FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Okay! Hey! Finally! So, here is the new chapter. after months of waiting. Super duper sorry. I owe all of you big huge hugs for making you guys (and maybe gals?) wait so long. but. because i couldn't stand to make you wait another second, I stayed up way into the night, finishing up this chapter. so, i hope you like it. read on! and leave your brain matter at the end. I do love comments. :)

(By brain matter, I mean your thoughts. please do not injure yourself trying to actually leave brain matter. It will make me sad. :< thank you.)

Something didn't feel quite right. Butch knew the minute he left the gym something was off. Sure, he felt superb; like jumping off walls and dancing through the commons area... but he didn't. He felt strange. His fur felt heavy and his skin was getting goose bumps as a wet chill spread through his body. It wasn't until he felt a constant drumming on his skin, like he was in a cold shower of rain that he figured out what was going on. He didn't want it to be true.

He had just told the man of his dreams that he loved him. He had overcome something awful in that moment and he didn't want to let it go. He clung to his surroundings desperately even as the walls around him wavered and melted away. His clothes dissolved off his body and the school disappeared from view. He was in darkness, alone and cold. His eyes opened a crack and dim light filtered through his lids. Blue tiled walls and a steady stream of frigid water broke his dream as his back trembled in the cold.

The reality of the situation was daunting. It had felt so real, but it was only a dream. It didn't seem fair, that he could be fooled so easily. His mind hated fate at the moment, it cursed itself. Emotions ran rampant through him until he couldn't keep it contained anymore and he let it out in the only way he could: his fist flashed through the air and slammed into the first thing it could find, the wall; tears streaming down his face at both the pain and his thoughts. He had wanted it so much, even his mind knew what he wanted, that it had projected his desires into his dream. Butch knew he just had to have it happen for real, but first he needed to get out of the cold water.

It was freezing. He cut the water with a quick swipe of his paw, opening the glass door and stepping out, dripping onto the white tiled floor. It had been almost an hour since he had jumped in the shower and fallen asleep. Thinking back into the dream, he must have known subconsciously that he'd be in there for a while. He hoped that today would yield similar results in his real life to that of the ones in his dream. With that goal in mind he repeated what his dream self had said. "Dad's going to kill me." In a way he foolish for saying them, and the words rung false in his ears, like lines given by a poor actor.

He toweled off, fluffing his fur as it dried before wrapping the blue material around his waist and leaving the bathroom. He didn't really need to have the towel on, but it felt like something to do, so he did it. He thought back to his dream to try and remember what he had been wearing. He remembered the first part of his wardrobe pretty quickly. It was his favorite dark blue jockstrap. It fit him perfectly and cupped his junk like the hands of a lover feeling him up while framing his ass like a piece of art on display in a gallery. He rummaged through his dresser to try and find it, but it wasn't there. He continued searching through the drawer until he eventually just started chucking jocks out of it. His favorite jock wasn't to be found. In despair, he snatched at the nearest jock on the floor and pulled it on. It was a solid black color with a red stripe down the center of the pouch, but nothing special.

After donning the jock he headed into his closet to find the clothes he had worn in his dream, but again he failed to locate the necessary pieces. Instead he put on tight blue jeans and a purple polo, throwing a green jacket on over that. It wasn't the same, but if he didn't leave, he would be late; and if he was late... Well, nothing would really be different, but it felt like today hinged on it being just like the dream. If he didn't follow the map his dream had drawn him, he'd get lost and he'd never get to tell Richard how he felt. Butch threw on some socks and his shoes before grabbing his stuff and racing up the stairs, tripping as his foot caught on the last step. His nose slammed into the floor, a fierce hot pain flooding his senses as he rolled over on the ground.

With his nose in his hands he hastily headed for the kitchen. His Mom was in there with a bowl of cereal for Tanya. She saw him holding his nose and she instantly tried to take care of it for him, but Butch just calmly dismissed her, grabbed a tissue and held it to his nostril to collect the blood gushing out. It still hurt, but the pain was growing bearable. He smooched his mom on the cheek, careful not to get any fluid on her, before heading out the door. His little fiasco had cost him precious time; he'd have to gun it to get to school on time.

He jumped into his car, slinging his pack off his shoulder and tossing it and his duffel bag in the back of the car. Thrusting his keys in the ignition, he flicked the vehicle into life. When the engine was running smoothly, he sped away from the driveway, down the road they lived on and away to school. He was headed a bit fast, maybe five or ten miles above the limit, but the roads were deserted and he felt certain if he just kept this up for a few more miles, he'd be right on time. Heading down his usual route, everything was clear for miles, until suddenly Butch saw the tail end of a car around a corner. Slowing down, he continues down the road, only to discover more cars in front of him. Not a whole lot, but none moving. At the front of the line of cars, a trail of smoke loomed into the air.

Butch sighed, knowing that he was going to be late to school. Why was today turning out so bad for him; why couldn't everything be smooth and easy like in the dream. He stopped his vehicle behind the one in front of him. All was silent and regrettably unmoving, a pregnant pause as people wondered if the drivers were ok. All Butch could think of however was, "Why couldn't they have gotten in an accident tomorrow?"

Finally a white and blue cop car pulled around the bend behind Butch. His lights were going and in the morning sun, Butch could make out the face of a very attractive Doberman. Again Butch couldn't help but patronizingly wonder, "Why the hell is every cop in the world a Doberman?" The cop turned his lights off and stepped out of his vehicle. He was wearing the traditional uniform, blue pants, white shirt, badge, hat, and a belt heavily laden with the tools of the trade. He walked up to Butch's car window and knocked on the glass. Butch didn't know why he wanted to talk to him, but he rolled his window down anyway.

The cop was nice, and spoke respectfully at least. He asked if Butch knew what was going on and if he was all right. "I'm fine. I don't really know what is going on. Not to be a bother or tell you how to do your job, but if maybe you could make it so that we could go past soon, that would be great. I'm gonna be late for class because of this." The cop smiled and pulled out his notepad. With a quick swipe of his pen he had written a quick note excusing Butch's tardy and explaining the reason, including at the bottom his signature, badge number, and contact information. Then he assured Butch they'd be able to move soon, finishing the statement with a quick flash of a pearly white smile and a wink. Then he handed Butch the note and walked forward to the next car. True to his word, the line of cars was allowed to pass the wreck once the car was towed off the road, and Butch was back on his way to school. He hoped that he'd be able to stow his bag somewhere. He didn't want to lug it around all day.

When he arrived at school, class had already begun. Just to make sure, Butch ran through the cold to the teacher parking lot. Not only did he not see Mr. Fenton, he didn't see the truck either. He didn't know what to think, but he decided rather than stay outside in the cold, he'd question Mr. Fenton about it later. As he turned, bags still slung over his shoulders, the wind picked up and blew into his face, biting with its cold teeth. A shiver ran down Butch's spine as he made his way back to the front door of the school. Luckily the doors were still unlocked to let in stragglers. Butch made his way down the deserted hallway. A glance backward at the door revealed he'd gotten inside at just the right time. Outside, the wind had visibly picked up and was whipping the small trees planted in neat rows along the road about crazily. He didn't envy anyone outside in that wind.

He walked down the white tiled hall with its dark blue lockers, his feet making light screeches every time his shoe made contact with the floor. The sound irked him and he did his best to reduce the noise, but to no avail. Modern shoes just weren't made for noise reduction.

Butch made his way down the hall of lockers to his class. He made a quick stop at his own locker and did his best to stuff his bag into the tight space. With little success, he began rearranging the contents of his small metal locker and finally managed to fit everything. It wasn't neat, and would make switching out his books a pain, but it would suffice for the day. He shut his locker, the hinges groaning against him, begging him not to make it hold such bulky, large objects. But with one final shove, the locker clicked shut and his luggage was safely stowed away. Alone in the silence of the still hall he took a moment and leaned against the cool metal, pressing his forehead to the door of his locker, already mentally exhausted from the day, and it had hardly even begun.

After a short breather he began to walk to his first class: American Government. The class was at the end of the hall, and since the school was really just one big hall, he had a way to go before he'd reach the thick wooden door in a small niche that was his classroom. As he trekked the long passageway, he wondered if he'd do as well on the test he knew was coming as he did in his dream. In a way he guessed he should be thankful for the dream's review. Surely it refreshed his mind on a lot of subjects. Butch shook his head, wondering why the fuck he was so caught up over a stupid dream; like it could spell fortune or disaster for him. It was so stupid. Butch's fists clenched up in mild fury for a second, scoffing at himself for playing such stupid mind games with himself, but then images of him and Richard in the gym, embracing, teary eyed as loving revelations were made between them. The heat of the memory was a vivid reminder, so strong it literally turned his legs to jelly for a second. Butch barely caught himself on the wall as he suddenly drooped halfway to the side. His heart burned for that feeling, desperate to have Richard hold him again.

With a new energy, Butch sprinted down the hallway, backpack bouncing behind him as his feet made heavy impacts with the floor. As he drew near the end of the hall, he planted his shoe in the floor to help draw him to a stop. Butch slid around the corner in a fluid movement that was really quite impressive. He took a moment to gather himself and catch his breath before opening the door and quietly entering the room, closing the door behind him. As he took his seat, Mr. Potter came over to him and placed a scantron and a test packet on his desk; simultaneously asking him as to his tardy. Butch handed him a slip of paper that the cop had given him. Mr. Potter accepted it silently and returned to his desk, allowing Butch to get situated and begin his test.

The rest of the class went by quite simply, and quietly. The test was a breeze as the answers practically leaped into his brain. History was never Butch's strong suite, but Mr. Potter had a way of making even the harder concepts make sense. Butch even finished the test earlier than most of the other student's giving him time to think. He thought about his dream, and about Richard; and finally about Mr. Fenton. In his dream he had decided not to go. At least, that's what he thought he decided. Now he couldn't remember if he had changed his mind about going, or if he just changed his mind about having sex with Mr. Fenton. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure about the end of his dream. It was sort of a blur after everything. Putting it in perspective, he still wasn't sure if he wanted to do either. There was definitely an urge to. After all, it's just sex.

But he didn't want to disappoint or hurt Richard. He couldn't bare that. Butch supposed he may as well talk with Richard for real before making any final decision. There is no harm in that. Talk to Richard, worry about the rest later.

The next class went by in much a similar pattern. As expected, Butch sat next to Carly and they spent the period playing cards and talking about random things (particularly random on Carly's hand). By the time the class was over, they had played BS, Kings Corners, and a rather boring game of squeek. Only one game of Squeek though. It works better with more people playing; two is very laid back. At the end of the class, Butch packed up his belongings and waved his hand at Carly as he passed through the door. His heart was starting to beat in his chest hard, its pace quickening the flow of blood through his body. He was nervous, giddy even. Butch was scared about the many different ways this encounter could go, but also ecstatic about the one ending he wanted.

The throng of furs around him milled about, heading to their individual destinations. The hallway was choked with the number of students who chose to hang out and converse with friends rather than hurry to class in their free time. Different groups congregated in different areas, sparsely interacting with each other. To be truthful, it almost seemed as though the rest of the world didn't exist to most furs. It was just them, their friends, and the ruckus in the room they had to talk over. No one paid mind to anyone, and everyone fended for themselves, rarely holding out a paw of help to those around them. The world was isolated; unless something happened to crash someone into another fur's life, you went unnoticed.

Butch weaved through the crowd, pushing his sudden existential thoughts out of his head. It felt good to not be so focused on the dream and the encounter with Richard ahead of him, but this was no time to be dawdling over semantics. Butch turned his head away from the group he had been staring at as he mused over their walled off existence, and narrowly avoided colliding with one of the protruding sections of wall that occupied every twenty paces of the hall. Quickly sidestepping the outcrop, he continued on his way rubbing a temple. "Man, this really isn't my day."

Butch passed by his locker with a glance - not for any particular reason, it just marked a way point in the hall that never ended. In his mind, his locker was the center of the hall; it was a beacon for him to position himself by, the lighthouse to keep his ship from crashing on the rocky shores of the school. He couldn't help eyeing it as he passed it by, just by force of habit. As its shiny green surface gleamed its reflected light at him, it seemed to give him courage and hope for the encounter ahead of him. On odd sense of bewildering assurance washed over him, as if to say that everything was accounted for and whatever happened, happened for a reason, and would happen exactly as it should.

This strange feeling caught his attention and he bowed his head as the implications ran rampant in his head. Could this be perhaps some kind of message from God? That everything would work out in the end and that he had it in his control? Or was he just turning certifiably insane, like his friend, making things of what isn't. He wasn't sure but it wasn't going to distract him... BONK!

Ahem... apparently he spoke to soon as his nose throbbed with sudden pain. Stars swam before his blurry vision as he tried to come to terms with the gripping pain in his nose. Yet again, for the second time today, he felt a wet presence hover at the edge of his nostril, building slowly and tickling like mad. A quick finger press later informed him that, yes, he had another bloody nose. With silent cursing, he struck the closed door in front of him with his foot. A dull satisfaction came with punishing the door, but his nose called his attention back as he could feel it about to drip.

With blinding speed he pinched his nose between thumb and forefinger and opened the hallways safety door he had knocked into moments before. The nurses office he knew was just on the other side of that door and to the left, just across from the office's crystal clear glass door. Behind him he heard some quiet snickering from a young vixen, obviously a witness to his humiliating defeat by the wooden door. Butch ducked into the nurse's room, mainly for medical assistance, but now also to avoid the giggly girl in the hall.

Inside, the nurse sat behind a small, heavily drawered desk, staring at him behind her slim spectacles holding a copy of Jane Austin's Pride and Prejudice. She was a heavy set Sloth, wearing the typical nurse type clothing: light blue scrubs with a pink floral pattern on the shirt. She studied Butch with an indiscriminate eye before dog-earing the page she was on and pulling a tissue from the box on her desk. Butch grimaced at the defiled book; gritting his teeth at the dog-earing, a method he considered reproachable, he accepted the tissue she offered to him and pushed it to his nose to collect the blood.

"I'm afraid that's about all I can do for your nose sonny." Butch nodded at her and accepted that. Honestly, he didn't really care, a tissue was all he came for. He glanced at the back of the room where a skunk and a monkey sat on one of the small beds together, munching on cheese and crackers. If any of the office people came by and asked about the two students hanging in the nurse's office, she would say they were feeling lightheaded and explain it all away, but the truth of the matter was they were skipping class. Most kids thought the nurse was "cool" because she would let kids she knew skip class in there, but Butch considered it disgusting and had little respect for the lazy, good for nothing nurse. Such is life though, and what can you do?

The bell chimed the start of the next class and Butch pulled a few more tissues from the box on the desk before bolting out of the nurses' office without another word. He discarded his bloodied tissue in the next trash receptacle he passed on his way across the commons, heading for the gymnasium double doors. Now was the moment of truth, the moment he had been waiting on all day. He just had to wait until the end of class, and then he could talk to Richard. One more test before he could make his dream come true.

It seemed odd -of all things- that a gym class should have a written test; but as it was, a written test was what they got. The students all scattered across the bleachers and took position away from each other, making themselves as comfortable as they could. Coach McClure was standing by the door, a stack of paper packets sitting on a chair next to him. His eyes jumped to Butch when he came through the door and his mouth opened slightly when he saw him, before closing sternly. Those eyes, they spoke worlds to Butch, so much that he had to divert his own gaze to keep from bursting out right now. They were so lonely. So loving. Coach bent a tad and picked up a packet from the chair before holding it out to Butch. It was only a few pages thick, front and back; probably maybe 60 multiple choice questions, 5 open response and a bonus question thrown in for extra credit.

Butch reached out and took the papers from Coach's hand without saying anything. He didn't trust himself or his voice at the moment. He needed to make it through this test first, and wait until the end of class when everyone left. Then he'd be able to talk freely. That when everything would be settled, and then all would be made right again. Right? That was how it would pan out, isn't it? Uncertainty trembled in his body, causing his arm to visibly shake as he took the test from Coach's paw.

Before he could take the packet completely though, Richard's other paw came to rest on his. Butch looked up into Richard's soft eyes. "You're going to be ok, right? Are you ok?"

Completely caught off guard and captivated by Richard, all Butch could manage to respond with was, "huh?"

"Are you ok? You're shaking. My tests aren't that hard are they?" He flashed a grin at Butch, clearly trying to cheer him up. The fact he was trying to make Butch happy while acting completely normal ate at Butch. Raw emotion threatened to surge forward... but Richard's smile warded away such feelings. Despite everything, Butch found himself smiling back at Richard, nodding at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just... hit my nose on the way here on a door. A bit squeamish, you know? Blood and all." Butch lied.

"Oh, ok. Well, if you need to step out for a minute, just let me know. Ok?"

"Ok. Thanks Coach." Butch took the papers and his paw away from Coach and was about to start walking to his own spot on the bleachers when Richard put his hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

"Hey." Butch looked back over his shoulder at him, staring up into his eyes with an expecting look. Richard opened and then closed his mouth, seemingly at a loss as to what he was going to say. "Do good on the test. Won't you?"

Butch could tell this isn't really what he wanted to say. There was definitely something else he had on his mind, but he nodded anyway and went and took his seat. "I will," he whispered to himself, "I'll do good. For you."