Jerry had always known that his actions in life had consequences. In fact, the fennec fox rather counted on that fact in his day to day business. He needed his actions to have an impact. His words to change the course of peoples' days. His choices to change lives. Not always to their benefit of course, but always to his. Yes, every action had a consequence. But so long as the consequences were what Jerry wanted, that was absolutely fine by him.
It was difficult to let go of that ruthless boardroom mentality which came from running a company, even when beyond the office. The fennec had long since given up trying to craft himself a likeable, friendly persona for the public to admire. He was no Mark Zuckerberg or pioneer of the Google type office, where every employee was encouraged to work on their own projects as well as their assigned duties. If anything, Jerry saw himself as more of a young Donald Trump. Though with far nicer and natural hair, and... well, a degree of social competence, at the very least. There were times however, when simply following along with the tedium of societies whims wore on the fennec. Indeed there was no better example of this than that which could be found while at that most mundane of locales, the grocery store.
Every Saturday morning, Jerry had his driver take him out to the local supermarket. There he would buy his own food and drink for the week to come; a fact he took a strange pride in, like a deer stalker hunting and butchering his own dinner. He would smile and nod at the few individuals who recognised him from the business section of whichever newspaper or magazine had been featuring him that particular month, and endure the slow shelf-grazing masses who so frequently got in his way with their shopping carts and mobility scooters. He'd comb the store from end to end, once following his list exactly, then a second time searching through the special offers and reductions for any last minute bargains. Methodical, but efficient too.
Only then, with his basket of goods tucked under one arm, would Jerry face the biggest challenge to his sanity of all. The checkout queues.
Some weeks he was lucky, and the queues were short or non-existent. But this week... this day in particular, fortune was not on Jerry's side. It was the middle of summer vacation, and the grocery store was jam packed with families. Weary mothers with large broods of screeching youngsters. Obese parents with obese children waddling together three abreast, daring anyone who sought to get past them to even suggest that perhaps they were taking up more than their allotted share of space. Elderly couples doddering alone with a resentful teenager in tow, parents doubtlessly off on some romantic second honeymoon or dalliance with their respective affairs of choice.
Dealing with all these frustratingly loud and obnoxiously visible clumps of society's supposed heart and soul had already pushed Jerry's patience to the limit. Thus as he finally squeezed his way out of the last of the aisles in his second pass, the fennec fox could not hold back an audible snarl of frustration as he saw the throng of figures queuing at the checkouts. Each of the manned checkout stations had at least six customers standing in line, most of them with shopping carts at least half full of groceries as well as seasonable specials like barbecue coals, meats and all associated condiments and sides. There were at least twice as many lined up by the self service checkouts, and worst of all, more than ten customers standing before the 'express' lane, many of them clutching baskets or even carts laden with far more than the requisite fifteen items or less.
Scowling darkly, Jerry glanced down at his basket and did a quick count. Twelve. Thirteen... fourteen. He grinned, eyes twinkling and his large ears twitching with delight.
The fennec fox approached the express checkout, and in his most gentle, polite voice asked for a few of those lined up to excuse him and move out of his way. Of course, alongside the expected conventions of society, they did so, allowing Jerry to step forward right at the end of the checkout conveyor belt and pluck a packet of gum from the attached shelving. He dropped it gently into his basket, looked back at those who had retreated slightly to allow him access with a faked smile of gratitude, and promptly turned to face forward... suddenly more than seven spots further forward in the line than would have been the case if he had simply stepped into the queue from the rear.
Nothing. Nothing but some mutters and some distinct tutting.
The fennec fox grinned. Cowards. Fucking spineless losers. He had suspected as much when analysing the queue, and he had been right. There wasn't a single person amongst those in front of whom he had cut who had the courage or common sensibility to stand up to him.
Before long Jerry was free and clear. Not just from his line-cutting escapade, but from all the horrors which lay within the store. His groceries paid for and his lithe form walking briskly towards the store's sliding front doors with a brown bag tucked under each arm.
Just as the fennec found himself pausing in front of the doors however, waiting the millisecond or so it took for them to acknowledge his presence and slide open, he felt something which horrified and disgusted him. A hand. A hand brushing against the back of his neck, above the collar of his shirt.
The fennec fox's ears twitched, and he heard a venomous whisper accompanying that tender yet oh so invasive touch.
Spinning around on the spot, Jerry expected to see one of the idiots in front of whom he had positioned himself within the checkout queue. His expression wasn't so much one of anger as it was confused hatred, despising the idea that he had been manhandled by some random scrub, but amused and quite frankly rather stunned by their incompetence. To be punched in the face or shoved violently and threateningly would have been far less acceptable an outcome, sure, but it would at least have made sense in context to what Jerry had done. Instead he had been touched, just touched, and had an insult directed at him which seemed to have no context to... to anything, as far as the fennec could tell.
The biggest surprise however wasn't the manner of the retaliation, but the individual who had delivered it. Or rather, the lack of one.
There was no-one standing behind Jerry. At least, not in any degree of proximity that could have come close to touching him and whispering to him, then pulling back to such a distance as to make themselves inconspicuous. Indeed most of the people in front of which Jerry had been standing in the queue were still at the checkout, many of them openly scowling at him as he regarded them with a remorselessly sour expression.
For just a second or so longer the fennec considered his options; eyeing up those closest to him and trying desperately to conceive of some way that they could have assaulted him and gotten back to their business in the split-second it had taken him to turn around. When no such situation made itself clear however, Jerry decided to cut his losses and simply return to his business as though nothing had happened. After all, nothing had happened. Nothing of consequence, anyway. He had been judged by people he did not care about, and would never again share any sort of meaningful interaction. To dwell on it, or any aspect of this less than ideal shopping trip, would have been an even greater waste of Jerry's valuable time.
Thus the fennec made his exit, returning to his car and his driver and his familiar, far more luxurious life. He closed the car door behind himself, immediately blacking out the glass between himself and the driver with a flick of a switch in the central arm-rest. With a soft growl, Jerry settled back into the leather interior and relaxed. Not bothering with his seatbelt, he crossed one leg over the other and leaned gently forward, pulling off first one shoe, then swapping legs and removing the other. He stretched out, and glanced through the tinted window at the world beyond as it began to speed by.
Jerry remained in more or less that same position throughout the car journey home, allowing himself a degree of relaxation more than he would under normal circumstances and peeling off his socks, casting them aside along with his shoes. He idly flexed and curled his toes as the car carried him towards home, letting his mind wander and his gaze drift back and forth between the window and his own twitching, sandy furred bare feet. A couple of times as he looked at his own lower limbs, he thought back to what that voice in the store had said. It made him smirk, not the usual dry, cruel smile that so often fell over his face, but a genuinely amused smile. Of all the insults, of all the rude things that could have been said to him. Why that? Why pawslut? It made no sense.
Still grinning to himself, the fennec glanced down at his feet once more, wiggling his toes playfully at himself and letting slip an entirely uncharacteristic giggle at a particular thought which floated through his consciousness.
It made no sense... although now that he thought about it, Jerry did think he had exceptionally cute feet.
For the remainder of the drive, Jerry watched his feet. His toes. His claws. His fluffy, soft fur. Every inch of his paws. He crossed his legs and turned them over so he could see their soft pink pads. He prodded at them, shivering and blushing slightly as he fought back a burst of giddy laughter. As though he had somehow managed to tickle himself... though to the best of the fennec's knowledge, such a thing was not normally possible.
When he finally felt the car pulling to a stop and saw his large suburban home awaiting his return through the window, the fennec fox wasted no time in stepping out of the car. He remembered to grab his bags of groceries, but gave no thought to the shoes and socks still resting upon the car's floor. If his driver noticed that Jerry was barefoot, he said nothing, but as the fox began to pad up the garden path he felt his cheeks flushing as all of a sudden he became aware of the cool, firm paving slabs against his bare paws. A slight summer breeze crossed the front lawn, ruffling the fennec's large ears, his tufted blonde hair and of course even the fur upon his feet. Jerry felt himself biting down instinctively upon his bottom lip, and realised only after the fact that he had been holding in a moan of excitement.
Darting rather hurriedly the rest of the way to the house, Jerry let himself in, thanked his driver before dismissing him for the day, and after fumbling around in his pocket for a few seconds, thrust a twenty into the driver's palm. With one final, rather bashful nod, the fennec began to bound up the stairs and out of sight, while his driver just stared down at the money in his hand.
In all his years of driving for the fennec fox, not once had he ever been tipped. Sure, he was paid well enough that he didn't really need it. But for his boss to actually give him extra cash, not only voluntarily but without any outward sign of frustration or regret, it very nearly brought tears to the driver's eyes.
Upstairs, swiftly making his way into his bedroom and locking the door behind him, Jerry didn't give a second thought to his tip. Heck, he'd barely thought about it while actually doing so. All he had been thinking about was getting upstairs. Getting somewhere private, so that he could... so...
The fennec frowned as he realised something. He didn't know why he had been so desperate to get some privacy. Sure, he'd been a little embarrassed to realise that he'd left his car without shoes on, but shame wasn't normally a word in Jerry's internal vocabulary. Not unless he was inflicting it upon others, anyway. Unless of course... maybe shame wasn't the right word for how Jerry had been feeling. Maybe it wasn't embarrassment that had provoked him into seeking solitude. But, the only other reason the fennec fox could think of that would drive him to so instinctively seek privacy would be...
Slowly, as though trying to sneak up on an animal running loose across the bedroom floor, Jerry allowed one of his hands to drift towards the crotch of his crisp black trousers. He placed it upon his crotch, and squeezed gently. A strong, intense shiver ran through the male's body, and he let slip a heated gasp as his body reacted to the touch. He felt himself beginning to swell. His sheath thickening and his cock beginning to protrude with surprising speed, like it had been waiting impatiently for some signal; almost for permission to let itself out of confinement to where it could no longer be ignored.
Jerry stared down at his swelling crotch, chuckling to himself softly. Well, that explained everything. The odd thoughts. The weird feeling he'd had in the store following the surprisingly soft, intimate touch to his neck. He was horny. He probably had been all day, but far too caught up in his own business to pay attention to the visceral needs of his body.
Without even a moment's further consideration, the fennec dropped his trousers and shuffled over to the edge of his bed. Sitting down he kicked off both the trousers and the black boxer briefs beneath them, looking down at his crotch as he reached out and took a firm hold of his rapidly stiffening, already throbbing erection.
Feeling his toes curling down into the carpeted floor, Jerry began to masturbate. He began at a steady pace, but soon began to vary his speed with the swells and ebbing of his arousal. Soon he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift, letting it choose whether he lingered in the empty minded clarity of his pleasure or if he was to fantasise his way to orgasm. It wasn't long at all before his subconscious made it's choice, and Jerry began to shiver and squirm as his mind began to play out a simple but oh so satisfying fantasy. A female skunk stood before him. Blue fur lining either side of her white striped back and tail, and further fluffy whiteness covering her stomach and beautiful, bountiful breasts. She was naked, and the way she was trembling as she clutched at her own crotch made the fennec almost certain that she was in heat.
She lay down before Jerry, and just like he was doing upon the bed began to pleasure herself. Calling out for him to aid her, to satisfy and breed her. But Jerry couldn't. He was too transfixed by her masturbatory efforts. Her legs spread wide open as she desperately plunged the fingers of one hand into herself while furiously tweaking at her clit with the other. Her feet raised up in the air, soles pointed directly at the fennec. Waving and kicking. Toes wriggling, flexing and curling. Faster and faster. More and more erotically and adorably all at once as her screams of pleasure stricken hunger grew ever louder.
By the time the skunk came just a few fantasy filled minutes later, Jerry could barely see her flying fingers and drooling depths. Paying attention solely to her soles. The splaying and wiggling of her toes as she arched her back and kicked out skyward amidst savage shrieks of bliss.
With a fevered yelp of his very own ecstasy, the fennec came too. The sheer volume of his cry was enough to snap him out of his reverie, but nowhere near shocking enough to stall the orgasm on the verge of overwhelming his every sense. Panting and howling in unbearable delight, Jerry humped frantically at the hand wrapped around his cock. His own toes dug down into the fabric of the carpet, and he dragged his feet back and forth across the floor, relishing every drop of sensation to brush across his sensitive arches and firm pink pads while rope after rope of thick, exceptionally productive cum lashed out between his legs and fell a surprising distance upon the floor beyond.
In the wake of his orgasm, Jerry didn't really think much of the content of his fantasy. The peak had been so intense and overwhelmingly good that he didn't think about much at all, falling back onto the bed, panting and trembling with giddy fatigue. It was only as he pulled the rest of his body up onto the bed and rolled over onto his side that the fennec fox gave even the slightest thought to the role which paws had played in his fantasy. He lay upon the soft sheets, still wearing his shirt but naked from the waist down, and considered the woman he had been imagining. Thinking about curling up with her in bed, drifting off to sleep with their feet brushing against one another, toes twitching and wiggling together.
The fennec chuckled to himself sleepily, considering the source of that particular fantasy; the word that had been whispered to him in the grocery store.
He shivered just thinking it, and his toes curled slightly. If it hadn't been for that rather strange and obscure insult, he doubtlessly would not have had that fantasy. He wouldn't have been so driven to masturbate right now, nor would he have enjoyed such a thrilling and potent climax. So, in a way, the person who had tried to insult him had ended up helping him. Had ended up making him happy.
Sure, it was a little strange that he'd enjoyed the thought of paws so much. But then... when they were attached to a beautiful, squirming, cumming lady, Jerry probably could have been thinking about her ears, or tail, or belly button, and still enjoyed himself just as much.
He wasn't worried. There was nothing to even consider being worried about. It had just been a momentary blip, one of those weird, obscure fantasies that popped up every now and then when his body was particularly needy and his mind was preoccupied with a certain topic.
Next time he masturbated, the idea, the concept of paws as a sexual object probably wouldn't even enter his mind.
Even if they were still present now as he lay there, drifting towards a restful, recuperative slumber. Even if behind the closed lids of his eyes, he saw paws. Twitching. Soft skinned. Ticklish. Squirming. Beautiful paws. These thoughts, these feelings, they would be gone by the time sleep claimed him, likely never to return.
The next morning, before work, Jerry found himself stroking his cock as he stood in the shower. He closed his eyes as the warm water rained down over him, rocking back and forth upon his soaked, bare footpaws, and found himself thinking about the skunk again. This time she wasn't naked or masturbating, but rather swimming in an outdoor pool. Wearing a beautiful pinkish purple one piece that outlined her shapely figure to perfection, she swam a lazy backstroke, Jerry watching from the side of the pool as her strong legs kicked out and propelled her through the water. He watched her paws rising and falling. Splashing, glistening water running down her toes and the smooth soles of her paws before they made their next burst of contact with the pool's surface.
No doubt she knew he was watching, for as the skunk reached the end of the pool she didn't turn to perform another length. Instead the blue and white furred female figure pulled herself up onto the pool's edge, and began to splash and paddle playfully at the water with her toes. Wriggling them. Splaying and curling them in a teasing rhythm that almost perfectly matched the frantic stroking of Jerry's hand upon his cock.
She giggled, stretching her legs out straight and showing off her paws in all their glory; every aspect of her body other than her feet fading out of focus as Jerry collapsed to his knees in the shower, throwing his head back with a wail of pleasure as he came once more.
All throughout that day, the fantasy he'd endured during his morning routine lingered at the back of Jerry's mind. He asked himself why he hadn't been able to shake it. Why it was getting him so worked up. Worse still, the more he thought about it... even in the context of an inconvenience, the more it continued to get him worked up. By the time he found himself being driven home from work at the end of the day, his cock was straining for freedom within his crisp black trousers. Even as he made it into his house and kicked off his shoes, he was already caught up in his latest fantasy. It wasn't his shoes being kicked off, but hers. The skunk's own. She bared her feet to the fennec fox's gaze, and sat down upon the stairwell with her legs and footpaws extended towards Jerry.
Again the fennec fell to his knees in delight, and as he clutched at his bulging, straining cock through his trousers and underwear, he imagined himself pressing his face into those soft, smooth feet. Rubbing his nose against the tender pads. Licking between her toes in reverent worship, the sound of her giggles and murmurs of satisfaction thrilling him more than any amount of pleasure stricken screaming.
By the time Jerry peeled himself free from his latest intense fantasy, he was trembling with fatigue once more, and the front of his smartest, most expensive pair of work trousers were glistening from where the cum he had shot into his own underwear was seeping through in rather liberal quantities.
It was then he began to wonder. To give thought to a possibility which in recent times gone by would not have even entered his sphere of consciousness. Just a few minutes after that uncontrolled, messy, entirely involuntary orgasm at the mercy of his own paw-fuelled fantasy, he stood in his bedroom. Staring at his bare body in the mirror, and increasingly aware with each passing second that the thoughts running through his mind weren't just fantasies. They were more akin to an obsession. Even now, less than a handful of minutes after his last orgasm and its associated paw-centric daydream, he was barely able to see himself in the bedroom mirror. He was staring as hard as he could, but his eyes wouldn't focus. Would barely respond as he commanded them to remain open.
Instead, he saw paws. He envisioned paws. Not just the skunk's paws either. Not paws belonging to any individual creature, but paws as a concept. Paws as a vast, overarching theme. The feel of paws. The sight of them. The way they moved through the air. The way they reacted when touched, and the way he reacted when they touched him.
It had been light when Jerry returned from work, but by the time he pulled himself away from the mirror, it was growing dark. His body was still naked, his legs felt stiff as though he had been standing still for quite some time, and his cock was hard again. On the floor before the fennec, there lay a dark spot; a small pool of his pre-cum. He stared at it for a few seconds, transfixed, before turning his gaze lower. Closer to home. Towards his own bare, exposed feet.
Jerry flexed his toes. Curled them down into the carpet. He wiggled them, and shifted his feet back and forth, shuddering in excitement as the sensation of his soles brushing along the carpet provoked a rush of ticklish endorphins. A breathless moan escaped his lips, and with his face flushing deep pink beneath its sandy fur, the fennec turned away from the mirror and rushed to his bed. To the safety and security of his sheets and the soft mattress. To a place of comfort and safety, where he could indulge his desires to their inevitable conclusion once more.
The next day, Jerry called in sick from work.
And the next.
And the next.
He found himself spending all day in bed, sitting up, legs crossed in front of him, just looking at his own feet. Touching them. Stroking them. Even licking them; manhandling his less than limber limbs towards his face and allowing him to nuzzle and kiss and tenderly lap at his smooth arches and warm, plump pads.
His obsession was undeniable. He knew it was happening. He knew it was consuming him. But he didn't care. Never in his life had Jerry felt so broken and helpless as when he was ignoring his longings, and never had he felt so good as when he was indulging them.
At first, just fantasising had been enough. Those first few incredible orgasms accompanying thoughts of that gorgeous skunk and her paws. Then, so long as the fantasies were confined to paws alone, the feelings grew even more incredible and intense. After that he had turned to his own body. His own paws. Watching them. Touching them. Worshipping them as though unable to believe that such beauty had always and forever been a part of him, so under-appreciated and long ignored.
On the fifth day of his self-imposed vacation, his phone having long since run out of battery and his land-line lifted off the hook to keep anyone from interrupting him, Jerry found himself craving something more.
He whimpered, pleading and begging wordlessly for the same satisfaction he had enjoyed just a few hours ago through this very same method of self pleasure. Holding his legs tightly by the knees, stretching and testing his own flexibility to the limit as he used the heels of his feet to sandwich and massage the swollen length of his cock. The fennec gazed down at his feet, at his cock, at what should have been the most deliciously erotic and now well practised solo footjob he had ever seen. But instead of relishing the pleasure and becoming lost in the sheer eroticism of watching his feet twitch and caress his shaft towards a state of abject rapture, both the sight and the feeling of the act only served to whet his appetite. To make him all the more desperately needy for something else. Something ever more intimate and paw-centric.
Jerry shuddered as he realised what it was he was craving. A shudder of mixed desire and anguish as he considered the possibility that in order to satisfy his urges, he would have to look to someone else for help. Or more specifically, someone else's paws.
With the realisation that his satisfaction could not be achieved alone, Jerry flew from his bedroom to the upstairs office. Hurriedly he closed down the multiple browser window's he'd pulled up over the last day or two, some depicting women with their paws exposed or otherwise on show, others simply displaying pictures of feet without even bothering to include the rest of the body to which they were attached. In their place he pulled up another window, and after a moment of hesitation as he tried to figure out exactly what he was looking for, input a brief phrase into the browser's search engine.
'Foot fetish club reviews; Yelp.'
That very evening, dressed in the most casual smart-casual attire his normally professionally minded self owned, Jerry's car pulled to a halt a block or so away from the closest match his frantic online searching had been able to find. A highly rated fetish club in the old industrial district of the city, which while not catering specifically to his particular desperate desires did list paw-fetishes as one of the many kinks one could explore and share in this venue. With his vision blurred and his navy blue trousers tented, the results of the best part of a day spent in a frustrated limbo of unsatisfying and ultimately failed attempts to get himself off, the fennec staggered from his car alone; no driver to accompany him or to close the door of the vehicle as he abandoned it.
It took all of Jerry's strength and willpower to pull himself together as he rounded the corner of the block and saw the neon lights of the club's exterior shining down at him from up ahead. He fought to regain at least a semblance of composure, not wishing to be turned away from the door before he'd even had a chance to explore what lay within, and began to approach the old, converted factory building.
Soon he found himself standing before two typically burly doormen, a black bear and a German shepherd, both bearing sapphire studded velvet collars over bare chests. They stared at him for a moment, watching as with none of his usual crisp, purposeful movement the fennec fumbled in his trouser pockets for his wallet, peeling out a pair of fifty dollar notes and holding them out amateurishly. The two doormen cocked their eyebrows at one another, before glaring back down at Jerry with a smirk.
"Dude, what do you think this is, a movie? We're here to stop photographers and bigots getting in, not to judge who gets in and who doesn't."
The bear spoke to Jerry, his voice surprisingly fey and gentle. As the fennec blushed and began to withdraw his hands however, the German shepherd held up a hand for him to stop.
"But now you've offered... I guess it'd be pretty rude for us to turn you down, just this once."
The two doormen took the notes out of Jerry's trembling hands, and opened the door for him with a pair of beaming grins.
"Welcome to Walkies. Have a good evening, and... try to loosen up a bit, yeah?"
Jerry stepped through the doors, wincing slightly as they swung closed behind him and immediately a wave of scent hit his nostrils. A surprisingly intoxicating mixture of perspiration, leather, latex and alcohol which even his paw-focused mind couldn't help but process in a somewhat erotic context. The fennec fox shivered in excitement, and took a step forward as he rubbed his eyes; trying to bring them into focus beneath the bright, multicoloured lights which flickered and pulsed around the club's vast ground floor. He let slip a soft, giddy groan as his gaze began to adjust and hundreds of bodies slid into view before him. Many of them dancing, others seated and drinking. And others still, mostly in more shady corners of the room or on their way towards one of the side doors, in varied states of undress and intimacy
If there was anywhere he was going to find someone who could help him, it was here.
Although, now that Jerry found himself looking around the club in more detail, he couldn't help but notice something that appeared to be missing. Something which until now the fennec fox had simply taken for granted. After all, it was something that was fairly vital to not just the club scene, but particularly to the sex club scene. There were guys everywhere that Jerry looked. Buff guys. Skinny guys. Vanilla looking guys and obviously heavily kinky guys decked out in all manner of bondage gear. Guys of all ages and species. But what this club was missing, a vital ingredient which Jerry had failed to recognise in his hasty search for this place's reputation and location, was more than a handful of members of the opposite gender.
Pulling out his freshly charged phone, Jerry urgently pulled up the club's website once more. The front page loudly exclaimed the club's purpose, as well as saying it was a space for anyone and everyone to be whoever they wanted to be. It was only when he clicked over to the About Us section of the site that the penny finally dropped, and the fennec's whole face burned crimson with embarrassment at his own rash stupidity.
Over and over again his eyes read the first sentence on that freshly loaded web-page.
'The State's premier Gay Fetish Nightclub'.
Gay fetish nightclub.
Gay fetish nightclub.
Jerry's hands instinctively fell to his crotch, shamefully hiding his bulging trousers as best he could behind his trembling fingers as if somehow displaying his arousal might be taken as a sign that he too was... was like that. The fennec had never considered himself homophobic, he had no problem with anyone's sexuality and had always thrown his company's support behind equal rights and benefits for same sex partners. But to suddenly find himself here, in a gay club where the kinkiest and most lewd erotic acts were openly celebrated, was something of a culture shock to say the least. He didn't know how to react. How to process the way he was feeling, as horny as ever, more so in fact with each passing second, but suddenly surrounded by people who could not help him. Who could not offer him what he needed, no matter how eager they may have been to do so.
The fennec was about to turn away from the club's interior, about to leave and resign himself to yet further hours of searching. To the idea that in order to relieve himself he might have to resort to paying for sex, assuming of course he could find a prostitute who was willing to negotiate for the kind of activity in which he wanted to indulge. He was in the process of shifting his weight, preparing to turn... when he saw him.
Propped up against the bar not too far away, sipping on a drink and laughing at some joke told to him by the guy sitting on the next stool over, was a tiger. He had one leg hooked gently around the other, the bare sole of that paw exposed to the open air of the club, only the very tips of its clawed toes touching the ground.
In that moment, Jerry swallowed thickly as he realised what his own mind was considering. What he was finding himself thinking about without any conscious desire to do so.
Yes, he did not deny that it wasn't ideal. That in a perfect world he would want to be with a woman... he did consider himself straight, after all.
And that was it. The key point, the moment at which Jerry knew he was at the mercy of his body's cravings. When he found himself thinking that one all important word.
But... that tiger did have exceptionally cute paws.
With his whole body trembling in a mixture of desire and nervousness, Jerry found himself stumbling not back to the club's doors, but towards the bar. He didn't know what to do. How to act. Sure, he'd flirted before. He'd picked up women plenty of times, in bars or at conferences where the night life was by far more interesting and entertaining than the project seminars and lectures which occurred during the day. This however was entirely virgin territory for the fennec. How did he go about picking up a guy. Not just any guy, but a guy with paws to die for.
In one of the most unsuccessful attempts at appearing casual ever attempted throughout history, Jerry leaned up against the bar next to the tiger. He shot a few nervous glances towards the buff feline male, less directed at the tiger's face and more at his beautiful bare feet, and tried to figure out how to at least break the ice. At least make the tiger aware of his existence.
As it turned out, however, the tiger was already aware of him.
Smirking, the tiger snapped his fingers to draw Jerry's attention away from his feet and towards his grinning maw. The fennec fox blushed and tried to play it off casually, but after just a few seconds he knew that wasn't going to work. Bashfully he looked up at the muscular feline, and let slip a soft whimper of embarrassment as the tiger pointed towards the bar... or more specifically to the large reflective mirror which ran the length of it. The mirror through which the tiger had no doubt been watching every second of the fennec's supposedly incognito assessment of the big cat's paws.
"See something you like, cutie?"
The deep, rumbling baratone of the tiger's voice sent violent shudders running down Jerry's spine. It was such a masculine voice, and yet the mere fact it was connected to the owner of those paws meant that Jerry couldn't help but look past all its inherent manliness.
With yet another bashful whimper, Jerry nodded.
"Your... um... y-your paws."
Grinning from ear to ear, the tiger chuckled knowingly. For a moment he glanced towards the figure on his opposite side, and spoke with shameless pride, all too aware that Jerry could still hear every word.
"I told you, man. You can flash all the flesh you want... but just show off these bad boys..."
He moved one of his feet towards the fennec slightly, and wiggled his toes. Jerry let slip a helplessly needy whine of delight.
"...and the pawsluts will be lining up to do whatever they can to get a look. Isn't that right, cutie?"
Jerry said nothing, but nodded in the most meek and respectful manner possible. The more time he spent looking at those paws, those big, heavy, powerful tiger paws, the more certain he was that he had to have them. With each passing moment it felt more and more like Jerry's very life rested on him not just finding a set of paws with which to satisfy himself, but this particular set. He dared not risk doing or saying anything which might lead the tiger to turn his efforts and his beautiful feet elsewhere.
Thankfully, it seemed the tiger had no interest in making their interaction overly involved or two sided. He seemed perfectly happy in the position of control, and more than content in the simple assumption that the fennec fox before him was just another shy but horny paw lover seeking an exchange of favours. An exchange which he was more than willing to facilitate.
Leaning in close to the fennec, whispering teasingly into one of Jerry's large, sensitive ears as the tips of his fingers caressed tenderly at its lobe, the tiger made his proposition.
"Why don't we go see if there's a private room available, hmm? You suck my cock, and then I'll let you go to town on my paws for a while. Sound good to you?"
Jerry wanted to resist. Wanted to stop himself and take a moment to consider what he was doing; what he was thinking about doing, anyway. Was it really worth it? Really worth being intimate with a man... sucking a man's cock, just for a touch, a taste, and a few tender strokes from a set of footpaws? Those were questions he wanted to ask himself. Questions he should have asked, but didn't. He didn't ask them even internally, because much as he might have wanted to resist on one level, the rest of his mind was already consumed by the single, desperate craving which had possessed him ever since he'd first heard that fateful word whispered in his ear.
He would do anything. Anything , if it meant satisfying the throbbing bulge within his trousers and the frantic craving within his heart.
The fennec whimpered happily as he slipped off his bar stool, his swiftness and the hunger in his voice giving no hints as to his trepidation.
A tremor of uncontrolled delight surged through the fennec's body as he felt one of the tiger's strong hands seize his own and begin to lead him across the bustling floor of the club. He barely saw anything, all flashing strobes and twisting, grinding bodies of all shapes and sizes. The next thing Jerry knew he and his bare-pawed companion were on the far side of the main dance floor, and the tiger was stuffing a bill of some value into the waiting hand of a member of staff. No sooner had the money been exchanged the staff member produced a key from their pocket, and unlocked the door in front of which they were standing. The voloptuous white furred bunny nodded graciously to the tiger, and winked at Jerry in a way that made the fennec's cheeks burn an even deeper shade of red, before stepping aside and ushering them in.
The door clicked shut behind them just a few seconds later, muting but not entirely removing the pumping bass and the hum of voices from the club beyond. Finding his hand suddenly free once more, released from the tiger's firm but tender grasp, Jerry turned towards the buff feline. His eyes widened, and for a moment he turned away bashfully as he saw the male unbuckling his belt and beginning to pull off his trousers and underwear in a single fluid motion. It took him a split-second to recognise how foolish this was, given what he was about to do, and with only a little effort the fennec turned back to watch the tiger exposing his firm, bare ass beneath the twitching base of his tail.
Turning on the spot, one hand gently rubbing at his already thick and rapidly swelling cock, the tiger looked at Jerry with an expectant grin.
"You may wanna take your clothes off, cutie. Not to brag, but unless you're a lot more practiced at this than you look, I'm gonna make a real mess of you."
Stripping out of his clothes as requested, doing so with that same haste born both of nerves and the frenzied need to satisfy himself, the fennec soon revealed his own erection to the tiger. It was smaller, much smaller than the feline's own. But with almost two feet of difference between their heights, more considering the amount of height on Jerry's part which was entirely due to his ears, Jerry knew he had nothing to be embarrassed about, proportionally speaking. Clearly the tiger knew this too, because as he looked down over the naked fennec, he purred loudly.
"Damn... cutie's a hottie! And ready to blow. You're pretty pent up, huh?"
He reached out, and before Jerry could say or do anything the tiger had several of his fingers rubbing at the underside of the fennec's already rock hard and liberally drooling cock. Jerry yelped in pleasure-ridden anguish, stumbling back a step or so and frantically shaking his head.
"P-please. I... I can't. Not like that. I n-need... I mean, I want your paws."
Cocking an eyebrow for just a moment, the tiger's expression made Jerry freeze and fall silent. The fennec was terrified that he'd displeased the feline, and that offer of cock-sucking or not, the big cat might wish to look elsewhere rather than dealing with a paw-hungry freak like him.
Lucky for Jerry, he was wrong.
"Hey, that's cool by me, man. Just take care of me first, then these babies will take care of you."
Wiggling his toes playfully against the ground, a sight which took Jerry's breath away and sent a fresh surge of pre-cum pouring from the tip of his needy cock, the tiger stepped forward. He held his cock in one hand, palm up, as though offering it to Jerry on a platter.
The fennec fox stared down at that meaty manhood, eyes wide with fear as he wondered how on earth he was supposed to pleasure such an object with his mouth. But then, like a gift from the heavens, he felt his eyes shift south. Looking past the tiger's girthy shaft and swollen balls, down to the still twitching, shuffling lengths of the other male's paws. In that moment, Jerry realised that it didn't matter what he knew or didn't know. He had no choice but to suck the tiger's cock, and to make it the best blowjob of the feline's life. His contact with the big cat's paws depended on it, which might as well have meant his very sanity, perhaps even his life depended on it, the way he felt right now.
Falling to his knees, Jerry shuffled forward, blushing and squirming as he felt one of the tiger's hands tousle the soft sandy fur between his ears. He kept his eyes half lidded, glancing hurriedly back and forth between the swollen shaft of the tiger and the big cat's wonderful feet. In this method he managed to keep himself motivated, keep himself hot and desperate enough to continue, until the tip of his nose suddenly and somehow surprisingly to the fennec bumped into something hot, firm, and rather wet.
He turned his gaze forward one more time, eyes widening as the tiger chuckled warmly from somewhere up above. Quite without thinking, he had bumped directly into the tip of the feline's own straining, already pre-producing cock.
There was no turning back now. No time for hesitation or last minute doubts.
Unable to look down to the tiger's paws any longer, unable to tear his eyes away from the thick cock literally hanging right before his eyes, Jerry took a deep breath. He pursed his lips to hide his teeth, and with every ounce of his focus dedicated to the thought of how the tiger's paws would look and feel against his body, took the male's cock into his mouth.
"O-ohh... e-easy there, cutie. No rush, r-right?"
To hear the tiger moaning those words just a few seconds after he'd gotten started surprised Jerry, the suckling pressure he was applying with his muzzle and the caressing of the tiger's shaft by his tongue merely a replication of what he had felt women do to him in the past. The fennec's enthusiasm must surely have counted for a degree of his success, or so he told himself. Surely it couldn't be because he was genuinely good at this. Talented at... at pleasing men.
Of course, on the receiving end of the blow-job Jerry couldn't blame the tiger for his enthusiasm, for his grunts and purrs of pleasure as he stroked at the back of the fennec's head and humped with ever increasing pace at Jerry's hungry maw. The feline male had no idea what was driving Jerry's desires, no clue that he wasn't here due to a genuine wish to be with another man... but because he needed paws to satisfy himself, regardless of to whom they were attached at the time.
"Fuck... if you'd told me you were this desperate for a drink, cutie, I'd have bought you a beer before we got started. N-not that I'm complaining."
The more and more urgently Jerry slurped and sucked upon the tiger, allowing his lust-ridden core to dominate the control of his actions rather than with any focused effort on the part of his mind, the easier it became to keep going. The tiger's moans and gasps of appreciative pleasure began to encourage the fennec rather than acting as a distraction, and with the majority of his conscious mind still caught up in thoughts of the feline male's feet even the taste of cock in his maw and the feeling of the tiger's pre-cum slowly dripping onto the back of his tongue was easily swept up into Jerry's anticipation of what was still to come.
Before long Jerry found himself bobbing back and forth upon the tiger's cock almost perfectly in time with the thunderous beat of the music from the club beyond. With every lashing of his tongue over it's sensitive head he could feel the feline male's body tensing up, the hands now gripping rather tightly at his ears trembling and the feet which the fennec was so eager to lavish with attention shuffling and scratching at the floor with their sharp claws. He knew it wouldn't be long until the tiger came, and knowing what that meant for him made the fennec all the more desperate to aid his new lover's haste.
With one hand Jerry reached out between the tiger's slightly shaky legs and cupped the other male's balls in his palm. He squeezed slightly, rolling them back and forth upon his fingers as he continued to suckle at the big cat's cock. It felt beyond strange to hold another man's testicles within his hand, never mind to treat them with such care and devotion. But if it hastened the time at which he would be free to claim his side of the bargain by only a few seconds, it would all be worth it.
"Ah... ahhh, god!"
The tiger began to growl deeply. His hips began to buck and thrust of their own accord, entirely out of sync with the motion of the fennec's full, open maw. With each passing second his cries grew ever louder and more savage, until finally he pulled his hands back from Jerry's ears and clenched them into tight fists by his side. He let loose one final, rumbling snarl of ecstasy, and hot ribbons of cum began to spill from his cock into the fennec fox's inexperienced yet seemingly naturally gifted muzzle.
Jerry gurgled and moaned in a mixture of lust and distaste, not able to hide how weird and uncomfortable it felt to be swallowing another man's cum no matter how desperately he had needed to do so. He could feel it running down his chin and dripping onto his torso, just as the tiger had told him it would, making him glad that he had indeed discarded his clothing. The flood seemed endless, the tiger's cock throbbing and straining over and over again, each motion producing a fresh wave of his musky cum. But eventually it did cease, trailing off from thick, voluminous spurts to more watery trickles, then to dry firing twitches, and finally to nothing.
Only when he was sure the tiger had stopped cumming, not wishing to get a single drop of cum on his face despite the fact it was already coating the surroundings of his muzzle, did Jerry draw back. He fell back onto his rear and simply sat for a few moments, catching his breath and growing accustomed to the feeling of his muzzle being empty once more. The tiger, meanwhile, sat down too. Bringing his weary body to rest on the floor directly opposite Jerry even though there were couches on the far side of this rendezvous room.
The tiger licked his lips, shaking his head as he stared at the fennec.
"You're an odd one, y'know, cutie? You act like a virgin, but you suck cock like a pro."
Jerry blushed, and was about to thank the tiger for the compliment when he realised what exactly that would imply. Instead he just smiled, and entirely without trying found his eyes drawn once more to the feline male's feet; now planted almost directly before him, soles facing downward and legs bent at the knee.
Seeing where Jerry was looking, the tiger snorted with laughter.
"And you certainly know what you want, and aren't afraid to show it."
Before the fennec fox could react, the tiger stretched his legs out completely. Leaning back on the palms of his hands slightly, he lined his lower limbs up together and presented his bare paws just a few inches in front of where Jerry was seated. Wiggling his toes, the tiger purred invitingly.
"So, I guess it's time for you to get your reward, huh?"
Jerry just stared. Dazed and awed by the sudden presence of those paws right in front of him. Presented to him like a gift. Like a treasure. Like an idol at which to worship. He could still hear the tiger talking, but just like the music from the club it was all just background hum. All that mattered, all that existed to Jerry, were those paws.
"Do what you want with 'em. You deserve it, cutie."
Shuffling forward a little, the tiger raised one paw, as though offering it openly to the fennec. With quivering hands Jerry took it, and let slip a desperately happy whimper as he began to trace his fingers over the pads of that beautiful paw. Between the toes and across its soft, sumptuous fur. As he did so, he barely even noticed the tiger's other paw making a move of its own. The first he knew of it was when he felt something soft and velvety brushing against the drooling tip of his own cock, and glanced briefly down, tearing his gaze away from the paw clutched in his hands, to see the pads of the tiger's toes caressing him.
The desperately giddy, overwhelmed cry of happiness which escaped the fennec at that moment was loud enough to reach the club beyond their little private room, causing more than a few other attendees to glance that way and smirk knowingly. They couldn't possibly have known just how joyful Jerry was though; not even the fennec fox himself could truly comprehend how good it felt, how amazing it was to finally have what he craved. Paws. The paws of another living, breathing fur right in front of him; free to do with as he wished, and seemingly eager to satisfy his unrestrained, carnal needs.
Allowing the paw upon his crotch to continue rubbing and teasing at him in a manner of its own choosing, Jerry turned his focus back to the paw in his hands. He pulled it closer, slowly and carefully so that the tiger could shift position along with it, until at last it was hanging right in front of his face. With a tender, intimate moan the fennec brushed his face up against the paw. He rubbed his muzzle and cheek across its soft central pad, before burying his nose in its toes, focusing not on the smell but on the sensation of having his face buried amongst those gorgeous, wiggling digits. He kissed at its soft surface, tender and filled with almost religious reverence for the beauty of every perfectly sculpted inch.
In less than a minute, Jerry had begun to lick and suckle upon each of the tiger's toes with more eager enthusiasm than he had ever shown for the feline male's erection. His tongue tenderly flicked into the most subtle crevices between digits in his effort to perfectly map and worship every last little spot of flesh which composed the paw. His eyes remained closed, focusing all his efforts on feeling; both the paw within his hands and muzzle, and of course the tiger's other paw, its whole length now engaged in stroking and stimulating his now violently throbbing, over-stimulated cock.
Mindlessly, the fennec fox moaned and gasped in pleasure between slurps and kisses and nuzzles at the paw pressed against his face. He couldn't get enough, so much so in fact that no matter how desperately he had been craving the relief of orgasm prior to this point, the idea that all this might come to an end before he was ready now terrified him. With fumbling hands and a series of frantic, pleading but wordless whimpers, Jerry held the already captive paw to his face in one hand as the other descended towards the tiger's second paw. Carefully and with a whimper of frustration he pulled its pre-cum stained pads away from his cock, and drew the two feline feet back together once more before his panting, gasping muzzle.
"Oh g-go-oohhhh... oh god..."
With not one but two paws now practically covering the entirety of his face, more soft flesh and twitching, wiggling, adorable toes to deal with than he could handle, Jerry found himself crying out in ecstasy even without the touch of toes and smooth soles against his cock. He stifled his cries with the very paws that were provoking them, every moment that passed bringing him both a greater sense of satisfaction, yet an even deeper desperation for more. He couldn't help himself. He couldn't control his body or its desires in any capacity now. The sole focus of his mind was the tiger's paws. Touching them. Tasting them. Loving and enjoying them for every single moment they were present before him.
Every taste, every moment of contact, every last little motion they made against his brightly burning cheeks and wide open, panting muzzle, brought Jerry closer to satisfying himself. To ending this seemingly ceaseless craving with which he had been cursed.
He didn't need to touch himself. He didn't need paws to touch him there.
All he needed were those two gorgeous paws pressed up against his face, glistening with his saliva and twitching as his lips and tongue and soft fur tickled at the tiger's sensitive pads.
That was all it took, so that after just a little while longer, Jerry could no longer hold his ecstasy in check.
He groaned happily, eyes fluttering as a tremor of intense pleasure wracked him from head to toe.
He felt his cock pulse. Straining, throbbing, hotter and harder than Jerry had ever felt it in all his life.
With a gleeful howl of euphoria, the fennec fox began to cum. Thick streaks of his seed gushing from the tip of his already sodden, glistening cock and flying out through the air in all directions. Not a paw, not a hand, not a feather-stroke was necessary to make Jerry cum long and hard, spilling every drop his balls had to offer and making a mess which by far outweighed anything that the tiger's own orgasmic overflow had done to him. All that he needed to satisfy himself was right there, pressed up against his face squirming and wriggling with delight at the sight of the pleasure which the tiger's feet had provoked.
For almost half a minute Jerry hung in a state of pure ecstasy, floating somewhere far above reality in a realm populated by only himself and one perfect, unthinkably erotic pair of paws.
And then, as quickly as the satisfaction and freedom from his torment had spread through him, it was over.
Jerry panted and whimpered, wanting to stop the tiger from drawing his paws back and pulling himself up to stand upon them, but finding his arms too weak to do so in the wake of that savage peak. Yes, he'd cum, but that didn't mean he was done. He still wanted more. He still needed more. The desire wasn't nearly as strong as before, thankfully, but it was far from absent.
Bashfully and wearily, the fennec cried out as he saw the tiger beginning to slip his underwear and trousers back on. The feline didn't stop dressing himself, but he did turn back to regard Jerry with a smile.
"No time to wait, cutie. No point sitting here feeling good when I could be sitting at the bar feeling good with some pounding tunes and a thousand other cuties to admire as they pass by."
As he re-buckled his belt however, the tiger paused. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then began to dig through his trouser pockets as he strolled back over to the private room's door. A few seconds later he pulled out a sliver of card, and tossed it down to the still seated fennec.
"That's my number. If you wanna mess around again, here, or maybe at your place, gimmie a call. I'll gladly give you another round with these bad boys..."
He lifted one foot and wiggled his toes at Jerry. The fennec whined in excitement, and his already mostly softened cock still managed a twitch of desire.
"...if there's more top class cock-sucking to be had in return."
Looking down at the phone number scrawled onto the card in black pen, Jerry considered what was happening. That he was being offered a phone number to essentially booty-call this tiger. This male tiger.
And that no matter how much it freaked him out, no matter how much it confused him, the simple fact that there were a pair of paws attached to that body which just happened to be male, meant that he would call it.
In fact, it'd be tough to keep himself from calling it every second of every day, knowing the pair of paws that awaited him on the other end.
Bashfully, but with a definitive note of desire in his voice, the fennec fox nodded at the tiger.
"T-thanks. I'll call you."
The tiger grinned back at him, and called back over his shoulder as he opened the door and vanished back into the club; leaving Jerry still sitting naked, and exposed to countless pairs of eyes through the open door.
"I know you will... pawslut."