FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A waiter wearing only a black tie and holding a circular silver tray full of tall crystal glasses filled with light golden sparkling wine is walking around. He spots a couple just arriving at the main hall. He politely pauses his stride near them, and without a word, two hands grab a wine glass each by its stem. The waiter, a brown otter, walks away to serve the next batch of patrons nearby.

Alfred, a white llama wearing a refined bow tie is standing next to his escort, Madeleine, a tall gazelle wearing a red sheath dress. He hands over one of the glasses to her.

They make their way together through the busy hall, filled with chatter from other patrons. Everyone is equally glamorous in their presentation and class, minding their own conversations.

A live band plays upbeat songs, filling the vast lofty ceilings with joy. Dimmed lights and neon accents add to the feeling of a perfect upscale nightlife environment.

Albert and Madeleine are at the Så Ymse, a coveted venue in the city and a distinctive meeting point for the wealthy to spend their evenings socializing, networking, and drinking. There is always a line to get in, but the most notable can cut the line.

Money talks.

A regular patron can easily spend hours at the venue, dropping hundreds of dollars in one night. Albert and Madeleine, however, are not there to mingle with the upper class and talk politics over martinis.

The couple calmly walks past the crowd across the hall, climbing a wide marble staircase that leads to the mezzanine above. Near the landing, a red curtain covers another smaller hall, away from the noisy party. They walk through the curtains, making the music behind them fade away.

Standing in front of them, a muscular grey bulldog wearing a black tie blocked the way to an ornamented elevator door:

"Good evening, sir, madam. Are you heading to the terrace?" The bulldog asks, surprisingly polite by his rugged appearance.

"Ah, yes, please," says Albert, giving the dog a slate business card featuring a strange logo embossed with gold and a barcode underneath.

The dog pauses for a second and scans it with a card reader. The machine chirps a positive tone, making him nod; the llama flicks his ears in excitement.

The dog stashes the card away, not returning it to the llama, which seems to be expected, then turns around to open the elevator door. He pulls a key out of the pocket and unlocks something in the elevator console.

"Welcome again, sir and madam; I hope you enjoy your evening. Please, step in."

Without a word, the couple gets into the elevator and presses the Terrace button, smiling at each other. The elevator closes, but instead of going up, it starts moving down with a gentle rumble. No buttons are showing any floors below, the couple seems to expect that as well.

As the elevator finishes its descent, the door opens with a ding, revealing an entirely different club behind it.

"Ah! Albert! We are so glad to have you today at Angel's Dive," a jaguar, wearing nothing but his white bow tie greets them. "May I take you and your mistress to your table?"

"Thank you, Benjala, lead the way," nodded Albert

The three walk across the dimmed room to the front, with various circular tables and candle lights all around the place, each with an individual party, sometimes loners, sometimes as many as five.

There are no windows, but it is spacious enough to be inviting. The tables were placed in three rings, one inside the other, with each inner circle at a slightly lower level, like a boxing ring arena but way cozier and more private.

Sitting at the centre of those tables is a stage with nothing but a big glass cylindrical tank filled with water that goes from floor to ceiling, about two metres high. Someone was inside it.

"Oh, I hope we have not missed it!" Exclaimed Madeleine as she took her seat at one of the front tables.

"No, madam, you are perfectly on time. Please make yourself comfortable."

Other patrons are sitting at the other tables, and some others arrive in shy numbers from the elevator they came in. Meanwhile, an African dog inside the water tank is struggling in distress.

The water tank was tight-filled, the hatch above had no air pockets, and the dog was submerged with nothing but his collar. He was holding his breath. The tank was well lit with bright lights shining with such crispness one could see every detail in the tank. As the African dog moves around in the tank, small silver-coloured bubbles glide about as he moves his body, looking for a way out.

He was already at his limit, having been there for a while when Albert and Madeleine got in. As the dog in the tank reaches his limit, holding his throat with all his wit, forcing the hatch above at no avail, he finally stops moving. Seconds later, he slowly starts to sink to the bottom of the tank as a small stream of bubbles escapes his nostrils, hands still locked around his neck. The lights in the tank dim, hiding him in the shadows. No one could see him anymore in the pitch-black water tank.

A group of alligators next to the couple starts chatting with excitement with each other, approving of what they just saw. The chatter in the club room grows slightly as the patrons start commenting on the show they just watched.

Soft piano music resumed playing, and a few waiters began to go around to replace empty glasses with new ones. The tank slowly got lit again, not as intensely, but this time it was empty. And it would remain empty for a little longer. They are in intermission.

"Sad, we missed the beginning of the show, but judging by the end, I think he did put up a good fight, just not the super exciting one I was looking for," said Albert.

"We just got here honey, besides, they always put the less experienced actors at the beginning," replies the gazelle.

"You are right, Maddy, we are just getting in the mood, I just hope the big attraction they promised today will happen."

"It will!" A new voice broke the conversation.

A dark ferret escorted by two rottweilers bodyguards just stop at their table:

"Today we will have an exceptional actor, difficult to acquire, but we are sure it will be one of the best shows you had watched here to date!"

"Emil, I apologize for disrespecting your fine actors. I've been moody these days. Please ignore my rumblings," Albert replied at once at the sight of Emil.

"I understand, so stay cozy my friend, I'm sure our main attraction today will lift you out of this mood by the end of the night! Have a drink on the house, will you?"

Emil signalled with his hand to Benjala from across the room. He acknowledged at once and made his way to the bar.

"I have to tend to some business, enjoy your evening Albert, madam."

Easy to say that Emil was an affluent ferret, but how important? Emil Tamilder is a wealthy business ferret who built his fortune with real estate and investments. His companies own the majority of shares in many enterprises in almost every sector. He also owns Så Ymse, and his little private club downstairs named Angel's Dive.

Angel's Dive is a small circle of people who share a fetish with water, more specifically, being trapped underwater believing they are going to drown. Finding good actors who can convincingly act in this peril is arduous, but that is the reason this club is so special.

Patrons would be willing to pay good money if that allows them to see their most desired fetish being played in front of their eyes. And Emil apparently has a knack for finding actors willing to perform such tasks.

* * *

Emil walks past the bar, and through an almost hidden door with more bodyguards stationed behind, making way for their boss to go through.

He then climbs a set of stairs leading to the floor above Angel's Dive. Where more bodyguards and other staff walked around in a rush to keep up with the club schedule. On their left, a doorway led to the changeroom, where the actors are preparing for their presentation.

"Where is Mike?" Emil shouted to the room full of actors, a single African dog popped his head from behind a muscular wolf.

"I'm here, sir," reluctantly replied

"You are new to this, I understand, but you gotta work this act more! You must pass the anxiety and fear of drowning there, not just holding your breath and huffing out some bubbles, or else I just need to hire a puffer fish!" A few giggles echoed in the room, Emil continued: "The lot of you! Teach the kid how it's done, will you?"

The angry ferret walked away towards his underground office across the staff room, closing the door behind him. His two bodyguards stayed outside guarding the door.

"Stupid actors," he spoke to himself: "it takes ages to get a single actor to do a convincing act. I'm glad to have triumph cards on my sleeve every now and then. Tonight though, they are going to lose their minds!"

His phone rings:

"Yes? He's here?" A pause, "Excellent, I'm coming there."

Emil spins his swiving chair happily, letting some giggles out. Tonight is going to be a good night, and he is going to meet the person who is going to make this happen. He swings the door open, startling the bodyguards. The ferret quickly walks towards a heavy iron door at the end of the staff room, with his bodyguards catching up with him.

Behind those doors was a windowless room, with a single fluorescent light illuminating the whole place. The floor was pure concrete, all wet from water, with another heavy iron door on the opposite side. Right in the middle, a hatch on the floor.

As the door closed behind them, all sound from the staff room cut off completely. They were in complete silence. Emil built those doors soundproof since the hatch leads to the water tank on the floor below, where all patrons are watching.

Emil and his bodyguards walked across the empty room towards the other iron door. His bodyguard knock on it, and a peep window in the middle of the door opens, revealing a set of eyes looking for who knocked.

"Open the door," commanded Emil.

* * *

Three days earlier.

* * *

Fox Lindberg is on his knees, hidden by the bushes and the cloudy night on the outskirts of River Ridge, trying to cut a heavy padlock with bolt cutters. The device locks access to the storm sewer system. Unlike the rest of the system, this access point is the only one that gives passage to a portion of galleries, isolated from the rest of the city.

This section of the storm sewers covers most of the upscale and secluded residential mansions and estates in River Ridge. If his intuition is correct, this will lead him right into Emil Tamilder's home, the city most fortified and secluded mansion.

Fox was determined to find proof of Emil's wrongdoing

Despite Ralph, his commanding officer in the K-9 Unit, clearly saying not to meddle with Emil. Ralph needed solid proof of any crime before going against the most influential ferret in the city.

Emil's private life is well protected and out of public eyes. But Fox did not believe Emil's wealth comes only from real estate and good luck in the stock market, but rather, from said private life. Tonight, he will get proof, if anything at all, that links Emil's activities with the local mafia, which controls most of the gangs and drug dealers in the city.

"Finally!" said Fox, after the heavy rusty padlock gives up with a loud snap. He tosses the cutter to the side and pulls the grate open, making the hinges complain loudly.

Fitted with an overhead flashlight, Fox checks the city blueprints once more to find his way into Emil's property. With any luck, there is a storm drain large enough for him to pass through next to a gazebo inside the property's backyard, giving him enough coverage from the guards inside. Fox has equipped himself with all this intel thanks to the little drone footage he secretly collected over the weeks.

Fox put on his backpack, adjusted his K-9 vest and started crawling into the sewer. "Ugh, it's damp in here, even though there was no rain for days."

He checks his clock, it is 11 PM, and he has plenty of time to go in, investigate Emil's mansion, and go back covered by the darkness of night. <<I hope I can find anything I can use to incriminate him, Ralph will be furious, but a piece of breakthrough evidence to finally put Emil in jail will bring our Unit a well-deserved commendation,>> he ponders as he crawls the narrow cement tunnels.

Left, right, another right, go ahead 100m. Fox memorized the instructions and kept muttering them while going through the tunnels. It was dark and the air stale, but luckily the smell was just of old leaves and rotten grass.

After a few minutes, Fox finally saw a faint natural light illuminating the tunnel ahead. <<A storm drain, judging by the size, must be the one I was looking for.>>

He turns off his flashlight to let his eyes get used to the dark again. From now on, he must not draw any attention. Not a peep or light.

He flips on his back and gently pushes the grate above with his legs, it took a couple attempts, but the grate finally moved without making a sound. It was dark outside, only crickets breaking the silence.

Fox pops his head out of the hole and inspects his surroundings. "Bingo! Hello Mr. Gazebo! You are who I was expecting to find!" He muttered with a grin. Then dragged himself out of the sewer, always checking his surroundings for guards.

The tall trimmed bushes in the garden gave him enough concealment to get out and put the grate back in place, just in case someone passes by while he is inside. Inspecting further, he could see the mansion right ahead.

Judging by the lights, not many people and animals are inside, a hint that Emil must be out today. Regardless, he should be wary of guards patrolling the grounds.

Fox then crawls on his fours, using any feature of the luxurious garden to stay out of sight. He halts behind a large planter a few meters from the mansion when a lone guard wearing a black tactical vest passes in front of him, not noticing Fox's presence. <<That was a close call!>>

The guard walks away, bored from his rounds and with no action whatsoever.

Moments later, Fox spots a service door opening ahead. A hedgehog wearing a white apron drags a few trash bags and tosses them into a large dumpster. He then opens the door again to turn off the interior lights, turns around, lights a cigarette and walks away, tired of his shift.

"Hello, my way in! The door is not locked," he muttered again, moving steadily towards the door. Fox checks the handle, and it opens, revealing a dark industrial kitchen inside.

Carefully, he makes his way through the kitchen, with no staff in sight. Equipped with extra confidence, he inhaled more air, making his chest proud and feeling powerful.

<<Kitchen's empty, staff might be out now. I doubt there would be too many guards inside the building. Emil will certainly enjoy some privacy, and the exterior is already well covered.>> He spots the kitchen exit, leading to an open space inside the mansion.

<<No, luxurious mansions like that must have separate paths for employees. Wealthy individuals don't like to mix with the rabble. There must be a service exit where staff can reach other parts of the mansion without being seen.>> He searches his surroundings and finds a hallway leading into the house, looking less impressive.

As he reaches the hallway, Fox spots a stairway going up. His assumption is right, this will lead to the private rooms without exposing himself. He then makes his way up. <<I need to find his study, If I'm right, he might have notes or even a contacts book.>>

Up to this point, all is going well. Fox didn't cross a single soul, making him wonder if this is too easy. "Emil must have got sloppy with his indoor security; perhaps those places crawling with guards might be just things of the movies." Fox chuckles.

He gained access to a large hallway upstairs. Walls made of ornamented wood, green carpet, and paintings of other ferrets hanging on the walls. Fox checks every door he crosses, cracking opening just a bit. The floor features several bedrooms and bathrooms, making the exploration hard.

Finally, at the end of the hall, a wooden door is ajar with all lights off on the inside. Fox peeks and sees a large bedroom illuminated only by faint lights from outside. <<Drapes are open, nobody is sleeping here, and judging by the difference in size, this must be the main room, Emil's room.>> He makes his way into the room, closing the door behind him.

Fox takes a moment to observe his surroundings. Aside from a king-size bed, wardrobes and a desk, he spots a sliding wooden door leading to a different room. "Bingo! The study!" He mutters happily and eagerly advances towards it.

Confident nobody could be inside, he enters the room as if he owns the place, keeping the lights off. The room is filled with books and an old Secretary's desk made of mahogany wood. Fox pulls the swiving chair away and inspects the desk closely. Lucky for him, Emil was once again sloppy, and no locked drawers stood between him and Emil's little secrets.

"Ugh, there are dozens of drawers here. This will take a while." He sighs and starts digging into it.

About an hour after, Fox let a loud yelp: "Aha! Would you look at that! A ledger book! And it has a ridiculous amount of transactions from such weird places, Emil can't reasonably own that many companies, like this nail salon, making millions in money in such a short time. He is doing money laundry." Fox stashes the ledger book in his backpack, along with contact lists and letters he wrote so police can match his writing. Emil is pretty much done for, at least for financial crime.

Fox then checks his clock, it's 3AM, time to go, or Emil could be back soon. He hastily zips his backpack and starts making his way out of the bedroom. Fox opens the door and hurries into the lit hallway to make his way back to the service stairwell, but his sprint is cut short when he bumps into a muscular wall.

Fox falls on his back and regains his senses to see what just happened, only to see a tall, muscular guard rottweiler standing in front of him, unaffected by his collision with Fox: "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

* * *

9AM on the same day

* * *

Fox is sitting in what looks like a cage, big enough to stand up, but not much else, large enough to make one step in each direction, but nothing else. His backpack and vest are gone, left only with his yellow bandana around his neck and collar.

The sun shining outside made the area bright enough for him to understand that he is in the mansion's basement.

"Fuck, this is bad, shit, I fucked up royalty! My commander will kill me!" He muttered, his heart pounding fast. He was dognapped before, but this is entirely different.

"Help! Please! Somebody upstairs! Help!" He screamed, to no avail.

He tried to rattle his cage's gate, forced the padlock until his fingers went numb and bent the bars using his bandana as a tourniquet to no avail. It is pure steel, thick to hold a rhinoceros if one could fit in there. He continued to scream for help in the hopes a staff member would notice and see what is going on there.

His ears flick. Footsteps approaching. "Yes! Somebody heard! Help! I'm trapped here!" he screams full of hope. The door to the cellar is out of sight, but his good hearing could hear the locks being turned and the door being swung open.

His hope quickly turned into anguish when Emil Tamilder himself stepped into sight. Fox gulps nervously, not knowing what to say.

Emil calmly walked towards the cage while Fox instinctively pressed his back against the opposite wall. The ferret is being followed by two bodyguards, one being his original captor.

He pauses and breaks the silence: "Fox Lindberg, isn't it? The husky from the K-9 Unit, who is being, how can I describe, a nuisance to me and my associates." The ferret pulls a wire plier from his pocket: "I will say this just once and you will listen carefully, Fox. From now on, every scream and noise you make, even a peep, my friend here who found you in my room will come downstairs and rip one of your teeth with this plier. One tooth per noise. Do you understand? Shake your head if you understand."

Fox shook his head in agreement, better not antagonize his captor, Emil always means business, and now that he is into his dirty side hustle, Fox wouldn't dare to test his limits. Not without a proper plan.

"Very well, you may only speak with me and only when I'm here, otherwise a tooth goes away, starting with your canines."

Fox knew this was a scare tactic, but the best way to get out of this is to play Emil's game until he finds a flaw.

Emil continued: "How did you get in here? You may speak now." Fox stared at Emil for a second, then at his rottweiler guard with an arm bigger than his own torso. He musters the courage to not let his captor thinks he is scared:

"Up in the wall, backyard, not many bodyguards at that time of the night," Fox answered with surprising confidence that even he believed his own words. Emil stared at him for a second, then turned to his other guard: "Get those shifts organized, no holes in the schedule, this shit is not acceptable." The ferret turned back to Fox:

"You are smart, Fox, you went spot on into my little operation, avoided dozens upon dozens of guards, well, except Bert here. That's the only reason you are still alive Fox, I like your mojo. Now, stay here while I think about what to do with you. And remember! Not a peep!"

Emil handed over the plier to Bert, the rottweiler, and the three walked out. "I will ask the staff to bring you food. And a bucket." Followed by the door shutting.

* * *

10PM on the same day

* * *

The hedgehog he saw last night came in earlier with a tin bucket, water and some loaves of bread. Bert was always there when the staff was handling food. Fox wasn't allowed to even open his mouth without being met with the menacing eyes of the rottweiler, eager to use his pliers on Fox.

Being captive sucks. But at this point, his friends would have noticed his absence. It was dark again outside, the K-9 team is going to be worried at this point. Fox went behind Ralph's orders not to bother Emil, his luck relies on Ralph thinking he indeed went to Emil. He and his friends would raid this place and find Fox.

<<What a rottweiler would like?>> Fox thought.

"Gosh, at this point I can just offer my leg for him to chew on in exchange for my escape."

Fox is determined to escape, brainstorming with himself, willing to toss on any idea, no matter how crazy, stupid and pervert it is.

The rest of the night is marked by a heavy storm, wind and thunders. Seems like it will be one of those nights, but at least the cellar is dry.

* * *

11AM on the second day

* * *

Fox wakes up rashly by the rattling of the cage door being slid open and sees the kitchen staff with his rations. The hedgehog dropped a bow of warm bean soup with potatoes and a plastic bottle of water.

Fox was about to open his mouth to inquire further about his situation:

"Shut up. Eat," the bodyguard interrupted firmly, closing the cage door again with a loud thud.

<<Dammit, no arguing with those, just following orders, I know how it goes,>> pondered Fox, rummaging back to his friends at the K-9 Unit. <<I wonder if they are looking for me.>>

Fox finished eating his bow of food, an odd choice for the menu, but beggars can't be choosers. Feeding means they want Fox alive, but to what end?

<<A ransom? No, Emil is rich as fuck, the whole wealth of K-9 combined would be a drop in the ocean compared to the fortune he already has. Send a message, perhaps? Nah, that would draw attention to the matter, escalating investigations. It doesn't make sense, the last thing I can think of is recruitment, Emil will force me to be a mole in the police department.>> Fox continued to ponder away, to help pass the time.

No clocks on the wall mean no notion of time. It was cloudy outside, with no sun to cast shadows to help him at least get a sense of the hour.

More time passed, and the cellar was now dark and grim again. Fox's belly and sides ached for some time now. He wondered if the food was poisoned until he ripped a loud and long fart that echoed in the darkness. He blushed in shame, this food was definitely not poisoned, but far from his regular diet.

Fox's ears stood up as the cellar door opened again, casting light from above, he was momentarily blinded when the lights in the cellar were flicked on. A familiar voice spoke:

"Good evening my dear Fox. I hope you are not too uncomfortable in your temporary accommodation."

"Emil... what do you want? Why I'm still here?"

"You see Fox, you have been a pain in the ass for years now. You know by now that my operations go beyond real estate, and honestly, they could have gone steady and fine if K-9, despite my generous sponsorship, kept his officers from nosing around."

"Hah! We will always be a hurdle for anyone who breaks the law." Fox replied contently, but part of his brain just got distracted by another cramp in his bowels building up: <<Not now, dammit!>>

"Au contraire my dear canine, K-9 knows their boundaries, staying away from my business. After all, busting me, a long-time donor and sponsor of many police and charity work would... stain their reputation."

"That's insane! Ralph would never succumb to bribery!"

"Nah, I know you canines, of course not, but Ralph and the rest of K-9 have one thing that you don't: They actually follow orders. I don't need bribery, I'm a classy ferret. My generosity goes many tiers up, so let's say, the order comes top down. Who do you think paid for your uniform?"

"You are repulsive!"

"Insults won't get us anywhere. You are always the hot-headed guy, and now that you landed right into my residence, you put me into a difficult situation on what to do next. Luckily I have a plan and a backup one just in case. Either way, I will see how it goes tomorrow and will let you know. Now I must go, business to do, you know how that goes."

As Emil walked away under Fox's raging protests, the kitchen hedgehog dropped yet another bowl of beans and potatoes:

"Can I at least have something different to eat?" Protested Fox.

"This isn't the Ritz, dog, be grateful I conceded you a bucket for you to shit with decency." Emil dismissed him as he climbed the stairs again.

Lights went off, and silence was only broken again by another loud fart.

<<Oh my god, this was killing me moments ago.>>

* * *

5PM on the third day

* * *

Fox squirmed over his next loud fart. This diet composed of beans is unintentionally causing more grief than being trapped in that cellar.

It's been about three days now, and everyone would definitely worried and searching for him. <<What plans Emil is concocting? This mystery is killing me!>>

His anxiety is making him anguish, Fox has nowhere to go, and his fate being in Emil's hands is angering him to the point of insanity. Added to this low-budget diet making him gassy and uncomfortable. It is especially challenging to keep a positive mindset when passing flatulence in front of his foes.

The cellar door swings open again. Fox stood up fast, anxious to learn what is going to happen now. But quickly lost the excitement when only the bodyguards entered the cellar. No Emil in sight.

"Sup dog, came to get my bucket of shit?" Fox asked angrily like he got a renewed dose of courage.

"Shut up, turn around and away from the cell door, we are going to cuff you. You are coming with us."

"Where to? Where are you taking me?" Fox replied without obeying his orders

"Not your concern. This is the last call before I hold my promise to yank your teeth out, in fact, might take your tongue too."

Fox frowned at the bodyguard's face, then turned away to let himself be cuffed. Better this way, at least he can get out of this place.

The bodyguards cuffed and gagged him with a rag in his mouth, placing duct tape around his head, then led him out of the cellar.

Right outside, through the same backdoor Fox used to sneak in, an unmarked is parked reverse to them, rear doors open, engine running. The rottweiler gestured for Fox to hop in.

The hounds joined Fox, closed the door and gave a firm two-taps on the ceiling. It starts moving.

Fox couldn't see where he was going, the cab window is narrow and meshed. He could only see occasional street lamps and hear other cars honking in traffic outside. The trip lasted about 30min. The door opened and two more bodyguards awaited him outside: <<Dammit, how many thick skulls this stupid ferret can hire?>>

Fox has not recognized the place. He was already inside what looked like a loading dock of a building. But judging by its cleanliness, this isn't a desolate place or a factory. He smelled around: <<Food, alcohol, and many animals besides those dogs.>>

The bodyguards led Fox into a cargo elevator that took them down a few floors. Fox couldn't figure out how deep he was going, but it was enough to make all the smells from before disappear.

As they reached the desired sub-level, Fox got pushed around hallways and corridors, making a lot of twists and turns. The walls were made of cement, like a garage wall: <<Definitely a service corridor, shit, I can't make heads and tails of where I am now, there are no signs, oh, wait! Music, I hear faint music. Do I smell a swimming pool?>> Fox was smelling the air as he gets led by the guards until finally, they reached one final metal door.

Another bodyguard, this time a hyena, greeted them in silence and let the two rottweilers in, remaining outside, closing the door behind them. The room has a single sturdy chair bolted to the cement ground, facing another heavy iron door on the opposite side of the room.

The bodyguards tied him down with leather belts. Without windows for ventilation, the air is stale, but the smell of swimming pools is stronger there.

One guard pulled out his cell phone and fast-dialled someone:

"Hello Sir... we have arrived, your guest of honour is here... copy sir." And without any expression, the rottweiler stashed his phone back on his vest. And waited.

A minute later, Fox heard a thud, followed by frantic steps getting louder towards the iron door in front of him. Someone knocked outside. The other rottweiler opened a peep hatch in the middle of the door and peeked out.

"Open the door." Commanded a familiar voice outside.

<<Emir...>> Fox thought.

* * *

The heavy door swung open, revealing the scrawny dark ferret. Emir stepped inside while his own bodyguards remained outside, shutting the door closed again.

"Ah! I'm so ecstatic to have you here already. So many things can go wrong on a simple hostage relocation, but here you are." Said Emir with a very cheerful voice that certainly annoyed Fox more than the gag preventing him to spit on that ferret's face.

"Enjoyed the trip, Fox?" Emir inquired.

"Mmmf-humm-gnrf!"

"Oh, yes..." he gestured with his hand and one of the bodyguards removed the gag, Fox angrily spat:

"God dammit Emil, what the hell is this? Where are we?"

"Oh Fox, you are definitely cuter than clever. You are at the Så Ymse club. Well, in a much more exclusive area. Only important animals are allowed, you see. And you are our main attraction tonight! Everyone out there is euphoric to see you!"

"What kind of twisted idea is that? Do you think I'm going to be a good puppet at your silly party? You better be aware that the K-9 at this point is going to bust you, they know Så Ymse is a bandit pit! And I've been missing for 3 days now, they are very good at connecting the dots there."

"Oh, you are quite right, they did connect the dots and paid a visit to Så Ymse, the whole lot the day ago. They were very concerned about your sudden disappearance. I offered them help to find you, what good philanthropic I would be if I wouldn't offer 50 trained guards to search for you."

Emil pulled a newspaper page from his vest's pocket and placed it open onto Fox's lap for him to read:

TRAGEDY AT K-9, OFFICER FOX IS PRESUMED DEAD IN THE LINE OF SERVICE.

Citizens of River Ridge congregate at the police headquarters to pay tributes to Fox Lindberg, a former K-9 Unit member who presumably died yesterday in the line of service. Fox disappeared last Monday, three days ago, while conducting his own investigations inside River Ridge's stormwater galleries. Lindberg was looking for clues that would prove those tunnels are used by drug dealers to move their products around the city out of public eyes.

Late that same night, the city got hit by a monsoon, flash flooding the galleries. The next day, search and rescue operations began looking for Fox. One day into the searches, officer Kevin Beauregard found Fox's police vest and backpack stuck underwater in the river 5km downstream. Forensic analysis of strains of fur found on the vest confirmed Fox was using those gears recently. As the search enters the third day, rescue operations are now changing to body recovery operations.

Fox's heart raced as he read through the article, a picture showing his photo from the archive next to his mudded belongings made him dizzy with adrenaline: "W-what? What is this? I'm not dead!"

"Of course not Fox! Cheer it up!" Said Emil with a smile full of teeth: "You are not really dead, just presumed dead."

Emil snaps his fingers. The bodyguards started removing the straps binding Fox to the chair, freeing him. However, not much use to run as the whole room is pure concrete with no windows.

"Follow me, Fox."

Fox hesitantly followed Emil past the heavy iron door, the one Emil came. This led to an almost identical room, the only difference now is a closed hatch in the middle of the floor, like those small hatches used in submarines, with a circular valve to unlock. They all stop by the hatch.

"I have two good news for you and just one bad. The first good news is that you will be famous very soon. The room under us is filled with high-paying guests, and they are excited to see you perform. I'm absolutely certain that you will deliver it. You always seek to be famous, the low-ranking officer who caught Emil. Well, it's not going to be that, but good fame awaits you nonetheless."

Fox tilted his head a little trying to make sense of what on earth Emil was going about. He won't perform anything to anyone. He is a respectable K-9 Officer, not some goofy dancer. Emil continued:

"The second good news, after this, I promise you that you will find your way back to your friends." He paused. Fox was more confused now.

"You are going to let me go? If I perform on your little show? Is that it?" Emil smiled with the innocent query:

"Of course. This brings me to the small detail of bad news. You will die tonight. Drowned in this tank. And after we pull your lifeless body out of the tank. We will throw you in the sewers, so it gets carried out to the river. I'm pretty sure your friends will fish your body out of the water after a few days, I hope."

It took a moment for Fox's brain to compute what he heard. He even smiled for a moment, thinking this as a joke, Emil just messing up with him, but every second, as his brain connected the dots, his heart accelerated.

He looked back and forth at Emil and the bodyguards. Nobody was laughing, not even smiling. There was no joke. His instincts finally struck: He was going to be murdered right there. And even worst: slowly.

"No... No, no, no! Emil! Please! This is insane!" His voice trembled, looking desperately at Emil.

"Ah Fox, it's brilliant. You are presumed dead outside here. We are just making it confirmed dead. Besides, the patrons down there love an aquatic show. When you drown, I get money some more money! How do you think I get rid of my competition?"

Fox was now desperate, his mind rushing in all directions, he then threw himself on his knees and cupped his hands: "Please Emil, I will do anything, please don't kill me! It was silly what I did, I recognize now you are out of limits, I was stupid, fuck, sorry Emil, tell me what to do and I will do it! I will move countries, change my name, and nobody will ever see me again!"

"Oh, poor Fox, sorry for all this. I know you enjoy life, but I can't just trust you will do that, and even if you do, I don't want to spend money making sure you don't change your mind years from now. So it's cheaper just to end you here." Emil gave another nod, and one of the bodyguards opened the hatch.

Fox's eyes started to water, not wanting to die, not like this, not right now. One of the bodyguards grabs Fox firmly by the neck and starts pushing him toward the tank. Fox could see the water, filled to the rim, and that hatch will close tight shut. He tried to gain more time by spinning around and hugging the bodyguard's waist, burying his face in his belly:

"Please don't throw me in there, I will do anything, anything at all!" Fox cried, his voice muffled by the rottweiler's brown fur on his muscular belly. The rottweiler looked confused at his peer, and then both looked with begging eyes back to Emil.

"Ugh. You guys. No, no playing with this one. We are sadly at the peak of the time, our guests are waiting." Emil replied, rubbing his forehead.

The rottweilers replied with a sad whine but obeyed his boss. He lifted Fox in the air with both arms and aimed at the top of the tank. Fox jerked, yelped and cried pleads when he started to be lowered down.

<<Oh no! I'm going to die, oh no, no, no! Shit, he is too strong, I can't hold my feet around the tank!>> Fox struggled, but he was no match to the rottweiler muscles.

"Remember to give them a good show, Fox! Oh yes! Get me his collar, I want him to enjoy the water to the fullest, I promise to return to you later, we need to identify the body later after all." Emil smiled again, and walked away, as Fox was now submerged to his neck, being held still by the rottweiler, while the other undone his collar, removing it under Fox's protests.

The other rottweiler finally started closing the hatch pushing Fox down into the water. He is just sticking the tip of his muzzle out of the water, compressed by the hatch as it continues to close. In his last attempt, Fox placed his paws right at the rim, preventing the hatch to close shut, giving him a small gap of fresh air.

He took a deep breath, thinking it could be his last. But his survival instinct kicked in, and with a strength that only adrenaline could give, he managed to push the hatch open again and pull almost half of his body out of the tank. With the iron door is still open, and hearing other voices from there, Fox screamed:

"Heeeelp!!! Pleaaaase!! They are killing me here!! Heeeeeeeelp!!!"

Nobody answered, and the chatter continued even though he was certain whoever was there heard him. But nobody is coming to his aid. A big brown paw wrapped his face and pushed him back into the tank, and the hatch finally closed shut over his head.

Silence.

The water was just a degree above body temperature. Fox opened his eyes for the first time inside the tank and looked around. It was all glass.

<<Oh no, oh no. What do I do? This is so wrong!>> He pats his neck, now missing his collar and feeling so naked. Fox pressed his head against the curved glass to try to see it through, the water made his vision out of focus, but it looks like it was full of other animals there. Tables, candles, and animals gazed upon his naked body. He twisted his body around, still holding the air in his lungs. More tables, they are watching Fox from all directions.

He thumped the glass, but seemingly in slow motion because of the water:

"Heeblrblrblp!" he screamed "Hbleerblrblpbl mblerbl!", making air bubbles flee from his open mouth.

Nobody seems to be reacting. To make matters worse, he starts to feel cramps again from his intestines.

<<No, not now, I can't fart right now! They are watching me!>>

Fox was feeling so exposed, so embarrassed. Even though he never wears pants, having his neck exposed by the missing collar and suspended in water like this, being observed like an exotic display made him blush and curl in shame.

His fur danced around as he moved in the small tank, while tiny bubbles of air trapped between his fur occasionally dispersed in the tank, slowing bubbling up, touching his tights and carefully sliding through his suspended balls, like in low gravity, gently bouncing back and forth in his inner tights as Fox moves around, helplessly looking for an exit.

Seconds feel like minutes. He starts feeling some pressure from both ends, his lungs urging to release the air, as they haven't realized this is not business as usual anymore, and his colon, clearly expanding inside him as a big bubble of fart ready itself to exit through his hole.

Instinctively, Fox tighten his butt cheeks a bit, hoping to close his rear end without drawing much attention from his observers outside the tank. Meanwhile, his head continues to race: <<What do I do? Aren't they going to help me? Why are they not concerned???>>

He makes a fist with his paws and bangs with all his strength against the curved glass wall, screaming:

"I'blmbl dblrowblniblng!! Blblreakblbl thblble glblblassbl!!"

More bubbles escape his lungs in his attempts to contact them. He starts to realize how close his death is imminent. He is scared, he is afraid it would hurt. Images of his friends at the K-9 start flashing in front of him. He doesn't want to lose them, he doesn't want to die.

His thoughts only got interrupted by another sharp pain coming from his abdomen, as more gas formed from his diet of beans and potatoes rapidly started to move out of his colon. He clenched his butt, even more, preventing his fart to escape. This action caused a painful ball of gas to move back again into his lower intestines. But he could relieve the tightness of his butt cheeks for now. Hopefully, nobody has noticed this.

A small string of bubbles starts fleeing his nostrils. His body wanted to recycle the air already spent inside his lungs. Fox desperately covered his mouth and nose shut with his paw, to preserve every single bubble of air.

In his mind, he fantasized that his friends at K-9 are still going to bust that place, break the glass and save him. He just has to fight this long enough and buy them more time. But deep inside, he knew he would eventually swallow the water from this tank and die, but this lie will keep him comfortable.

During his thoughts, his body tried again to sneak on his back and release some of the spent air. He was caught by surprise as small bubbles of air started leaking from his nose and mouth again, right through the fingers of his paw. Bubbles danced upwards, pooling on the top of the tank, in a silver-looking upside-down puddle.

His body gave a little spasm, as his fight against his own brain started to intensify. His sheath and balls kept moving in slow motion in the crystal clear water, with small bubbles trapped around and inside his sheath. His body was now trying everything to break his resolve and breathe, despite the obvious outcome, by throwing in distractions.

He even felt a slight tingling sensation in his balls and groin, as tiny micro-bubbles once trapped in his fur got free, rubbing against his most sensitive parts, making the tip of his red member poke out of his sheath, Fox immediately crossed his legs to try to conceal his initial erection.

Small distractions like this almost worked, a stream of air rushed into his mouth, making his cheeks puff out behind his paw. Some tiny bubbles managed to force their way out through his paws. Fox saw those bubbles passing in front of his eyes, like sand going down the hourglass that counts his time left to be alive.

<<No, please, stay inside. Stupid body, hold this air!>>

His mind started to get fuzzy, and his oxygen deprivation is starting to get a toll on him, as more disconnected thoughts about his life and death swim in his brain. Only to be brought back again to his grim reality by another, and this time, intense pain in his pressurized abdomen. This made him lose the attention from his upper body, allowing air trapped in his mouth to escape, deflating his cheeks, making bursts of bubbles: "bubbllr!"

Gas from his intestines moved forward again, this time with tremendous pressure, hurting his insides. Fox clenched his butt cheeks, this time very tight, making his hamstrings muscles really tense: <<Oh please, I hope they are not seeing this! This is so embarrassing!>>

But the audience did. His tensed muscles highlighted the well-fit body, strong hamstrings, and tightly shut butt, revealing how well he did on leg day. Fox kept holding his rear firmly shut, but this time the pressure wasn't going away like before, the ball of gas isn't backing out, blocked by his small hole tightly clenched.

Fox concentrated on keeping his hole clenched and his rear tight. That gave the audience quite a view, and Fox, an immensurable shame. However, as more seconds passed by, his small ring muscle keeping his hole shut gave away. Fox's eyes widened as he felt what he feared:

"Prrrblrblr-blr-blr-blr-blr..."

A steady and small string of fart bubbles starts exiting his butthole and through his butt cheeks. The only thing keeping it going all at once was now his tightened-up butt muscles. The scary thought of everyone observing him farting a small stream of gas distracted him from keeping his air in the lungs, and more air managed to escape into his mouth again, puffing up his cheeks.

Fox closed his eyes, now holding both paws on his nose and mouth so he could focus on his rear muscles. Still, small lone bubbles seem to always find a way out, to add to his panic: "Prrblr-prblr-blr-blr-prrblr..." they continued.

But even a fit police dog couldn't sustain such exercise, his muscles started to shake, reaching their limit, all while the string of fart kept escaping him: "blr-blr...prrblr-blr-prrblr..."

He knew he was letting small bubbles of fart escape, he could see them floating up, dancing around him as they raise: <<At least my friends are not seeing me like this, so humiliating!>> he cried in his thoughts.

While in it, his muscles slowly started to relax. Unaware of this, Fox kept going about his pride inside his mind, when his muscles finally received the last stimulus from their distracted owner to contract:

"PFFTBLRFBL-BLOORFBLTRFBL pfftb-fftpfblt! prrrBLORFBLTRBL!"

His belly and abdomen deflated in relief, but the amount of fart made his butt cheeks vibrate in and out as large white bubbles emerged from within, sending ripples through the rest of his body like he was a living echo chamber. As his buttcheeks clap on every burst of gas exiting, voluminous bubbles of fart climbed to the top of the tank, occasionally breaking into smaller bubbles, making a sizeable gas pocket at the top of the tank.

Fox kept his eyes tightly shut, too ashamed to look at the blurry spectators outside. Fart bubbles caressed his torso and arms as they passed by, touching his ears and making crisp noises: "blblr! Bublrp!". Naked and farting in front of strangers was akin to a nightmare.

He was living this nightmare now on his own terms. His skin flushed red as his pride shatters in his last moments, the last memorable impression on those strangers is going to be him farting. A proud K-9 officer, reduced to it.

But his body wasn't done yet, it seized control of his lungs now, making Fox unable to order his diaphragm to stay put.

The air inside him started to burn, and the needed relief to exhale was now only blocked by Fox holding his airways shut by his paws. He let another small burst of air out of his mouth, deflating his cheeks in search of some form of relief, but it only made it worse, his body yearns for more now.

Fox jerked around the tank, getting more irrational, looking around for something new, but the tank remained unchanged, just the eyes from his observers shifted positions now and then. His muscles contracted involuntarily, fighting an invisible enemy, more air tried to make its way out of Fox, puffing up his cheeks to the limit, forcing him to pinch his lips shut.

All this movement made his paw slide off his nose a bit, making air escape in many short streams through his nose: "brrrblblbl... blblrp blrp blrp... blrp blrp blrp," giving a sequence of relief followed by increasing pressure. Nervous, Fox tried to control the flow but instead inhaled a bit of water, stinging the inside of his nose:

"Blblaargblb!!" he screamed.

More air escaped from this sloppy accident, once again the air trapped in his cheeks. He pinched his nose firmly again, now to the point of hurting his delicate muzzle.

<<I don't want to die! Please!!>> he panicked inside his mind, swivelling his body around, making his muscles cast stunning shadows on the bright light illuminating the tank, delineating his fit body, his plumb young balls dancing gently in the water, hanging down from his rather big sheath.

<<I'm going to die!>> his resolve started to break, and his eyes widened. He knew it was only a matter of time before his body stop obeying him and commanded a big deep breath, the action that would finally kill him. His legs twitched, and involuntary spasms pushed more air back to his mouth, puffing out his cheeks to the point of hurting them. Tiny bubbles escaped from his sealed lips, distracted by so many things he has to control.

Fox could hear his heartbeats, and although stressed, he could sense them slowing down, but that doesn't help his intense need for air. He looked up and saw that big pocket of air trapped at the top of the tank. <<I can't! That is my fart! I can't breathe my own fart!>>

He looked around, hoping nobody would be there anymore, conceding him some dignity. But no, everyone was locked on him, like carnivores looking at a piece of fresh meat.

He felt a pain in his throat, enough to move the hand previously holding his lips to his own throat. The muscles in his throat are under a lot of stress. Fox increased pressure on his throat, starting to strangle himself, hoping to keep those muscles from falling out of his control.

His brain couldn't process anything aside from his embarrassment and humiliating death. In trying to release the air from his mouth to reduce the pain of his stretched cheeks, his body took the opportunity to release all his air at once:

"blr blr blr-BLURBLRUBLRURLBBBLRRRBLRbrrrr", frozen in horror, seeing those crystal bubbles leaving his body like his own life essence going away, Fox felt the much-desired momentary relief in his chest, with all those bubbles adding to the mirror-like pocket above.

For a brief moment, Fox could enjoy some relief, but sadly, it rapidly changed once his body demanded that he inhale now. Getting desperate, he fought his conflicting thought of going up to the pocket of exhaled air and farting. He looked around, hoping to see pity from anyone, but none were given. He felt his eyes crying in embarrassment and misery, though all tears mixed with the water.

Fox closed his eyes, and against his so much valued pride, he pushed himself up the pocket of rejected gases and took a deep breath.

Fox could smell the stench of his own fart all inside his mouth and nose as he submerged again into the water. His brain regained a bit of clarity, enough for him to realize what he just did. He could see his observers chattering louder.

Although not able to make out the words, he knew they are talking about him and his stunt, and his shame seemed to entertain them.

Fox's perspective quickly changed from fear and desolation into anger. Everyone outside is enjoying his suffering, his humiliation... his imminent death. His blood boiled with the thought, and began banging violently against the glass, screaming with every fibre of his existence:

"Fublrblrck! Hblrelpblbr blrbme! I'blmbl Fublrblckng dblrowblniblng!!"

Those screams cost a lot of air, but his irrational mind is filled with anger, he kept going:

"Wablbth thble fublckblr? Heblrblp mblerbl!"

Big bubbles formed around his mouth on every plead, pooling again on the top of the tank.

He banged on the glass, kicked, and tumbled angrily around the tank, trying his very best to convey the seriousness of his situation. But all he did was to draw more chatter from them. Fox is in disbelief.

His lungs are now spent, with no air inside. Fox grips his throat very tight with one of his paws to sabotage his involuntarily inhale. He wouldn't allow it.

Fox was at his limit, his throat, lungs and head hurt so much. He muster all willpower that was left and continued to bang the glass with his other hand. He twisted and jerked around to distract himself from his pain, his vision starting to blur.

Fox opened and closed his muzzle repeatedly, everyone could read "help" from his lips, but no bubbles or sound echoed out, there was no more air left to scream. His determination kept him going, his feet kicking, and his hand banging, each time slower, and slower.

He felt a jolt of pain and a sudden knock coming from his throat as his body finally commanded his final inhale. But Fox will fight until the end, and he refuses to let go of his grip around the throat.

Fox's field of vision started to get narrower by the second, and his pain started to subdue slowly. His energy to fight was slipping away, and his next bangs were gentle touches against the glass. Embraced by the water, his eyes, now drowsy, captured the last light as his vision now blackened completely.

He isn't moving anymore, he couldn't. He is still conscious, but his body is in a dreamy state. His brain released all the serotonin and dopamine it had in store, a big explosion of good sensations as Fox witnessed his neurons firing all at once, giving him the gift of reliving his life's best moments again in a split second.

He smiled as he faded into nothingness, and his consciousness gently ceased its existence.

His grip around the throat loosened, letting the last bubbles of air escape through his mouth and nose, giving room for the water to nestle inside him.

* * *

The lights on the tank dimmed and shut, bringing the tank to full darkness. The guests who watched the whole ordeal in awe stood up and roared in approval, applauses filled the room.

"This was way more orgasmic than I anticipated! I'm spent! This guy is a pro!" said Alfred, still standing up and praising the magnificent performance of this mysterious guest.

"It looked so real! I don't know how they do that, I'm so glad we came here on time!" The gazelle yelled at Alfred over the loud ovation from the patrons.

* * *

Back at the upstairs tank room, the rottweiler pulled Fox's limp and lifeless body out of the tank. His fur was drenched, his eyes still half open, jaws hanging just so slightly. They dragged him away from the hatch and let him rest on his back on the concrete floor. Both rottweiler bodyguards contemplated Fox for a moment, gazing at his almost peaceful expression:

"What a shame, he was such a cutie," said one bodyguard to another.

"Yeah, the guy fought til the end, never saw that. Respect."

"Hmm. Help me put him in the cart, we need to drive him out."

They usually just toss the bodies into the cart like a bag of trash, but for such perseverance, they felt they owe Fox the dignity of handling his body with care, placing him gently into the cart, then wheeling him out to the room, to finish up the plan Emil instructed them to do.

With Fox now dead, and the K-9 Unit shocked by such a terrible misadventure, Emil could continue his operations without issues. That, until someone else tried to cross his path again. But for that, Angel's Dive will always be open to another special guest.