FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

This picnic table probably hadn't been here when this place had been actual offices. Will's keen investigative instincts told him that the taco truck people had brought it and set it up. An operating office park wouldn't have a plastic table with a sun-faded picnic umbrella straddling the "--SERVE- FOR MAN-G--E-T" parking spaces.

But it wasn't like he was a cop. None of his business whether this was authorized.

The pup arrived at twelve thirty-one, which Will decided not to mention. Not yet, anyway. It might turn out that he wanted rigid, inflexible, unrealistic rules, wanted to be punished for even the tiniest failing, but that wasn't the kind of thing you assumed about a man. Mechanic's jumpsuit with a pair of gloves in his back left pocket and an oil-stained rag in the right. It was dark green, the oil was black. Was that intentional? Probably not, but Will put it in the mental notebook just in case.

This was all beginning to line up.

"What'd you get, there?" He asked as Leo took a seat as far from the truck as possible.

"Oh, uh, Pupusas with Carne Asada, sir. Dad nagged them into putting it on the menu."

Interesting, that went in the notebook too.

"What about you, sir?"

"Frybread taco."

"I see, sir."

Will stared him down for a couple moments. "Interesting."

"...sir?"

"You didn't say anything about me getting frybread."

"I, uh," the Pup rubbed the back of his neck, "I had a friend growing up, sir, she was Meseta. She wouldn't have let me get away with saying something about, uh, well, you know, just cause you're Native, uh, ordering..."

"You said," best move on before the pup died of embarrassment, "you 'had' a friend? Not 'have?'"

"I haven't really heard from her in..." Leo's paw tapped the table while he did the mental math, "shit, seven years."

"You were close?" Will raised an eyebrow. He'd sounded a little hurt at the realization.

"It's just..." Leo sighed, "When I was real little, before I spoke English, she was the only person who'd spend any time with me. Introduced me to the rest of the gang. To Chase." He laughed bitterly. "When we were in high school, before Mama knew I was gay, she kinda tried to matchmake us."

Will folded his hands on the table. "So. Let's see if I've got this all right, Leo Alvarez: you're Salvadoran, you're an immigrant, your father owns or owned this place, but now you're the only one who actually lives here--I'm assuming in that second story? You're out to your parents but they're not as supportive as they should be. And your breakup with 'Chase,' whoever that was, went bad enough that all your mutual friends ended up on his side over it."

All the expression drained out of the rest of Leo's face and into his eyes. "Wha-?! How did you-?"

"The guy at the truck didn't bother taking your order, so you're a regular. Pupusas are Salvadoran, you said your dad got them onto the menu, so he's big enough, in whatever sense, to make 'em listen. Both your work and home address are 'Alvarez Auto' likely named after your dad, so that's also your last name, which is why the food truck wants to stay on his good side. But! You're coming here for your authentic national lunch, and not getting it from the Mama who cared enough to try to set you up, wrong gender notwithstanding, so she's not upstairs in the kitchen. This girl's smart and gives a shit, because she wasn't gonna tolerate microaggressions, even unconscious ones, but you haven't even been reminded of her in years, which means not only is she not talking to you anymore, nobody else who knew her is either. Your parents are probably pretty conservative--Latino immigrants to the US, the right generation to have a pup your age, usually got issues with communists or what they think are communists--but you're still working here, so they didn't disown you or anything. But you're still HERE and not with THEM." Will allowed himself a satisfied smile at the way Leo's eyes got wider and wider as he explained. "The only question I still have is: how much do you know about hanky code?"

Leo clenched his eyes shut, trying to regain his balance on the first solid ground he'd heard so far. "You mean like... when a guy wears a yellow bandana and that means he's into, uh... you know...?"

"Yeah." Will chuckled. "Cause wearing 'em on the right side means 'submissive' and a dark green and black means 'slavery' kink, so I'm wondering if that," his eyes went to Leo's back pocket, "was on purpose."

Leo twisted around to look for himself, then swallowed hard. "I didn't know what those colors meant, Sir."

"But I don't hear you denying it," Will very calmly pressed his advantage. "I just hear you still calling me 'Sir.' Even after I brought up the words 'slavery kink.'"

For a second the only sound was the highway a couple blocks away.

"I'm gonna have to get back to work soon, Sir."

"That's still not a no."

"I..." Leo fought for words. He should say no. Nobody would want... THAT, would they? Why hadn't he already said no? Why didn't he want to say no? "I... don't know."

"That's perfectly fair." Will got to his feet. "You got my number, you text me again tomorrow. In the meantime, think about it. Put in some thought on what you want. Till tomorrow, pup."

Leo stayed in his seat, watched him go, until his truck was out of sight.

***

Will had been brooding over his notebook for a good hour by the time Sam got home. The sunset that flooded the cabin living room had now shrunk to an outline of the mountaintops. But that's what table lamps were for.

"Hey," Will got to his feet, stretched his back, "Shoot went long?"

"Dora took everyone to dinner after."

"Nice. How was it, though?"

"Eh, ok."

"Get anything spicy?"

"...why, you worried about my digestion?"

"Not for dinner! I mean spicy pictures!"

"You're gonna have to subscribe to the SuperFans to see."

"Or just look over your shoulder when you forget to log out."

Sam pulled off his shirt, flopped wearily onto the couch, where it was easy for Will to slide over, lay the cougar's head on his lap, and stroke his ears. "Photographer wasn't as good as Murdoch."

"Well, save it to tell him, god knows that boy's ego could use all the help it can get." Will resisted the temptation to pull off his own clothes and climb astride the cougar. "What do you think of this?" Instead he passed him his notebook:

More dirty than he thinks he is. He'll protest that he can't do it the entire time he's doing it. Wants it but thinks he shouldn't? Hasn't had chances to explore? More info needed.

Clearly horny, pent up. By own account hasn't had partner or hookup in years.

Isolated. Depends on family (conservative) for housing, livelihood. Devoted family/friends, reluctant to believe anything negative about people from childhood. Could use a better class of friends/family. Attaches in terms of people needing him, what he can do for people. Mostly wants someone to want him. Exploited? Look into financial records -- Alvarez Auto.

Really good cocksucker. Impressed!

LONELY

Trust automatic. Defaults to doing/believing what he's told if he doesn't know what's going on.

Find out more about the breakup!

"You know, if you wanted to mix business and pleasure," Sam began, "you oughta consider changing jobs. I can always see if there's an opening...?"

"I told you, it's not a case," Will accepted the notebook back, and at this point there really was no point to still resisting those 'lose the clothes and climb on top of the boyfriend' urges, was there? "More a personal project."

"Seems like the kinda project," Sam shifted, pulled Will to his chest, began exploring the coyote's body with a free hand, not that any of it was unknown territory, "you could use my help on."

"I expect I will, sooner or later." Will's muzzle was less than an inch from Sam's.

There didn't end up being much more discussion that evening.

***

Leo lay on the edge of his bed. Knees over the side, feet on the floor. Naked. Panting. Deeply worried. And hornier than he could ever remember being.

At first, giving the internet the words 'slave fetish gay' and seeing what it spat back at him had just been curiosity. Will had talked like this was, you know, A Thing, like any other kink, had thought there'd been at least a possibility Leo was trying to say he was interested in it. He hadn't tried to shut that possibility down, either, instead had told Leo to 'put some thought' into it. So it only made sense to find out what it was, yeah?

Well he'd found out a whole lot.

Nearly every video presented some new degradation, some new abasement, that hadn't yet occurred to him. Which Will could--theoretically--put him through: public nudity, bondage, caging, shaving, sounding, fisting, dangling from piercings, that thing with the face mask he couldn't bring himself to even describe in his thoughts. Doing any of this was just... impossible.

But imagining refusal meant imagining himself in the place of the humiliated slave. And that meant imagining Will as the master, ordering him to do it.

And every time he imagined Will telling him he had no choice, he was going to do as he'd been told no matter how unthinkable, Leo got harder.

Blowing a stranger in a bar was unthinkable, too. But he'd done that, the moment Will had given the order.

He watched, enraptured, jaw slack and mouth hanging, as the snow leopard in the chest harness guided a queue of rough, eager men to the polar bear, blindfolded, hands bound behind his back, cock caged, whose muzzle meekly accepted each in turn.

Eventually, inevitably, it became too much. He used up all ability to resist and flopped back on his bed, panting furiously, masturbating desperately, imagining himself sinking to his knees or bowing his head or bending over and lifting his tail in submissive obedience to the big coyote. The third time he worked himself toward orgasm he caught himself whispering "yes master" over and over, under his breath, as he came.

There was no longer enough left in his balls to spray over his body, now it just dribbled from his cock and down the sides of his paw, like candle wax.

In the cold sobriety of post-orgasm he told himself: think straight, yeah? Was Will actually gonna expect him to do any of this shit? Of fucking course not! He was watching internet porn! It had about as much to do with reality as it did with the Encyclopedia Albionai! When Leo told him tomorrow how much he wanted to try, he'd be fine!

Oh shit. He'd just thought 'when.' 'If!' He meant 'if!'

He could feel curiosity teasing at him again, trying to drag him back to the next video, and the next, and the next, but a question had surfaced he needed to answer first. Was this all just a measure of how pathetically, helplessly lonely he was? Was he reaching for something inedible just out of starvation?

So he tried imagining Chase.

He couldn't do it.

Chase in the role of any of these 'masters,' real or fantasy, resemblance to actual persons however purely coincidental, was implausible to the point of farce. He couldn't get far enough into the fantasy that the imaginary Chase actually gave an order. It was just too ridiculous. Whatever dark appetite was driving him on into this, it wasn't that one. That was something.

Exhaustion hovered somewhere in the dark corners of the ceiling, but he still had the stamina for one more...

It was called 'Collaring ceremony.' Compared to all the other videos it was pretty tame. A naked man, a hyena, on his knees, eager. Another man, a boar, older, imperious, in leather vest, gloves, boots, and crotchless leather chaps. He held out a strip of leather, took the hyena by the chin and forced him to look at it, not that force was needed.

"You accept that my collar means you are a slave," smirked the boar.

"I do, master." answered the hyena.

"You accept that I am your master," the recitation continued.

"I do, master."

"You understand that this remains around your neck until I remove it," Leo's imagination was already replacing the boar with Will, "possibly forever."

"I do, master," said both the hyena and the imaginary Leo.

"You freely choose to hand over your freedom, your will, and yourself to me, and to become my property?" Leo imagined Will asking him.

"I accept your collar, master," answered Leo.

The boar went down on one knee, fastened the collar around the hyena's neck, and kissed him roughly. As he got to his feet there was a dull click. He'd attached a leash to the collar, while the camera had been obscured. A rough yank on it pulled the hyena face-first onto the boar's erection, which he'd clearly been excitedly expecting: he was already sucking the moment his lips touched skin.

Leo could feel his body still trying to come, even empty of every last drop.

He shut off his computer, and lay back on the bed. It was after midnight, he was still ragingly erect yet utterly spent, and he was shaken to his core in a way as amazing as it was frightening. He wanted to be shaken more, again, and even deeper.

How was he supposed to sleep after that?

Leo dozed off before he could finish wondering.