Runaway (Oliver, Chapter 1)
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This was meant to be the first chapter, and there will be more if there's some interest ^^. This story is gritty and a little raw, leaning more toward thriller/noir than romance.
**Chapter titles are songs/bands, usually something relevant <3.
Constructive criticism, if you will. My apologies for any mistakes/errors, please feel free to let me know if you find any. Comments are encouraged, critique appreciated.**
**Adult means adult. You know what you're in for.
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Chapter 1: Runaway - Zebrahead
It had been years since Oliver had left home. It would have been a tough decision if he'd had any choice in the matter. He had always loved his family...he treasured every memory that he had of them. It was something else entirely that made him leave...something much darker. Anymore he tried not to think about it.
He remembered all of the stories that his mother used to tell him and his sister when they were young. Some were lighthearted, meant to send them off into a peaceful sleep in a fantasy world...whereas others were meant to teach them the lessons necessary to survive. Thinking back now, he knew that none of those well-practiced stories could have ever prepared him for what his life would become...
*****
Oliver walked alone down the dark and wet street. The misty drizzle that was left over from the thunderstorm coated his fur with water, making this particularly muggy day even more miserable. The streetlights flickered as he walked by, and a bit of steam rose up from the manholes in the road. Even on a nice night, this city looked exactly like its namesake: Hell.
He moved quickly, walking down the alleyways that he knew were safe to travel, taking a slight detour to avoid an encounter with the homeless that would gather around nightfall. He was lucky not to be homeless himself. He barely got by as it was, and his social life was practically non-existent because of his job. He never knew when he'd get called in, and there weren't any "days off". Sure, it paid well...but in this town, 'well' was hardly enough for him to afford to eat. He'd spent last winter huddled in his room with a kerosene heater after having to choose food over the gas company. This year he was hoping it would be better.
Tomorrow would be good, though. He'd gotten a bit of a bonus this time, and tomorrow he didn't have any appointments. He was sitting on an extra five hundred dollars...which can be difficult to keep your paws on. The downside was that he had to walk home through the city, and he knew that not even the deepest circle of the real hell could be so vile. He was lucky he hadn't been mugged yet...he'd heard a few gunshots already, but luckily they seemed distant. He knew where the homeless gathered, and he knew the safest routes...but even on a good day, they were only safer, not safe.
A sigh of relief escaped his muzzle as he crossed the last street and reached the fire escape for his apartment building. He climbed up to the top and unlocked the padlock on the window and crawled inside. The doorway was boarded up because the owner was too cheap to buy a new door when it was ripped off of its hinges during a drunken brawl; compliments of his neighbors. Oliver actually didn't mind much: his was the most secure apartment in the building. Most locks can be picked, or doors kicked in. His door was two rows of two-by-fours riddled with screws with a two-inch sheet of drywall in the middle. The only downside was that it was hard to have company when your door is just a wall of two-by-fours. It never bothered him. He wasn't really sure if the sorts of friends he made here were the kind of people he'd want over.
He closed the window and put the pad lock on the inside to lock it. He looked around the small apartment that had been his home for a little over a year now. He had a small refrigerator that was hardly ever used; practically empty save for a half-gallon of milk that he knew was likely expired, and leftover Chinese that was, also, likely expired. On the left was an old microwave with worn numbers on the pad and a broken display screen. The sink next to the microwave was fairly clean, and he'd worked hard to keep it so. The couch was worn, but for the most part, intact. His blanket and pillow were sitting on the armrest, having been quite neglected this past week. He had a small coffee table in front of the couch with a laptop computer on it, and behind that, a small television with a rigged cable box.
He walked into the bathroom and took off the wet clothes he'd been wearing and grimacing. The heat and drizzle made everything feel sticky and sweaty. He turned on the water in the bathtub and let it run. There was no shower. Hell, he was lucky enough to have gotten a bathroom that wasn't entirely beyond saving. He'd spent a lot of time cleaning it up when he first got the place...he at least wanted to be able to feel clean in his bathroom.
As the steaming water slowly filled the bathtub, Oliver looked at himself in the small mirror above the bathroom sink. He sighed as he met his own eyes. His own mother probably wouldn't even recognize him now. The last few years had been hard on him...and the sadness lingered in his eyes, making the red stripes that trailed down from them almost seem fitting. He felt a wave of shame sweep through him as he looked down to see the large scar on his left shoulder. There was a smaller scar on the back of his shoulder from the entry wound. It wasn't his only scar...he had many now; emotional and physical. Life was hard here...especially in his line of work. It didn't take long before it showed.
Oliver looked back at the bathtub and took a deep breath. It was nearly full, and he was happy to be able to slip into the soothingly hot water and relax for a while. He hadn't been able to enjoy a real bath in almost two months. He'd barely managed to pay the bills this month, so he intended to make the best of it. He let out a soft sigh as he felt the muscles in his back loosen letting himself soak in the steaming water. For about half an hour he just lay there, letting his mind trail away from his worries and scars.
After soaking for while, he grabbed the bottle of shampoo and worked it into his fur, taking his time to make sure that his long, bushy tail was thoroughly cleaned. He rinsed himself off in the hot water and smiled as his reddish fur shined after being washed. He got out of the tub and used one of his oversized towels to dry himself. Then again, almost everything was slightly oversized to him. He was a red panda, and short, even for their standards. Being a small breed had its advantages, though. Red pandas weren't very common...and that was a plus for finding work when you're in the world's oldest profession.
The daydream could only last for so long. Once he had dried himself off and pulled the plug on the tub, he looked into the mirror and felt the tears swell up in his eyes. This wasn't what he wanted...when he was a cub, he'd dreamed of one day making a difference in the world, or being someone that his family would be proud of. He'd wanted to be a computer programmer, a writer, a musician...Instead he had fallen victim to the system like many others. Instead of following his dreams, the curse of minimum wage pushed him onto the streets, and it wasn't long before he was pulled into the only job a boy his age with a fragile - even feminine - body could do in this town: he became a hustler.
The memories were enough to leave him sobbing. He'd severed all ties with his family when he lost his job and had to turn to the streets...but now he knew that he could never go back to being the son that they'd loved so much...after a few years of having old, perverted men shove their cock into your tail hole for money, it's hard to look your mother in the eyes and tell her you've been doing well.
So he cried. Again tonight like every night. The same people he felt he could never show his face to again were the ones that he wanted. He wanted his family...he wanted the love he once had. He needed the warmth, the security, the comfort...but what he had instead was a lonely, dirty apartment to come home to after having a group of three strangers tie him up and take turns having their way with him. He needed the money...but every day was a new hell. Even being gay, you can only like it for so long. After the first few, almost all of the pleasure in sex was beat out of him. After a while, you lose count...and it's just a job. A few years in the game, and you'll bend over and lift your tail without a second thought when someone flashes you a couple of bills. He wasn't proud of it. The closest thing he had to friends was a few customers that he'd work off the books. They'd stop in, chat for a while, and pay to get their rocks off. A few didn't even bother paying; they just came and took what they wanted. There wasn't much he could do about it though...the cops in this town are likely to just do the same. No soul lives in this town uncorrupted. When you're as frail as Oliver...or when you just stop caring anymore, the list of horrible things that happen to you just start to feel like the consequences of survival.
Today he'd gotten paid extra because the client had enjoyed him.
'Enjoyed.'
That was a fucked up thing to hear someone say about you. It didn't even faze him anymore. The client paid Oliver's boss for his time tomorrow, and told him to get some rest. It was a first, and Oliver wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad about it. He knew that he would likely be serving the same client the day after tomorrow, and it was a little nice to be working for a familiar client, especially one that had treated him well...And who was willing to pay for an entire day's work just to give him a day off.
*****
A knock came at the window and Oliver walked over, covering himself with a light bed sheet. To no surprise, the landlord had come for the rent. Oliver opened the window and lifted it.
"Hey, kid." The landlord said
"Hey Jim..." Oliver answered, knowing what would come next.
"Rent's due, kid. You can pay me the rent money...or you can let me in, and we can talk about it." The landlord said, a greasy smile coming to his canine face. The German shepherd was far from good looking, and was one of the lowest forms of filth that Oliver had ever set eyes on. He knew what the dog meant by 'talk about it,' and he sighed softly, his heart sank and his ears drooped down. He could already smell what the dog had in mind. His scent was so strong, Oliver half wondered why there wasn't a huge wet spot on the canine's pants...
Perhaps it would be best to say a few things about Jim Walters, the "landlord".
Jim Walters owns a rather large apartment complex, and rules it with an iron fist. He didn't 'talk' about not being able to pay rent. There would be payment by whatever means he deemed appropriate. Oliver had only been living in this hell-hole for about a year, and he'd seen at least twenty residents pass through.
Oliver's 'boss' had set him up here, which meant that he was to stay here so long as he wanted work. Jim was well aware of that, and had raised Oliver's rent every month since he moved in. The landlord never hid his intentions. You don't offer to come in and discuss rent with a tenant with a raging hard-on and the full knowledge that your tenant is a call-boy.
He opened the window the rest of the way and let the dog in. He didn't waste any time, but simply dropped the sheet to the floor, braced himself against the closest wall, bent over and lifted his tail to avoid having to hear someone tell him to do it again. God that was annoying. The landlord smirked and quickly pulled his already-hard dick out of his pants. He walked over to the smaller male with his red shaft in his paw, pushed it up against Oliver's tail hole and then pushed right in and went straight to thrusting. Oliver winced slightly, his tail already sore from three large wolves he'd "serviced" just a few hours earlier, but he gritted through the pain. This would save him a few hundred dollars...and he needed to get money together. He wanted to leave this place, and at this point, he was willing to let just about anyone bend him over if it would bring him even an inch closer to getting out of this hellhole.
Oliver's gasps and whines only encouraged the canine. He'd been in the game for long enough that he was used to this sort of thing...but for some reason, the shock of entry, and that first few seconds of pain never went away. Oliver shut his eyes tight, a tear running down from his cheek. He was conflicted about accepting the offer. He'd said no plenty of times. It had been a quick decision, and the irony wasn't lost on Oliver.
After about twenty minutes of rough thrusting, the large dog was panting and pushing his swollen knot against Oliver's hole. The only problem with having a canine finish was the knot...If they're in a hurry, and they tie you in the heat of the moment, it could end up being very painful when they rip their knot out...and the German shepherd wasn't slowing down. He let out a loud howl as he thrust hard into the small panda's tail, tying him and firing his hot seed deep into him. To Oliver's disgust, the dog didn't simply rip out. To him, that was much worse than the pain.
"You're a dirty little boy..." The dog said into Oliver's ear, his hot breath tickling that nerve that makes your whole body shiver, which, somehow, managed to coax another shot out of the dog. Oliver hid the desire to scowl, and shrugged off the 'I just fucked you' talk. Some people did that because they liked to give some sort of half-assed praise. Other times it was because they wanted a boost to their self-esteem, and enforcing the fact that they just had complete control over someone does the trick. He was pretty sure this was the latter of the two.
"You know...I'll make you a deal. Be my bitch. Let me come and fuck you whenever I want, and I'll let you live here for free...utilities and all." This time, the dog gave a long lick up Oliver's neck, almost making him cringe. Oliver felt the hot tears swell up in his eyes. Instead of cringing, he faked a pleasured whimper.
"...I'll do it...." He said. It would take a trained ear to hear the defeat in his voice. The landlord didn't know the difference.
"Good bitch..." The landlord said, smirking. There was the self-esteem-oriented insult again. "If you're lucky, I might just bring a friend or two next time I visit..." He said, finally pulling his, mostly diminished, knot out of Oliver and letting the hot cum ooze out from underneath his tail. Despite the countless number of furs that had done this to him, the overwhelming shame still made him want to cry.
"I'll be back later." The landlord said, fastening his pants and climbing out the window.
Once the landlord was gone, Oliver looked down at his own member, which was rock hard and throbbing. He took it in his paw, and gave it a two good stokes and felt a rush of pleasure sweep over him as his own seed spilled out all over the floor beneath him. As he panted to catch his breath, the hot tears returned to his eyes. Even thinking that a thing like that dog could have possibly brought him to orgasm was almost enough for Oliver to slam his head into the wall. He held on a shred of pride knowing that the dog hadn't been able to push him over the edge...but then lost every bit of it when he realized even one more thrust would have done it. He sniffled, looking down at his stomach, which now felt slightly full, and then down at the trail of dog cum leaking down from his tail. He gritted his teeth at the thought of that dog's seed being inside of him.
His legs shook slightly as he walked back to the bathtub, which was now empty. He heaved a sigh and turned on the hot water, placing the stopper in the bottom of the tub once again. His slight rush of happiness from having finally gotten a nice, hot bath was pretty much wrecked. On the bright side, this new arrangement with his landlord would allow him a few luxuries that he'd never hoped to have before. As terrible as these apartments were, they weren't any cheaper. The cost of everything was going up, and so was his rent...every month, right up until he let the landlord in.
Oliver let himself sink down into the hot water once again, this time letting a paw wander down to his tail hole. It was sore from the amount of abuse he'd received throughout the day, but that didn't stop him from slipping a few digits of his paw into it. The feeling was nice, to his surprise. He'd not done this in a long time. He was surprised that he could enjoy something like this still. He ignored the protesting of his sore hole and added another digit and moved his paw slowly in and out.
Knowing that he'd just emptied himself, he sighed and pulled his paw back. There was no point to it...sure, he enjoyed it when he was willing...but when was he ever really willing? He let the hot water soothe his thoughts.
Once he'd finished washing himself for the second time, Oliver quickly dried his fur and walked back into the other room. He picked up the bed sheet that he'd dropped earlier and wrapped it around him once more. He was about to hop onto the sofa which doubled as his bed when he remembered that he hadn't locked the window. He cursed at himself under his breath and quickly locked it before lying down.
Oliver was exhausted and sore, and it didn't take long before he drifted off to sleep. Sleep was hardly a solace most nights; the nightmares were hardly worth it. Tonight, however, he dreamed of his parents...The life he'd missed so dearly. Sweet dreams were hard to come by, and he welcomed it.