FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Not every eleven-year-old guy had a movie star for a friend.

Okay, that was a bit of a stretch, but Daryl was going to be. Everyone knew it. With his parents routinely getting roles and his unique blue fur with darker spots, the Great Dane was destined for fame - I would be there beside him. He needed me - I could be his eyes and ears. And more importantly, his hands.

Because Daryl was a feral Great Dane, like his entire family. In third grade, when I'd found out just who his parents were, I'd been star-struck. His mom was in the movies, although usually movies for ferals. Sorry, four-leggers. Feral was considered a slur. While two and four legs rarely mixed at our schools, I'd sought Daryl out. I helped him carry his books, I got him lunch, I scratched his back - whatever it took to get in his good graces, and now I could count myself as his friend.

Daryl walked quickly down the hall and I had to bustle to keep up. I could tell he was trying to get distance from his handler, Nathan. The college student was paid by his family to help Daryl in school, but I had always bristled since he showed up. I was already doing all that. It's not my fault I couldn't help Daryl during class.

"Jared," he beamed confidently at me. "I totally just fucked a girl in the bathroom. For real."

I dropped my jaw. We were eleven, and he was already getting some? I knew hitching my ride to Daryl was going to pay off. If I only got the tail end of his groupies, that'd still be a ton of tail. "Holy shit, Daryl. Who??"

He shrugged as if it was nothing. "Can't say. I didn't tie or anything, but we did everything else." He was practically prancing, and I could imagine why. I'd never even kissed a girl.

"Come on, you gotta say."

He shook his head, grinning up at me.

At lunch, I pulled Ethan aside. He was my best friend from even before Daryl, and though he hung out with the Great Dane now, too, he didn't seem to get why. The two-legged Bluetick Coonhound wanted to play video games, and that wasn't Daryl's forte. Maybe now he'd finally understand.

"He fucked a girl. At school," I explained.

Daryl was eating on the feral side of the lunchroom, so we had time to debate what had happened. Ethan said "Do you think she followed him in? Or did he follow her in? It had to be Missy - that slut is always looking over at him."

Missy was a Dalmatian like me, only she was a feral. I said, "He didn't say whether she was a four-legger or not. What he got up in, like Kiley? Got, do you think he'd, um...share?"

Ethan blinked. "Is that a thing??" The poor kid had never watched Entourage, apparently. This was the very first time he realized that being friends with a famous actor might have benefits outside of some pretty balling birthday parties.

"Kiley's got a lot of friends," I explained with a knowing glance. "And maybe Missy does too?"

The Coonhound blinked. "Gross - you'd do it to a four-legger?"

I shrugged. "A spade's a spade, dude," using a saying that had a very different meaning in this context.

Ethan rolled his eyes, grabbing his phone from his bag and tapping away. "I gotta tell Kev and the guys."

By the end of the day, the entire school was talking about it, with Daryl walking proudly and winking at everyone as he played dumb. Missy was everyone's guess, and she couldn't walk three steps without everyone looking at her and wondering if she were carrying a Great Dane-sized creampie under her tail. She looked miserable and was blushing constantly, which was basically proof.

That night, I thought about Missy. It was the first time I'd really thought about ferals myself, but she was a Dalmatian, and pretty enough. I just wish she had boobs! Still, picturing her whimpering underneath the huge Dane was getting me going unlike anything I'd jacked off to before. The other fantasies were just fantasies - this really happened. Would Daryl let me have sloppy seconds? Would I bang her doggy-style, or put her on her back?

For the first time in my life, I managed to jack off twice in one night.

I definitely was starting to get annoyed that Daryl wouldn't tell me more about what happened. I really wanted to fill in the gaps in my fantasy, but the damned dog was really tight-lipped about it. I even accused him of lying about it, but he just gave me a knowing, patronizing look. If he was lying, he was a damn good actor.

Missy, at least, had the common sense to deny it, but everyone knew it was her. Honestly, knowing she was a slut had done wonders for her profile at the school. Suddenly lots of boys were interested in her, including some two-leggers. Maybe that was why she'd fucked Daryl in the first place!

I was still grumbling, idly tossing a tackleball to Daryl. He was a natural in size for the feral-focused sport. If he weren't already destined to be a big time actor, it wouldn't surprise me if he could become a million-dollar tackleballer. And his backyard had plenty of room to run around, as long as I didn't hit any of the finely trimmed topiary.

Nathan wasn't the only handservant employed at their eight-bedroom townhouse. They had a chef, and gardeners, and each parent had their own Nathan. Even Dalia, their youngest, had a Poodle caretaker named Gwen. But I was always on standby to be helpful, grabbing things, carrying things, cleaning things. I knew that I always had to be useful if I wanted to keep my position in the family.

Daryl never talked about his baby sister. Understandable, since they were like...8 years apart. After having Daryl, his mom had been too busy in the movies for another pup, but when nature called...I was only eight myself when Mrs. Fields got pregnant with Dalia, but even that young I couldn't help but appreciate the pure blue bombshell, staying at home to avoid the paparazzi. But I got to watch her belly swell and her - ahem - teats swell out. If only I'd known then what I know now, I might have paid closer attention...snapped a few pictures for my phone...

Dalia, though was still just a baby. Sure, like all ferals, she grew up fast, and was almost as tall as her mother. She was blue like her mom, except for her white face and chest like her dad. Daryl looked pretty similar, except he had darker grey splotches over his blue fur that looked pretty good. Still, the girl was a three-year-old and there wasn't much to Dalia except a noisy mouth to feed.

Gwen was out sick, and that meant someone else was pulling double duty, and today that meant Nathan. Daryl's manservant was running back and forth, making sure to get Daryl a soda, prepare his homework and make sure that Dalia was taken care of. He had to watch carefully for whenever the oversized toddler needed to go to the bathroom - she still wore a diaper, but it was only in case of emergencies. And get her things she wanted, but not too much or too often. Because Dalia wanted peanut butter candies, and she wanted them all the time.

I could tell he was feeling overwhelmed, while I casually tossed the tackleball back and forth with Daryl.

Finally, Nathan was panting and said, "Apologies, sir." I liked it when the twenty-two year old Blue Heeler called me sir. "But Dalia needs a dose of antibiotics for her sinus infection," he said, glancing down at his expanded list of responsibilities while Gwen was out. "And Daryl would like me to make him a quesadilla. Could you please handle her pill?"

I could tell he was desperate, and normally I would say no. I wanted to appear helpful to the Great Danes, not to Nathan. But when Daryl said, "Nah, Jared, stay here and throw to me," I got impulsive. I didn't want to throw to the guy who wouldn't even admit he fucked Missy, much less any of the deets. So I turned to Nathan, put down the ball, and said, "Sure, I'll do it."

I'd done plenty for Dalia before, usually at the request of Mr. or Mrs. Fields. They loved me. I was like a free pair of hands. They never said no when Daryl asked me to come over. And part of why was that I was always so helpful, never expecting anything in return. Of course, I knew that getting in good with them now would pay off in spades (literally) down the line.

"Dalia?" I asked, cruising her normal haunts. "Time for your medicine..." I held the pills in one hand, and the jar of peanut butter in the other. Gwen had written that the three-year-old was supposed to swallow the pills whole and that peanut butter worked because she gulped instead of chewing. "Where are you?"

"Ja-wed! Ja-wed!" she barked excitedly when she saw me. She'd been watching Doberah the Explorer, and hadn't heard me calling. She jumped and I had to back away quickly or get two vicious paws to the face.

"You're really a big girl now, Dalia," I laughed. She really was like a smaller version of her mom now, an 80 pound three-year-old. Give her a year and she'd be full grown - 120 or more pounds of toddler fury.

Dalia said "Play!?"

I shook my head. "It's time for your medicine."

Her droopy face curled up in disgust. "Yucky! No," she said, simply.

I reached down to turn off the television. "No TV until you take your pill."

"Not uh!"

"Come on, don't you want to feel better?" I explained, scratching the back of my head. This was harder than I remembered. The little girl was starting to get a bit headstrong.

She was clearly processing a major thought. Finally, she perked up her floppy ears, and said, "Baf time? Gif me a baf."

"A bath?" I asked. Looking down at Gwen's list, I saw that bath time was on it. "But I have to give you your pill."

She nodded, but said, "Baf. Then yucky piw."

Kids were supposed to hate baths, but Dalia loved them. I got it now - she was making a deal. Sighing, I decided that if peanut butter wasn't going to convince her, I'd better take her up on her offer. "Bath first, then pill," I agreed.

Little did I realize what I'd really be getting out of our deal...