FSE

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Option 1-

(The gritty sci-fi war story.) This is the intro to it, the rest of the story will be third person, focusing on Henry.

Private Henry Dillenger sat in the ankle deep mud, not caring about how dirty he was becoming. After two months in the trenches, mud was the least of his worries. His fur had taken on a new shade of brown that wasn't likely to come off even if he doused himself in boiling water.

He was an Akita, born and raised in the not so great state of Michigan in the year of 2144 to two middle class parents who had great dreams for him. His mother, a typical stay at home mom had always wanted to see her only son grow up into a handsome young man with, "enough money to send me to Hawaii each year." It was a joke that she would always tell him, but if he could, he would do just that. His father was a manager for a large shipping company that had built numerous docks on the shores of the Great Lakes. He didn't care what his son did as long as he didn't squander his life. Overall, his parents just wanted him to do his best and be successful and happy.

He was so close to achieving it as well. He had graduated high school and was working for his dad to get some money, he was planning on attending the state university to study electrical engineering. He had a few scholarships that would have covered most of the tuition, he just needed a few extra thousand dollars for spending money and books. Everything was going fine in Henry's life, even with the Second Civil War going on.

The United States was technically at war with the Moon, believe it or not. The entire lunar colony was in open revolt and had evicted all government officials in a violent military coup that left a lot of innocents dead. The United States had no choice but to react militarily to retake the valuable colony. Everyone thought it was going to be a short war, the United States had a massive fleet, a highly trained professional army and 650,000,000 people verus the Moon's mere 75,000,000 citizens and no navy. It should have been a short war that should have ended with the first invasion force, but like the first American Civil War, the rebels proved to be resilient and had forced the United States to scrub the invasion and pull back to lick it wounds.

The shocking defeat got the world's attention and international support for the colony. Soon, governments that had long opposed the United States, such as Russia and China began a proxy war by sending military advisors and supplies to the colony. This escalated the war quickly and soon the first draft cards were sent out.

It was a sunny August day and Henry was coming home with his father after a hard day's work. It should have been a normal day, just like any other. They had stopped to check the mail on the way home. It was there, the small yellow slip awaited him.

At first he wasn't sure what it was. It was in an envelope addressed to him and from the Selective Services. He brought it to his father and the look he got from him was haunting.

Now, nearly a year later, plea for exemption due to student status rejected, Henry was part of the 1st Infantry Division, The Big Red One as it was nicknamed and stuck in a trench awaiting reinforcements after the bloody second invasion. No matter how much he hated it, he was stuck on the Moon with only one way off: through victory or in a body bag.

Option 2-

(The love story. Be warned, I have little to no experience in writing love stories.)

"You look fine." *Hic* Ronald smiled sheepishly at me, barely able to stay up. The smile was downed out with another drink from his eighth glass of beer.

I wasn't as confident as him for two reasons. First, I wasn't blind drunk, just buzzed. Second, I was contemplating on asking a really hot chick if I could buy her a glass. She was, to my fuzzy mind, an angel. The poodle's fur was perfectly white despite the less than clean environment of the packed bar and every time she smiled, I melted a bit inside. I had been watching her ever since she came in three hours ago like some creep, then again, every guy had been watching her and slowly one by one each of us were being shot down.

She would smile and giggle and then stomp down on some horny dog's dreams. Didn't matter if the dog was some bruiser Rottweiler or an extremely athletic German Shepherd, they came with their ears perked and left with their tails tucked.

"I don't know. What if she just brushes me off?" I didn't know why I was trying to justify my timidness, I really wanted to try. The conflicting feelings were slowly tearing me apart.

"C'mon Brian." He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and slowly stretched his arm out and arced it across the bar. "Ugly horn dogs. Ugly horn dog idiots everywhere. You on the other hand are cute and a chick magnet." He burped suddenly after saying that and burst out laughing. No one cared, most of the people here were either too drunk or too consumed by the football game that you couldn't even here over all of the talking.

It was The Green Bay Packers vs. The San Diego Chargers and since we lived in San Diego, everyone flocked like a bunch of sheep to the nearest watering hole to watch. I wasn't a fan of football, but Ronald, being the great roommate he was, dragged me along to the local bar to watch the game even though he wouldn't remember it in the morning.

"Why don't you try?" It was a foolish ploy. Ronald was gay and even though he did admit that boobs were "quite lovely at times" he wouldn't be interested.

"I'm gaaaaay." He said it slowly and poked me in the chest. "Plus, like I said. No girl can resist your delectable Husky ass." He made a reach for it and I slapped it away. He was always like this, the higher his blood alcohol level was, the more he ended up hitting on me. It was a vicious cycle that ended up repeating every Sunday night, at home or at the bar.

"Fine, now stop reaching for me." He gave me a grin and retreated to the booth we had bravely defended form hordes of other patrons and watched ever so intently on me or my ass.

Now left alone and committed, I prepared myself. I went through the likely scenarios in my head. Unlike almost everyone else that had hit on her, I wasn't some horny, testosterone infused piece of meat that needed to be sated for the night; sex was on my mind, but that was merely a distant second objective. I counted that as a plus for me, though I could think of a hundred minuses. I was short for a Husky, just 5' 8" and not very built, lean and with enough muscle to just barely avoid looking like some starving puppy.

I watched the poodle, who was talking to a Pit bull that sported a Charger's jersey and a full set of bulging muscles with it. She smiled at him and he must have gotten the wrong signal because as soon as he spoke, a paw slapped him across his face, much to the amusement of me. He growled at her and said something before storming off and disappearing into the crowd.

With my quarry open, I made my move. I squeezed my way through the crowd and took the now vacant seat next to the poodle. My mind was racing for things to say.

"Hello." I blurted out before I could think. I mentally face palmed at the bland and boring greeting. Well, too late now, I would have to go with it and hope for the best.

Option 3-

This is here to remind you that these two options are not set in stone. Any suggestion will be considered, though I don't fancy writing yiff heavy stories.