FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Line

Book 2

Part 1

"Oh, my god, Roger!" A nude, very well-toned male feline exclaimed in horror when the ferret removed his shirt. "What the fuck did you do to yourself?"

"What are you talking about, Jordan?" Roger said, he looked down at his torso expecting to see something wrong.

"This. Right. Here!" Jordan said as he framed an invisible box over the ferret's belly with his paws to highlight the issue.

"What's wrong with that?" Roger asked, feeling confused.

"You officially have a pooch!" The orange tabby cat accused as he pinched some loose flesh above Roger's belt line.

"The fuck I do!" Roger retorted as he swatted away the feline's prodding paw. "I gained five pounds at the most."

"Five pounds my ass!" The cat said, placing his paws on his hips judgmentally. "You better stay off the poles, you might break them." He was completely unabashed about his brazen nudity, his semi erect penis jutting out in front of him. Though considering how well-endowed Jordan was for a feline, Roger couldn't very well blame him.

"Okay, I admit it." Roger said while he stretched his bruised shoulder. "I might have put on a few extra pounds and I haven't had a chance to exercise, but it's not all my fault. Everywhere I've been going for the last month people feel the instinctive need to feed me." The ferret smirked as he unbuckled his belt. "Besides, you'd still do me even if I had a beer belly."

Jordan grimaced at the mental image before shrugging and nodding concession. "Yeah, I would." He grinned. "It's great to have you back, babe."

"Good to be back." Roger said as he dropped his pants. It really was good to be back. There's only so much funeral shit a guy can put up with before he wants to get back to the familiar humdrum of life. His only concern was that he left Julie alone at home. She had assured him she would be okay and she was certainly old enough to look after herself for a few hours. He told her he could call off work if she needed him to, but she assured him that she would not mind a few hours to catch up on some social networking. To that end Roger gave her access to his computer. He made sure to leave a phone number that she could reach him at and have a pizza delivered before going to work. She should be fine, but he still felt a little guilty. No, not really guilty. More like yearning. It felt wrong to be apart from her.

The feline checked him out for a second, noticing his distinct lack of arousal. "You, uh, you need a fluff, do you?" Jordan asked with a hopeful tinge in his voice.

"In all the years we've worked together have I ever needed a fluff?" Roger asked with irritation.

Jordan put his paws up. "Hey, there's always a first time. You're not getting any younger."

"Get off my lawn!" Roger growled at him.

Roger was the "old cock" at work. He wasn't the oldest fur working there. Steve, the owner, was much older, as was the bartender, but Roger was the oldest dancer. Both in age and in years employed. He had some seniority because of that. He had access to the best stage times and could choose who he worked with, if any.

"Sure you don't want to double tonight?" Jordan asked.

"Absolutely not." Roger said. Jordan knew that Roger would not break character on stage, and in situations in the past where he doubled with him the feline took advantage of the situation. Not to say that they didn't work the crowd well together, but Jordan would push it to levels that were wholly inappropriate.

"I'm doing singles tonight and that's that."

"You're no fun."

"You can put that on my tombstone." Roger tossed him a tube of fur cream. "You want to have fun? Do my back for me."

Jordan grinned lecherously and squirted a palmful of the cream on his paw. Despite his persistent advances, the tabby was professional and quickly went to work managing the fur down the ferret's back, working the cream in with his paws and styling it with a comb to accentuate the muscles and give the fur a glossy, slicked back, wet look. When he was satisfied with the flow of fur on Roger's back he did the tail. Afterwards blowing a warm fur dryer over him to help set the product. Roger did the fur on his arms and down his chest while looking in the mirror. He gave a sigh when working around his belly, coaxing the fur to try to hide the bit of extra weight.

Can't put off exercise anymore, guess I gotta suck it in a little more than normal.

Roger put a paw on his crotch, a touch disappointed that his pecker was soundly sleeping in the sheath. Having an erection wasn't necessary when working on the stage, but years of experience showed that it vastly improved the tips if he looked "happy". He played with himself some, fully aware that he was putting on a show for his coworker.

Jordan sat down on a chair to take it all in. "I'm here if you need me." He said.

"Shut up." Roger grumbled at him. He hadn't taken any more of those pills, but the residual of the first one he took must still be in his system. "Let me concentrate."

"Should come natural, babe." The feline said. "Don't know what you need to think about." He stood up and bent over the chair with his ass toward Roger, spreading his ass cheek with one paw. "If you need some visual assistance, ol' winky here never disappoints." Jordan said proudly.

"You aren't helping." Roger said, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of looking and trying not to laugh.

"Are you sure?" Jordan asked. "I just had her bleached and everything."

The door to the dressing room opened and a skunk poked his head in. Roger quickly stopped what he was doing.

"Hey, Rog, I got you on in fifteen." The skunk said. "You gonna be ready to go?"

"Sure thing, Steve."

Steve scowled at Jordan, who was still bent over with his tail in the air. "Why aren't you on the floor?"

"I'm helping Roger get ready." The tabby said as he put his head down on the seat of the chair and waved his tush.

"Of course you are." The skunk rolled his eyes. "You got two minutes to strap on a hammock and get your twink ass on the floor. I got a packed house and two brew bimbos called off for the night. The customers are getting dry." With that he slammed the door behind him.

"I'm a stage bimbo, thank-you-very-much." Jordan told the closed door while flipping it off.

"Yikes, demoted to the floor." Roger chuckled. "What did you do to piss him off this time?"

"Oh, the usual." Jordan explained as he gave up displaying anus and slipped on a clean g-string. "Bitched out the DJ for playing the wrong song, let the cute customers get too gropey... slept with his son."

Roger narrowed his eyes at the feline, trying to gauge how serious he was about that last part. The cat just laughed.

"Crazy shit happens here when you aren't around to stop it." He told Roger.

"I had no idea his son swung that way."

Jordan opened the door to leave. "Neither did his son." He said with a grin that clearly indicated that he was one cat that got the cream.

With the feline gone Roger could turn his attention fully to working up an erection. He kneaded his balls and ran a paw lightly up the sheath to stimulate the more sensitive regions. No luck.

Perhaps I should have taken him up on the fluff.

The ferret let his mind wander. He thought of tits, pussy and getting blowjobs from someone without a cock. None of it appeared to be much help. In frustration he rubbed his nose. His sinuses picked up the minute odor of his niece that stubbornly refused to be washed away. He could feel a soft tingle running down his belly and to his groin.

This is so wrong. Roger chastised himself. Even so, it was working. He allowed his mind to recall his earlier interaction with Julie. The feel of her. The scent of her. That wide-eyed, innocent look on his niece's face as she rode out her first orgasm. An orgasm that he had provided. He ran his paw down his belly to his groin to find everything in working order. His penis stood out, eager for work.

With practiced ease Roger slipped on a snug cock ring, looping it under his scrotum. Helping everything stand up and out and maintain it through the performance. He slid on a pair of deep red thongs that had a sparkling luster, fitting his package in front of the mirror to make sure it was, as Jordan would say; al dente.

He quickly dressed himself. Red pointed boots with a little lift in the heels. Garish breakaway pants and shirt. A cape, gloves, a wide brimmed hat, and of course, a sequined mask.

Ramiro el Ladrillo was a stage persona that Roger used for years that has gained a passionate following with the regulars. Originally a joke, it evolved into an entire character distinct from who the ferret really was. Outlandish, boisterous, and unabashedly bisexual. Ramiro was, as Roger was fond of noting, not just a power top, but a superhero top. Hence the Lone Ranger style mask with el Ladrillo flair.

Roger looked himself over in the mirror. While he actually did have a Lone Ranger outfit, he had decided to go with his Scarlet Pimpernel costume. Flashy, very gaudy, and truth be told, took a lot more inspiration from the Daffy Duck cartoon than the classic novel.

Pleased with what he saw, Roger snapped his heels together.

"Olé." He said with a flourish of his paw. The door opened again and Steve caught the ferret striking the pose in front of the mirror.

"All right," the skunk said with approval, "looking good. It's almost time, are you ready to go?"

Roger picked up a blunt tipped fencing foil from the corner. A prop that also happened to work with his Zorro outfit. With a wide swipe of the weapon he made as to sheath it at his side.

"Ramiro el Ladrillo is no slave to time." He insisted with an over-the-top Spanish accent. "Time, she wait for el Ladrillo."

Steve chuckled. "Okay, right." He said. "The DJ was wondering what song you wanted?"

Roger thought for a second. "Raspberry Beret." He suggested, dropping the accent. "And mic me up, I want to get crazy."

"You got it, bro."

Hey! Guess what? I have a Ko-fi page now!