FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"The year, 2030, almost two decades past the proposed apocalypse that would destroy the planet Earth. Despite the cries of divine intervention, on December 21, 2012, the predicted day of global destruction, no catastrophe had actually occurred, debunking yet again, another fake proclamation of society. News reporters simply stated it as the fallacy of human pessimism. Others, just paranoia. And although the possibility of impending doom still traumatized humanity, life continued to thrive, allowing the remaining whispers of Armageddon to fade into the darkness.

_ _

Or at least until they returned once more.

_ _

As time went by, however, humans began undergoing a strange metamorphosis. Men and women, while asleep, would develop spontaneous mutations in their DNA strands, altering the typical human genome to include other members of the Mammalia classification and several species within Reptilia. Similar to the sudden disarrangement of their DNA, their body underwent a rapid change in form as well. Waking up to see fur, fangs, scales, or claws, these new 'anthropomorphs' or 'anthros' for short, reacted in horror. Although their mental capabilities hadn't changed as much (to many researchers' disappointment), the new anthros found themselves stumbling out of bed as they tried to adapt to their current physique. Society turned in upon itself as neighbor fought against neighbor, while the DNA mutations slowly began to affect younger and younger humans.

_ _

A rapid diffusion of chaos then plagued the world, and screams of the Apocalypse rang out once more.

_ _

Yet, as a surprise to many historians and scientists, almost as quickly as these new changes developed, the panic settled down just as fast. Speculation arose as to how the terror that should have stricken the globe had calmed down so quickly. The 'delayed catastrophe' should have sent the world into a shock, but on the contrary, it was like a passing fad. A variety of rumors included conspiracies involving government interference and alien involvement. Several other conjectures suggested the transformation as an act of heavenly determination, that the time of repentance was drawing closer. Despite the reason, the anthropomorphic beings that erupted in large numbers were treated fairly, for the most part, and did not find the need to struggle for equality.

_ _

Still, there was the slight discomfort involved in living with foreign appearances; that much was unavoidable. But these "humans-turned-animals" managed to continue their everyday lives, as long as the average human, and continued to suffer as victims of capitalistic venues.

_ _

When the year, 2044, arrived, with the advent of new technology, a new outbreak in science had occurred.

_ _

Scientists began furthering their already boundless curiosity. The world was already losing interest in dogs, cats, and snakes, as 'domestic pets were bxecoming increasingly dull.' Much of this had been due to the enlightenment movement that deemed these animals worthy of receiving the same rights as anthros or humans. Thus, the desire for a different kind of pet was created.

_ _

Dr. Micro Alexen, a top biomedical engineer with years of experience in genetic manipulation, resolved to find a solution to this problem and initiated the first research and experimentation into the project. After multiple experiments and equal amount of failures with animals, scientists quit, and the project was terminated.

_ _

Three years later, a spark was reignited in the imaginative minds of Earth's scientists, and the campaign was reopened. Dr. Alexen's passion was renewed and only a month had passed by before geneticists found their answer: miniature beings, termed 'micros,' after the developer himself.

_ _

Altered at birth, these 'micros' were similar to the anthropomorphs that encircled the globe, but tinier in size, about the height of the common cell phone. They were enabled speech, had comparable mental capacity to a human, and programmed to be inherently submissive. The idea quickly diffused, and micros became a ubiquitous commodity.

_ _

Naturally, humans and anthros, alike, took advantage of these micros, turned into alternative sources of labor and figures to satisfy perverted fantasies. Riots broke out for legal rights to be applied to these smaller creatures, but only days had passed before the pandemonium had quieted down.

_ _

Then those, who had previously fought for democracy to include this race of miniature anthropomorphs, had become like the people they protested against. The plague of cruelty had infected the greatest depths of society, manifesting in the treatment of these creatures like the dirt that they walked on.

_ _

On the contrary, micros were unaware of the torture they were supposedly enduring. As long as their masters were happy, they were 'happy.'

_ _

Rather than serving the lesser in the master and pet relationship, micros had been given another purpose: to serve as slaves."

_ _

_ _

-Excerpt from A Biographical Account of Micro Development by Dr. Ralik Drescher

***

"You idiot..." the cat hissed, face reddening, while his whiskers bristled in anger.

"M-Master, I--" a young wolf micro started, his body shaking in fear.

But the feline interrupted him, roaring angrily at the pitiful creature quivering on his carpet floor. "You were supposed to fetch me water, not juice! You're so damn useless!"

His miniscule pet yelped as his master tugged on his chain.

"I-I'm sorry M-Master. I d-didn't mean to..." Fenrir cowered behind his paws, afraid to look at his owner's furious facial expression. "I m-must have forgotten!"

The wolf didn't really mean that, but his master was always frustrated with him. He was sure the cat had asked for juice, not water. But the wolf was too frightened to say otherwise.

"Excuses. That's all I ever hear from you." The cat tapped on his foot impatiently, tail swishing back and forth. "You worthless piece of crap," he growled. "I never should have got you. No wonder nobody wanted you in the first place."

Fenrir's ears folded back with shame. It was true, after all.

Back at the Machine, Fenrir was one of the thousands who were offered up for sale at barely two months old. Despite being tremendously smaller in stature, micros developed in the same manner as normal furs and humans, meaning a similar caretaking through infancy was required before the full capacities of a micro could be utilized. However, it is through these raising 'rituals' that allowed the selected micro to bond fully with the owner.

Typically, a micro was purchased within five months of its birth. Afterwards... Well, there was no need to consider that. Demand was so incredibly high that scientists worried more about an insufficient supply than they did about the detrimental effects of a postponed master-pet bond.

However, Fenrir was unlike normal micros. It wouldn't be until two years after his birth that someone would elect to purchase the tiny wolf. He was fortunate, or unfortunate, depending on what mood he was in, that the Cavalieri family had a strict budget that fateful day by the downtown service center.

All the other micros surpassed their measly budget of several hundred dollars. After all, with the increased demand for the resized anthros, the new commodity could reach up to thousands or millions of dollars per purchase. When Mr. Cavalieri asked for a suitable substitute within his price range, the manager by the counter quickly indicated to the tiny wolf in his barred cage.

The mature cat nodded, offering a skeptical look to the cheetah in charge. A catch, right? There was always a catch... And to Mr. Cavalieri's suspicions, he was right to have them.

Ever since Fenrir was born, different to his normal counterparts, not once did the wolf ever cry. Instead, he had an eerily quiet expression that repelled potential buyers. It was then that the scientists in the Machine deemed Fenrir as a "defect."

Now, though, Fenrir wished he was back at the Machine those thirteen years ago. At least then, he wouldn't have to cry so much. As though to make up for his tearless infancy, the wolf cried so often, so frequently, that his eyes would always have a hint of red in them. Not out of anger, but of a never lasting sadness, one that started once he realized that no one, not even his current owners, wanted him.

He was truly alone.

And that thought almost brought the wolf bawling in front of his master again.

Seeing the tears brimming in his pet's eyes made Fredrick snort in disgust. Turning to face his computer screen, the cat waved the wolf away, sighing loudly.

"Just make yourself useful and get me my shoes. If I'm late for school..." the cat smirked. "Well, let's just not let that happen, shall we?"

Nodding his head rapidly, the wolf hurried out of the bedroom without another word.

Not as though anything he said would have helped, anyway.

For Fenrir, life had always been this way. Master Fredrick would be upset with him for the simplest of matters, such as tripping over the cat's clothing that were scattered like landmines all over the room. Sure, everyone, even other micros, said that Fenrir was "always a rebel." But the wolf didn't feel any different. He didn't know what clumsiness had anything to do with revolting against the macros anyway.

Several times, Fenrir would ask the others to describe him. He got similar responses, give or take a few details. Or a lot, given if the fur was feeling lazy at the moment. The wolf arrived at a general consensus:

A black-furred lupine, with yellow eyes and a scar down the left side of his muzzle (from his last encounter with Fredrick's anger).

An average appearance for an apparently different micro.

The scar wasn't a defining point either. Fenrir had seen plenty of wolves with scars from their masters, some worse than others, proving, that physically, he was just like the rest. Sure, he had a slightly larger than average build for his kind. But even that was just by a barely noticeable amount.

It couldn't be his clothes either. That possibility was actually the first to be thrown out. According to federal ordinance, micros were required to wear government-approved clothing whenever out in public. And by "government-approved," they simply meant that anything but bland, blue jumpers were not allowed. If owners did not comply with the law, they were charged a hefty fee, an unreasonable expense that easily leaped into the tens of thousands.

Clothing couldn't be a matter.

So then what gave others the right to talk about him like that?

"What the hell is taking you so long, Fenrir?!"

His thoughts were interrupted by a bellow from Master Fredrick's room.

Whimpering softly, the micro snatched up the muddy shoes by the kitchen floor, and rushed back into Fredrick's room, while dragging the musky, dirt-encrusted footwear to his master.

When he arrived in front of Fredrick, Fenrir dutifully placed the shoes in front of the cat's feet and bowed apologetically.

"Sorry master, I got distracted," the wolf said, his ears falling back in shame. "P-Please don't get mad with..." he gulped. "W-With me..."

The cat rolled his eyes, a visible grin on his muzzle. Fredrick always seemed to have some cruel joke to play on his servant.

"Oh, don't worry," he said, with a strangely casual voice. "I'm not mad, pet." He bent down, arching his back, as he pulled on his white tennis shoes.

"You're not?"

Fredrick smiled. "Oh, of course not." Fenrir watched as his master slipped something into his pocket. "But you're not getting off the hook that easy." Wagging his finger at the wolf, the cat swished his tail excitedly. "No, I've thought of something even better. Just wait until we get back from school." Fredrick smirked. "I have something planned just for you."

Fenrir whimpered.

He couldn't be thinking of... He couldn't. Could he?

Reaching behind and unzipping his backpack, Fredrick gestured to the wolf to get in the bag. Fenrir sighed, clearly not anticipating his punishment, but climbed into the bag anyway.

Fredrick's schoolbag, or "The Backpack of Hell" that Fenrir liked to call it, was always cramped, stuffy, and extremely hot. It didn't help that his master kept adding items into the bag's pockets. Portable compasses, sharpened pencils, metal scissors--He couldn't help but wonder if Fredrick got off to the thought of impaling his pet with school instruments.

Wedging himself between the books and interior of the bag (and notably placing a large distance between him and the various sharp objects in Fredrick's backpack), Fenrir crouched down into a fetal position and buried his muzzle in his arms. To him, if being at home with Fredrick was torture, then going to school with him was euthanasia without the anesthetics.

Breathing heavily, the wolf clutched the fabric of the bag as he felt himself being lifted into the air. Even if he was inside the bag, Fenrir could still feel the force of gravity pushing down on him. His stomach heaved, and Fenrir could feel himself quickly getting nauseous.

"Goddammit..." he whimpered. Motion sickness.

Fenrir willed his head onto the backpack floor, trying to ease the pain in his stomach. But god, every jerk of the bag made the wolf want to regurgitate his morning's breakfast.

Sure, he was a disgrace to micros, or just wolves in general; but he couldn't help it. Being in Fredrick's bag always made him sick.

The constant bouncing of the leather floor, the rough pounding of his head, the swishing movements in the air... They all took turns torturing the micro, making his insides turn in agony.

"Goodbye, Mother!" Fredrick called out, facing the feline still cooking in the kitchen.

His mother smiled at him before turning back to the boiling pot on the stove. "Goodbye, my son."

And before Fredrick's mother could hand him his lunch, the cat was already halfway out the door.

"Talk, and you're dead. Got it?"

Fenrir nodded, even though he knew Fredrick couldn't see him. "Yes, Master."

"Good mutt."

And before Fenrir could respond, the backpack immediately jutted to the right, cutting the wolf mid-sentence. He yelped as he was pulled in the opposite direction, striking his head against the cat's Algebra book. He heard the Fredrick snicker and continue his tedious walk to school.

"Heh. Sorry."

But the wolf didn't hear him. Fenrir rubbed his head in pain, turning his muzzle away. He didn't know where. He didn't know why he even turned away. Everywhere he looked, it was the same thing.

Fenir was trapped. Trapped in this bag. Trapped in this life.

He could pretend that he wasn't practically blind. That he wasn't suffocating in a cramped, dark backpack with a terrible master. But what use would that make? What he would do to even imagine life without Fredrick, life as a macro, or even a life where he was normal. He tried to hold back the tears that threatened to flow from his eyes. But no, he couldn't. Different as he may be, he couldn't picture himself without Fredrick.

It should have been so easy. With the way that Fredrick treated him, if given the chance, Fenrir should have left him without another thought. It only made logical sense, right?

But he couldn't. He didn't know why--why he felt the need to stay with Satan's incarnate, why his mind refused to imagine a world without his master--and in the end, it just confused and depressed him further.

"Damn him..." Fenrir whispered softly. "Damn him to hell..."

_ _

And those words brought enough satisfaction to last the bumpy ride to Fredrick's high school.

_ _

By the time they got to homeroom class, Fenrir's master was late. He knew the cat did it on purpose, to justify the punishment he would be giving much later. But a sense of hopelessness, rather than anger, arose and Fenrir blinked back the tears building up.

Dropping his backpack on the floor, Fredrick chuckled darkly, knowing that his pet was still suffocating in the small space. A small yelp echoed in the air, but the cat just shrugged. He high-fived a nearby fox when the vulpine purposely kicked the duffel bag that contained his micro. However, instead of a pained yelp like Fenrir's, the fox's micro just laughed.

Why was he laughing? How did he find this funny at all?

_ _

"Okay, students. Class will begin soon."

Fenrir heard his master's teacher start roll call, each respective student standing up to his or her name as the female cheetah read off her list.

"Fred."

"Kevin."

"Thomas."

"Ralik."

The names continued on. Once everyone had been accounted for, with the exception of one or two students due to illness, the teacher spoke again.

"All micros in attendance please stand in the middle aisle for a number count."

Hearing the order, Fenrir dutifully climbed out of his master's bag, gripping the loose inner vinyl lining with his paws as he made his way upward. He pushed his way against the force of gravity, arms burning as he reached out to boost himself forward. When he, at last, poked his nose out of the bag, Fenrir took a large sniff of fresh air and slid his way down onto the tile floor. He almost forgot how terrible it smelled inside Fredrick's backpack.

Looking around quickly, he noticed with slight amusement that the others were still struggling to get out of their owners' bags. The wolf giggled softly to himself. "First, again." Turning his head upward, Fenrir's good mood faded as soon as it appeared. That's just the way it was. His master was looking at him with a deep scowl, an irritated glare in his eyes, and Fenrir felt a sense of dread creep down his spine. The wolf slid his tail between his legs, gaze shifting towards the ground.

He was going to get punished again, wasn't he? And he didn't even know what he did this time. But this was normal for Fredrick. He didn't need an excuse. The macros never needed an excuse. And yet...

I'm the only who cares.

As soon as the others joined him on the white, reflective tile ground, the micros started organizing themselves alphabetically by last name. Fenrir took his spot between Sergio, a shy German shepherd, and a petite lioness that everyone referred to as Merciless Maria.

"Oh darn, I messed up my papers. Please wait for a moment."

Fenrir decided to turn away from the cheetah fumbling with her folders to look around him, specifically his line partners.

Maria was... interesting to say the least. She had the stereotypical lioness look--a lithe figure that went along with her glowing green eyes. Personality-wise though, Maria reminded Fenrir of those "tattle-tales" that the wolf saw in a movie once. Everyone avoided her like the plague. Despite what her name suggests, Maria would rather rip out her own heart before hurting another person. Ironically, however, she was also the first person to notice something wrong and report it as soon as possible. She probably hasn't made the connection that by doing that, she's causing suffering for everyone else.

And as masochistic as the other micros were, punishment for actually doing something wrong was a lot worse than that for unspecified reasons. No one particularly enjoyed it, and Fenrir sure as hell didn't. He couldn't understand her, not at all. Let alone the other micros.

Sergio, on the other hand...

The German shepherd was just different.

He had a soft, boyish look to him despite the two of them being the same age. A light-creamy brown surrounded his black muzzle and highlighted his thoughtful, brilliant sapphire eyes. The fur transcended into a darker shade, a smooth chocolate color that bordered his young face and eventually an ebony black. Fenrir never saw Sergio outside of the hideous blue jumpsuit, but he could probably guess that the patch of black fur behind his neck probably extended further across his back.

In other words, Sergio looked like a younger version of the average teenage sheppie. Yet, all the other dogs that Fenrir had met definitely didn't act the way Sergio did. And it was incredibly obvious why.

"Hey, Fen."

Fenrir chuckled at the sheppie's nickname for him. "Hey, Sergio."

Sergio offered him a soft smile, the dog's head turning back slightly to show him a warm expression on his face, before facing forward once more. Fenrir didn't miss the hint of red on Sergio's cheeks.

The wolf grinned. Oh, Sergio.

He didn't have to look to know that Sergio was probably blushing harder now. The sheppie was easily embarrassed, always afraid that he might have smiled at the wrong moment or laughed a bit too late after a joke was told. He even had a nervous habit of twiddling his thumbs. Fenrir didn't need to look if he was doing that either. He probably was.

"Sergio," Fenrir said, bending closer to the sheppie's folded ears, "you're blushing again."

Sergio whined. "N-No, I'm not."

Fenrir smiled. "You sure?"

"I'm not," Sergio said, a bit more forcefully this time.

"If you say so," Fenrir shrugged, hiding a smirk. The wolf knew he was teasing the poor guy, but he couldn't help it. Fenrir would take any excuse to say the sheppie's name in front of him.

Sergio.

_ _

Could you blame him? It just rolled off his tongue, from the slick "s" sound to the Spanish "g." Fenrir never understood why his German parents would have given their son a Spanish name before he was taken, and Sergio didn't know either. But the canine didn't mind. Sergio liked his name, and Fenrir happened to like it too.

"Um... Fen?"

Sergio was fully facing him now, a bashful look on his face. "I think my glasses are dirty again."

Across the bridge of his muzzle, the sheppie wore these thin-framed glasses, some generic brand, that occasionally slid off his face and onto the floor. It didn't help that he was practically blind without them on. All the other macros (and even the micros) would laugh at him, watching as the dog continued to search for his glasses on the floor. While Fenrir never actually laughed at him, he would always smile and watch. Not out of spite, however. Far from it.

Because to be honest, Fenrir always thought Sergio looked cute. With or without the glasses. Maybe it was his general innocence. Or the fact that the sheppie was one of Fenrir's closest friends. Either way, it made the wolf a bit guilty to take pleasure in the few moments where Sergio would lose his glasses. Like a furtive voyeur, he would try to hide the light giddiness in his stomach that would arrive from seeing the adorable little German shepherd.

And it so happened that today would happen to be one of those days again.

Sergio, still blushing, slid his glasses off and handed them to Fenrir. "Could you... you know?"

The wolf smiled. "Of course."

Taking the glasses from Sergio's paw, Fenrir brought the lenses close to his lip and breathed softly on the translucent glass, a layer of mist forming on the surface. As he did so, he never broke eye contact with the canine. Fenrir knew that Sergio wouldn't know that the wolf was looking at him, studying him like a book.

Again, like all the other times, Fenrir's chest filled with a fuzzy sensation, almost numbing in a sense. And the wolf enjoyed it.

It made going to school with Fredrick so much worth it.

However, now, Fenrir didn't know whether he preferred Sergio with or without glasses. Like this, Fenrir could get a perfect view of the sheppie's face and his captivating blue eyes. But when he had them on...

Wiping the lenses with his jumpsuit, Fenrir outstretched his paw to return to Sergio his glasses.

"Thanks," he said, grinning, before reaching to take them from him.

At the last second though, Fenrir changed his mind and snatched them away from him.

"Wait a second, pup."

Sergio tilted his head in confusion. "Fen, you know I can't see..."

Fenrir chuckled. "Yeah, I do. Just let me try something, alright?"

He knew that the other micros were probably staring at the two of them right now, but he could care less. Fenrir didn't want to pass this chance up, and no one, not even his master, would interrupt him.

As careful as possible, he unhinged the glasses with both paws and looked back up to Sergio's face. Fenrir nearly laughed as the sheppie tried squinting to see what the wolf had planned for him.

"Hold still." And before Sergio could ask, Fenrir slipped the chrome frames onto the sheppie's broad muzzle, the wolf pushing them until the fit snuggly against the dog's face. In a smooth transition, Fenrir slid the back of his paw against Sergio's cheek affectionately.

"F-Fen...?"

"There..." Fenrir grinned. Sergio still had a shocked, open-eyed expression, but the wolf couldn't miss the wagging tail that swung excitedly between the sheppie's legs. Placing a paw beneath his muzzle, Fenrir examined Sergio's face, as if noting something with great detail. "Like I thought," he murmured. "Much better."

Sergio turned his head to the side, shuffling his feet nervously on the ground. "Better?"

This time it was Fenrir's turn to blush. "I was just thinking," he said, pausing to scratch the back of his head in embarrassment, "that you look much better with your glasses on."

"Really?" the dog whispered.

Fenrir laughed. "Of course, Serg. So you better keep them on, you hear?"

Sergio nodded happily. "O-Okay."

Afterwards, the two shared a brief smile, before Sergio turned to meet his master's gaze. The tiger winked at him and made an urging gesture with his paws. Fenrir found the motion confusing, but Sergio seemed to understand, his eyes turning downward as he flushed a dark pink.

Ralik was peculiar for a macro. At least there, Fenrir and Fredrick could finally agree on something.

The tiger was surprisingly lonely throughout the day, his only company being Sergio while he strolled the hallways with his curious grey eyes. Ralik had friends--Fenrir was sure of that--but the tiger had probably not spoken with them for more than five minutes.

No, Ralik wasn't the quiet type either. Fenrir knew he could talk endlessly for hours, only briefly stopping to make sure his listeners weren't feeling bored or neglected. Ralik always had something to say, something on his mind. But he kept it to himself.

At least for the other macros.

Fenrir never knew another macro that could be as compassionate or as kindhearted as Ralik. His eyes, although usually bright with happiness, would occasionally slip into moments of pity and melancholy. And Fenrir always had to wonder what the tiger was thinking.

It must be hard to pity a race that doesn't notice--that the world isn't as simple as pleasing a single person. Or even a select group. That life is so much more beautiful than that--and for that, I feel sorry for him.

_ _

Ralik was always spending his afterschool hours bandaging the injured micros, and although they thanked him, they didn't really mean it. Healing a masochist, how ironic. It only seemed to deepen the sadness visible in the tiger's eyes. But Fenrir really was grateful towards him, and the slight smile that would form on the feline's face when Fenrir waved at him only confirmed that Ralik reciprocated the feeling.

He doesn't have to feel sad anymore. Ralik has Sergio... and me, as well.

_ _

During the frequent lunches where Fredrick would let Fenrir run off on his own, he would always eat with those two, those wonderful friends of his. And just being in their company for that short while would be worth the pointless punishment that Fredrick would make afterwards.

Fredrick didn't like Ralik--not many people did--but Fenrir could give a damn. Like Sergio, Ralik always had the ability to make him grin without reason. And despite being Ralik's pet, Sergio didn't act like a pet to him, just like how Ralik did not act like a master towards the sheppie. They were friends, brothers almost. At the very least the two shared the same bed at night.

Fenrir couldn't help feeling a little bit envious of his best friend. Screw it, he was jealous. But he couldn't get angry with him. Sergio was just too cute.

As if to make sure, Fenrir turned to the German shepherd once again. Their eyes met, but quickly as their gazes converged, Sergio averted his face shyly.

_ _

... And there was that blush again.

_ _

"You never cease to surprise me, Serg." Fenrir grinned brightly.

"What do you mean by that?" he whined. His lips folded into a childish pout that Fenrir found adorable and endearing.

"Your cheeks are red all the time," the wolf micro said with a smirk. "I wonder if your blood can even flow anywhere else."

Sergio grumbled. "You're such a meanie." He looked upset, but it sure as hell was just an act. Sergio was terrible at acting, but Fenrir found it funny that the sheppie still tried.

And really? Meanie? How cute.

"Sorry pup," Fenrir teased, patting him on the shoulder. Sergio flinched, shivering a bit when Fenrir's fingertips met the dog's fur. That was strange. "Are you okay, Serg?"

"H-Huh? Of course I am," Sergio mumbled.

His master made another gesture again, but now with a somewhat annoyed look in his eye. He didn't seem pissed off, but more like irritated-happy, kind of like the feeling Fenrir got when Sergio refused to change into his swimming shorts in front of the other micros. It frustrated Fenrir that Sergio was never comfortable about himself, but just like how Fredrick seemed set on torturing him everyday of his life, Sergio never changed. And Fenrir appreciated that.

Still, as they were waiting in line for the teacher to give out the assignments for that day to the micros, Fenrir knew that there was something on Sergio's mind.

Maybe that's why Ralik looks like he's having a seizure in his chair?

_ _

Sergio was never one to speak his mind unless it was necessary, so Fenrir made a habit of wrenching the thoughts from the sheppie's lips. And it seemed that this was going to be another case of having to use it.

Damn though. How long did it take to organize papers on a desk? Was the teacher that incompetent?

All the better for him.

"Sergio, I think your master is trying to get your attention."

The German shepherd growled. "I know..."

"He seems irritated," Fenrir said, simply stating a fact.

"What a coincidence," Sergio grumbled. "So am I."

"Oh, uh, sorry?"

Sergio just mumbled an incoherent response.

_ _

Did I say something wrong? I didn't think so. Sergio wasn't upset before...

_ _

He may have confidence issues, but Sergio was like a Plexiglas display. Almost nothing got to him, but anyone could still see that inside, he was still so fragile.

So delicate.

_ _

Fenrir teased him all the time, but Sergio knew that it was all out of pure fun. The two had known each other since they were young. Not once in those seven years had Sergio ever acted this enraged...

_ _

And Fenrir felt hurt that Sergio seemed to be directing his anger towards him.

"What's up?"

The German shepherd tilted his head. "Um, the ceiling?"

Fenrir groaned. "No, you idiot. I meant what's wrong?" He flicked Sergio on the nose. "You said you were upset, didn't you?"

Sergio looked surprised. "Oh. I guess I did." The anger seemed to evaporate instantly.

"So what're you upset about?" Fenrir asked, folding his arms across his chest and tapping his foot against the floor. He noticed that Ralik was giving Sergio the look again.

As if pinned against the wall, Sergio seemed panicked. All the irritation before was replaced with a sudden desire to disappear. For some reason, Fenrir thought that this suited Sergio a lot more, but the wolf micro didn't dare say that aloud. Sergio sent a pleading, desperate glance at his master, but Ralik just shrugged, smirking all the while. Fenrir guessed that maybe this really did have something to do with him after all. Realizing that he was still being expected an answer, Sergio slumped his shoulders in defeat.

"W-Well," he stuttered. "Ralik wanted to know if you would like to come over today."

Fenrir's muzzle dropped in shock. He turned to Ralik, who just gave him a surreptitious wink before facing the board and back to the teacher who finally finished fixing her papers.

"Okay, micros. When I call your name, you will receive your master's daily assignments. Remember, they must be completed by tomorrow. Understood?"

All the micros, including Fenrir, responded in the affirmative. Soon after, the cheetah began calling names.

Fenrir whispered to the sheppie slowly, placing a paw to Sergio's ear. "But my master would never agree to that."

Sergio didn't say anything, moving forward along with the line. Fenrir thought he was ignoring him on purpose and made to say so, before Sergio turned his head slightly to look at him. "Ralik says that he'll talk to Fredrick for you. Apparently Ralik has an offer that Fredrick can't refuse. Something about homework and grades, I think."

Fenrir nodded. It was no surprise to anyone that Fredrick was failing the class, which was an accomplishment itself. The cheetah made it nearly impossible to fail, offering mountains of opportunities for extra credit. Fenrir knew it wasn't his fault either. He always completed his master's homework and perfected them too.

No, it was Fredrick's laziness that caused him to fail, which translated to more punishment.

What will it be next? Drowning him in the bathtub? Singing his fur with a lighter? Hanging him from the ceiling fan?

_ _

In contrast, Ralik was in the upper tier of the students when it came to grades. He wasn't the smartest, but no one could call him stupid without getting an are-you-out-of-your-mind stare from everyone else. If Ralik was sure it'd work, then it probably would. And if it did work, Fenrir would never have been so happy in his life.

But something still didn't make sense.

"That doesn't explain why you were angry though."

Fenrir heard Sergio mumble a quick curse beneath his breath. "A-About that..." He flushed, biting his lip nervously. "Ralik also wanted to know if you would like to have dinner," Sergio paused, fiddling with paw pads shyly. "W-With me."

Fenrir shrugged. "Don't I always eat with you guys?"

Sergio shook his head. "Ay Dios, why does this have to be so hard?" He covered his face with his paws. "N-Not like that. He means just the two of us." Fenrir still looked confused.

"Alright, then?"

Sergio growled. "Goddammit, Fen. Ralik wants you and me to go out for dinner."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the sheppie gasped and faced the front once more, his head bending down as if to make himself smaller and less visible.

"Sergio Drescher."

Before Fenrir could say anything, Sergio rushed up to the teacher, received his work, and sprinted toward his master as fast as his embarrassment-powered feet could carry him. Ralik was just chuckling the entire time, but at least his irritation had vanished. Even from across the room, Fenrir could hear Ralik praising Sergio. "I'm proud of you," Ralik said. Sergio whined in response, burying his muzzle in his master's black polo shirt while his master caressed his back affectionately.

Fenrir mused that Sergio must still be in a panic mode after that moment.

"Fenrir Cavalieri."

Walking slowly towards the teacher, he grabbed a sheet from the pile of papers that she had set in front of her desk on the floor. Fenrir smiled happily that today was Algebra day, meaning easy homework and best of all that Fredrick would be asleep. Or at the very most, he would deeper in sleep than usual. Fenrir would be able to sneak off to talk with the other micros.

Or just one micro in particular.

Sergio never did get Fenrir's response after all. The wolf couldn't help but wonder what dinner with the German shepherd would be like. Fenrir wasn't going to bring his hopes up though; for all he knew, dinner would be just like any normal lunch day. But he highly doubted it.

Sergio was like a live wire, one-hundred percent nerves. Something was bound to go wrong.

But the good kind of wrong. Definitely the good kind.

As he walked back towards Fredrick, Fenrir noticed Ralik grinning at him widely, still comforting the mortified Sergio on his lap.

Oh, Sergio.

_ _

Fenrir giggled. "Déjà vu."

_ _

The wolf kept fantasizing about the sheppie as he walked back to his spot beside Fredrick, and not even the cat's frosty glares at him were enough to break his mood.

Dinner with Sergio?

Hell yeah.