FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Grant and Alex left through the bedroom window. He hoped his truck didn’t wake his grandmother as he started it. It was an older model pickup with chipped blue paint and a flatbed missing its tailgate. Grant was constantly tooling around with it to keep it running. Most times he worked while Alex looked over his shoulder. He was a smart kid, but he was not mechanically inclined. The truck gave Grant what little freedom he had in his life.

Eighteen had been a difficult milestone for him. Having been held back a year, all of his peers, he hesitated to call them friends, graduated before him. It was humiliating to think that the rest of them were starting the next chapter of their lives while he was struggling in a school system that had failed him. If it wasn’t for his grandma, he would have dropped out long ago. In fact, Alex’s father was the only other person in town who spoke up for him. He was the principal of the high school, and an outsider, so he wasn’t able to change anything, but Grant still appreciated that there was at least one other adult who cared enough to stand up for him besides his grandmother and Ray.

It took less than fifteen minutes to get to the high school. The light filtering between the trees by the roadside had just lost its orange tinge of morning. The sky was a vibrant blue with a few wispy clouds flying high. They were late, yes, but it wouldn’t be too bad. He would sign his own note. Alex would get the worst of it from his father, but when he explained that he had gone to check on Grant his old man wouldn’t give him too much heat.

The old truck rumbled into a corner space in the school parking lot, next to a chain-link fence covered in ivy and shaded by a massive alder tree.

“Let’s get this over with,” Grant said as he got out of the truck. Alex meekly followed.

Grant carried a pen and a notepad, forgoing his backpack. He had enough credits to graduate and he wasn’t worried about finals. He sensed the faculty was finally ready to see him go and wouldn’t stand in his way.

They passed through the front gate and walked along the cement path to the front office of Bartelby Matthews High School. Mrs. Duffy, the school’s office attendant, was waiting for them at the front desk. The two of them greeted her and she slipped Grant an attendance slip. She eyed him up and down with a disapproving look, then pleasantly told Alex that his father was waiting for him in his office.

“Sorry, Dad,” Alex said as Grant watched him go through the office’s open door. Alex’s father momentarily appeared. He looked out of the office and gave Grant a friendly, yet full of concern.

Grant lowered his head, “Sorry, Mr. Richards,” he said. He would have tried to explain but Alex’s father shut the door without waiting to hear more.

Grant looked at the clock. He still had time to catch the tail end of Mrs. Cunningham’s history class. Mrs. Cunningham was a slight old woman with silver hair cut in a bob hairstyle. She was not unkind to Grant and sometimes he even enjoyed sitting in her class. He made his way to her classroom. The school was not a large one and most of it was enclosed under one roof. The brightly lit fluorescent halls were sparsely populated by students. Everyone was supposed to be in class.

Just before he got to Mrs. Cunningham’s classroom, a wave of warmth washed over him. It had started in his lower back and radiated to his arms and legs. He realized it had been present since he’d arrived, but it was so faint he hadn’t noticed. When it reached his head, it warmed his face and he felt himself blush. He was lightheaded momentarily, had to lean against a nearby wall of lockers. The cool metal was refreshing and he pressed his face against it like a person who had had too much alcohol. A stronger wave washed over him and the warmth rushed down his neck, over his chest where it hardened his nipples, and settled in his groin. He felt pre-cum start to ooze from his cock. Unbidden, it started to swell and press against the front of his jeans. It would be obvious to anyone passing that he had a raging erection. He tried to focus his thoughts, but his head was swimming. He began to notice a distinct scent in the air that he’d never smelled before and it was driving him wild.

The door to Mrs. Cunningham’s class opened and a male student exited the class with his hands on his crotch. He walked awkwardly down the hall as the teacher was calling after him. “Wesley Johns, you are not excused to leave!” She came to the door to see where he was going. Wesley made a beeline for the bathroom almost tripping over himself along the way. “I don’t know what has gotten into these kids today,” she said to no one in particular.

Her eyes scanned the hall and settled upon Grant. He was using his notebook to cover his cock, which was currently trying to break free from his zipper. She didn’t seem to notice his condition, or the fact that his face was pressed against the locker. “You’re late, Mr. Miller. Come to class,” she said unamused.

He heard her say something about class disruptions but all he could do was murmur in agreement. His tongue had become heavy and he was still having difficulty thinking. He did his best to conceal himself as he took his seat. The scent was much more powerful in the enclosed space of the classroom. It was bordering on unbearable. He looked around. A few of the students were unaffected and paying close attention to the lecture, but there were boys and girls who seemed to be in a similar state as Grant. Their checks were red; some had matted hair from perspiration. Even though the air conditioning was fully functional, it looked as if they were all stuck in a metal shed, in the middle of Death Valley, during the hottest summer on record.

He turned his head to look at the desk to his right. Jack Peterson, captain of the football team, and Lynn Meier, captain of the cheerleading squad, were surreptitiously fondling each other under the table. He was wearing his varsity jacket and looked as if he was ready to throw Lynn onto the desk and take her in front of the whole class. Given the fact that almost every other boy in the class, and some of the girls, were turning around to stare at them at odd intervals, Grant decided he had found the source of the… distraction.

Grant decided it was his mission to get through the remaining minutes of class without whipping out his cock and furiously masturbating in full view of everyone present. He would worry about how he would make it through his remaining four classes, one of which was with Lynn, later. By the amount of pre-cum leaking into his boxers, he was sure he would have to take his own bathroom break soon.

By the time the clock ticked down the last minute of class, Grand was ready to walk out. He heard sighs from his fellow students, along with some whimpering. He felt like he was in a kennel. Grant couldn’t resist looking at Lynn again. She still had her hand in Jack’s lap. As he sniffed the air, he felt the glint of a jewel of revelation in his mind, but he could not fully grasp it. His mind was cloudy and obstructed. His cock had grown extremely sensitive. He felt like he would cum whenever he moved, so he tried not to move a muscle.

When the bell rang, he placed his hands on top of the desk and slowly pushed himself to his feet. He was sure that his pants were still stretched in front, but he no longer cared. He didn’t hear Mrs. Cunningham’s parting words. The only thing that mattered was getting to a bathroom stall and jacking off. If all the stalls were taken he would jack off at a urinal or even a sink. He didn’t care who saw him. When he finally got to the restroom, he was dismayed to find Jack and Lynn making out in the open, surrounded by the football team.

“Just wait, baby,” Jack was telling her, “the guys will clear out the bathroom and we’ll have it all to ourselves.”

Shit, Grant thought. Then he realized he was “one of the guys.” In his mind, he had never fully integrated with the other guys, but they were close enough to watch him blow his load. He hoped he would get some alone time in the bathroom before the next bell.

As his despair was turning to hope, a short, skinny kid, Grant recognized him from the track team, tried to make his way through to the bathroom door. He was blocked by two large linebackers.

Jack looked up and said, “Fuck off.”

The boy, he had a buzz cut much like Grant’s before he let it grow out, was not deterred. He tried to make his way through again. He too had a tent at the front of his jeans. He looked down, face red, either from the scent, or embarrassment, or both.

Jack was pissed. “Didn’t you hear me, Asshole? I said, fuck off!” Jack grabbed him by the collar of his black t-shirt and easily threw the boy to the ground. He slid across the linoleum floor, sneakers screeching as he went. His sprawled form elicited laughs from the rest of the team.

The boy looked up with fire in his eyes, bared his teeth, and lunged for Jack, but the football captain was alert and ready for the attack. He feinted, went low, and slammed his fist into the boy’s stomach, whose feet momentarily left the ground. Then Jack grabbed his crumpled body by the neck and raised him into the air with one arm.

“Let him go,” Grant growled. He felt his hackles rise.

Jack was team captain, and Grant respected his position, but he had always had a problem with his too perfect face and blonde hair. And something was telling him that he needed to protect the little guy.

When Jack didn’t put him down, Grant grabbed his arm at the wrist. It was close enough to feel the black haired boy’s belabored breath on his skin. The other teammates moved to grab him, but Grant released a low, inhuman growl that stopped them in their tracks. Jack, on the other hand, was not afraid. He dropped the kid unceremoniously to the floor and grabbed Grant with a look of murder in his eyes. He was almost a head taller than Grant and had more bulk, but Grant found the strength to match him.

Lynn was encouraging Jack to kick his ass.

The two of them began to wrestle. They threw each other into the lockers, each time they dented the metal. One door almost fell off its hinges. When they ran out of lockers, Jack threw Grant against the cement wall. Dust fell from overhead as the wall cracked. Grant momentarily lost his breath, recovered, then head-butted Jack in his pretty face. By the sound of it, his nose was possibly broken. Jack was dazed and fell on his ass. Grant move to kick him in the jaw, but his teammates were now on him, grabbing his arms. And vice principal Thompson had arrived.

He looked around, vision still cloudy, not quite sure what had just happened. He surveyed the damage. A whole wall of lockers looked like it had been repeatedly slammed by a sledgehammer. The hall was packed with students, many of whom did not make it to their classes. It felt as if the whole school was watching them.