was no podium or seat to take, so she assumed a firm position at the front of the classroom, grinning down the herd with her fastened essay in both hands. A cleanse of the throat, a deep inhale, and a spark of integrity all washed her away from her anxiety.

"The Truth Behind the Ending of Moby Dick!" she announced. "By Penny Fenmore!"

"Puss-aayyyy!" shouted the athletic lynx with his feet up on the desk towards the far wall of the classroom, causing everybody to burst out laughing. The grip on her papers became a clutch as her whole body reddened under her cream-colored fur. All at once, she remembered why she hated presenting so much: the expectations. Oh, the dreadful expectations! At least if she were in the hallways, she could wait them out in a bathroom, or just ignore them and be on her way. But as if it wasn't bad enough that she was naked in public; now, it's like she owed them something.

"That's very rude, Justin," the teacher scolded as the commotion died down, then turned to her. "Do continue."

She cleared her throat again, licking her lips. The show must go on!

_ _ "Uh...s-so, have you ever wondered why...the ending of Moby Dick is...so unsatisfying?" she recited, her body trembling as it glowed brighter. "It's...b-brutal undertones would lead you...to believe...it wouldn't end the way that it did!"

Gulping, she fully realized that wasn't the real line. There were plenty of moments like that, though it was clear the students weren't hearing a word. Their lustful silence had fused into her brain, as she could hardly read without thinking of the hardness of her nipples, or how red and tight her pussy must look. No sentence she read ended without a sharp hiss or a rough exhale.

Don't think about the harpoon...don't think about the harpoon..., the humiliated girl thought, feeling herself become slick down below. The presentation wasn't even a quarter of the way done, and she already knew that she wouldn't make it. The symphony of excited murmurs and note passing caused a shuffle too great to be interrupted by even the world's greatest essay. The nerve of them! In any other situation, she would've pouted, but right now, there was something she couldn't ignore.

"...and the irony behind this scene is...um..." Penny froze, feeling the tingles in her pelvis turn into waves through her bloodstream. "Did somebody turn on the heater?"

There was complete silence for about five full seconds.

"No," her English teacher stated, left eyebrow raised. "The heating is broken in this room."

"Oh, that's nonsense!" she swatted the air at him, beaming. "I'm burnin' up over here!"

He stared. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Y-yeah!" Penny yelped as her insides densified. "Never felt better! It, um...must be the sun!"

Mr. Abama held his look. "Sweetie, the sun is barely up."

"Uh...well...um..." Penny stammered for words as she stared back at all the eyes, knowing all too well what was happening to her, tantalized by her tender skin and enflamed vagina. "It's fine, I just...ah! Aaah!"

Her squeal was loud enough to hear through the hallway as she came tremendously, sending hot liquid flowing down her the insides of her legs, much to the fascination of her crowd. Many of them leaned forward to get a better look at her curled up, knock-kneed posture. And when she finally opened her eyes, she felt all the embarrassment flood back.

"Ms. Fenmore?" The teacher asked, getting a gasp from her lips. "Are you going to finish presenting?"

Penny stared, damp between her thighs, mouth slightly agape. Then she nodded, straightening herself up and flipping the page she was on to the back.

"Y-yes," she nodded. "The...the second point I'd like to make is..."