FSE

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Months passed since I started working as a male stripper.

Toddy Neon remained a steadily growing presence at the Desert Spice Saloon. As a young white fox dressed in an LED mask, the canine's allure and sexually charged movements helped him stand out amongst the more popular dancers.

Each night past 10:00 PM, my bare body would be on display for all of the horny, semi-closeted men and unabashedly lustful women to see. As Toddy Neon, my dancing became bolder and my confidence rising the more I placed that LED mask on my muzzle. Each time I walked onstage, the addicting thrill of hearing the crowd cheer and audibly leer at my snow-white fur and lithe limbs, dressed in only a BadPupper™ or VelvetFaux™ jockstrap, pulled me in a trance that made me forget who I was. In those moments, from the stage to the private dance sessions I'd slowly been acclimating into, the line between my secret identity and my dancer's identity started to become more pronounced. However, Toddy Neon's charisma and self-confidence had been bleeding into my regular life as Kevin Kramer.

For one, it led to me becoming more assertive at my day job, standing up for myself when a team leader angrily lectured at me for something a Karen complained about, then gaining the courage to ask the assistant manager for part-time work (since the Desert Spice Saloon worked better as a nighttime gig). When she refused, I somehow called her bluff and threatened to quit, and she conceded in changing my schedule. All in all, the change in job lifestyle came with its cons as well as its pros.

My student loans were no longer a problem with another job paying for the monthly payment plan. The (mostly) steady income from Mr. Fleischman helped bring my life to a relative normal. I could purchase groceries from more than just the one-dollar store, for one. The $800 bonus I got for doing a private dance lesson for a gay bachelor party helped me purchase a new flatscreen TV for my apartment to replace the one I'd pawned off, plus a decent laptop from online, as well as even some clothes or roleplay outfits for my Toddy Neon persona.

The parents did not suspect their own son worked at a strip club. I could never tell them the truth, instead telling them I had been given a raise at Buy-Mart. Mom visited out of the blue one day and came to my apartment, but I'd not expected her, and was thankful I'd taken the time to hide my more...risqué clothes out of view. The last thing I needed was explaining to her why I had a silver mankini, let alone multiple pairs of colorful jockstraps.

I did not like lying to the folks or my few friends about what I did for a nighttime job, but they left me no choice. Of all the bad things to happen in my life, having those in my personal life learn that I made money dancing naked in front of complete strangers...nobody would ever let me live it down. I especially feared meeting old acquaintances in the crowd.

Unfortunately for me, that day arrived one slow evening. It had been a federal holiday and most of Crossroads City were enjoying the beautiful night outside while only the Saloon's most loyal customers were inside. Once 10:00 PM rolled around and my half-hour onstage came and went, I'd been instructed to head inside one of the private dance booths for a VIP. While wearing the LED mask that made me so popular to begin with.

Walking in and I came face-to-face with a familiar goat; Joshua 'Josh' Danielson, a classmate who used to be a football jock at our high school. He wore a disheveled business suit and grew a beer belly, plus had unkempt facial fur and a drunken, lustful look in his eyes. The last I heard of Josh on social media, the boastful prick dropped a scholarship to Mountainburg University so he could marry his high school sweetheart. His wife had twin daughters seven months after their dream wedding, apparently. Then, a son not too long ago.

I felt my limbs grow stiff when we locked eyes. What was he of all furs doing at the Desert Spice Saloon? He got married, had cubs and seemed straighter than a wooden pencil.

"Murrrrr..." he chuckled in his velvet cushioned seat. "So, you're the Toddy Neon guy I saw onstage...mind getting that cute tush here?"

I complied, silently gyrating my jockstrap-clad rear back and forth atop his crotch.

"Wait..." he eventually spoke up, "I think that I recognize you. Are you Kevin Kramer?"

I remained quiet, but it did not work.

"Holy shit, I haven't seen you since high school," he baaed in amusement. "How you been?"

"O-Okay," I muttered after an awkward moment, then continued my routine by turning around and shaking my hips. The attempt at avoiding eye contact failed, and I slapped his paw away when it fondled my left butt cheek.

"Hey now, I paid good money for the full experience," he licked his lips, "I don't think you'd want, say, our old class learning you get paid to tease men, do you?"

The fear of losing my stable night job and letting Joshua Danielson molest me far outweighed any fear I held of letting the creep blackmail me. He would not scare me like that.

"I can't, Josh." My words were stone cold as I backed away. "I think you should leave."

"Oh, no, no, that's not how this is gonna work," he frowned while unzipping his fly.

Fortunately for me, I did not need to worry about backup. See, Mr. Fleischman distrusted his own employees and customers enough to place live security cameras in the private booths. Before Josh could so much as force me back down to my knees, one of the bouncers burst in and pulled me out.

Josh did not appreciate the interruption, "Hey! I'm paying here--"

He was subsequently yanked from the booth as well, albeit more forcefully than the protective bouncer putting himself between me and the unruly customer. Mr. Fleischman immediately stood in front of Josh with an extremely unimpressed, annoyed expression. Thank God, they let me watch the scene unfold alongside a few patrons not distracted enough by the other diva males onstage.

"I've had enough bullshit for one evening, so you're no longer allowed in here, sir."

"You can't do this to me, dude!" the goat tried acting tough in front of the burlier, older bear. "We didn't even do it yet!"

"You tried propositioning one of my boys while threatening to dox him, so fuck off or I'll have my men here make you fuck off."

"Nothing'll stop me from telling everyone who he is if you don't unban me!"

My heart skipped several beats. I felt my legs grow weak with horror. A few of the customers nearby glanced over at what was being said. I especially felt myself tremble at the way Josh's lecherous grin addressed over Gavin Fleischman's shoulder directly at me. But then, my boss pulled out his own trump card.

"Lemme hedge my bet then." Mr. Fleischman told, not said or asked of the goat, but simply told him. "Not only will I ban you from the Saloon's property indefinitely, but I'll also inform every strip joint from here to Washoe about a lecherous pervert who can't keep his paws to himself."

Josh's eyes became dinner plates, filled with horror. "N-No," he quavered, "you wouldn't! You can't! I can't exactly look at porn without my w--"

"Don't test me. I got 'em on quick speed dial!" The brown bear snarled at the smaller herbivore cowering away. "We club owners may be competitors, but we don't collectively tolerate behavior like this at our joints, and we'll all send letters to your home reminding you why you're banned from each premise. And I doubt your wife will be happy to find the reminders in your mailbox, will she?"

Minutes later and a disgruntled yet compliant Josh was escorted off the premises. My final words to the goat were, "Thank you for choosing the Desert Spice Saloon for all your needs."

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