FSE

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Oskar was awoken, as he always was on work days, by the sound of a saxophonist frantically molesting their instrument. The rabbit scowled, over the edge of the pillow his face was buried in. He hated jazz. This worked out well, for him, but it made every struggle out of bed a special exercise in aggression. He staggered over to the alarm (naturally placed on the other side of the room) and slammed down on the snooze button to silence K-TRG and its uptempo early morning playlist. Only once he had inflicted violence against his old alarm clock did he turn off the alarm, properly, and turn his stereo on to something actually appropriate for the early morning.

…members of the city council will vote on a proposal to…

He sighed in relief, but only momentarily. It was around that point that he noticed that, once again, the left hand side of the bed was empty. He knew what he would find, if he checked his phone, but that didn't stop Oskar from walking towards his nightstand.

…turning to international news…

There it was. The text message from Gina, his wife, telling him that she was “going to be held up at work, again." He put the phone down, determined not to think about it, and made his way towards the bathroom.

… due to an outbreak of Rayford Syndrome among delegates…

The temptation to take a long shower, now that he knew the hot water wasn't going to run out, was great. Almost as great as his desire to crawl back into bed and actually get enough sleep, for once. His vacation time could not come soon enough.

…Repeating a story in local news, a press statement by Acting Mayor Rochet has been released, seeking to clarify certain points of the newly passed Emergency Ordinance. In it, Rochet is quoted as saying…

Oskar didn't bother covering himself, as he walked out to grab his work clothes. There was no one around who would get offended, and he didn't really feel like he had much to cover. He, like many frazzled adults, lost the time and the inclination to go to the gym, his running shoes buried underneath piles of garbage in his closet. He hadn't gotten fat, per se (barring a little bit of a belly and a pliability beneath his scut tail). Rather he had just gotten soft. Less solid. More… average. He didn't particularly like it, when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, but more importantly he didn't hate it enough to try and make a change.

…encouraged to try and find private venues, when dealing with an emergence of symptoms. Relevant laws can, however, be suspended at the discretion of law enforcement when such measures cannot reasonably be taken. In sports news…

Oskar turned the radio off, tossing his Bean Bae cap on his head and making for the door. He was going to be early for the train if he kept this pace up, and in the shower he had apparently decided that that was a worthy goal for him to ascribe to, today.

---

Oskar normally chose roughly the same spot, every morning. Last car in the train, towards the back, one of the spots where he could stand. It was relatively quiet, inasmuch as the old clattering steel box could be considered “quiet," and he was free to spend his commute dutifully staring off at the passing subway tunnel lights, and not acknowledging anybody else.

Unfortunately, sometimes that plan ran into snags. His idea that the furthest corner of the train might afford him some time to himself was a thought commonly held by other people. One in particular, a haggard opossum in black everything popped into the train on its next stop, looking at Oskar with a sense of profound frustration. Was he mad at Oskar, for standing there, or at the universe for putting the two of them on the same train? Whatever the case, the opossum apparently decided he would take the loss on the chin, settling into the spot directly across from Oskar.

Right away, Oskar knew something was wrong with his fellow traveler. The first giveaway was the fact that the opossum was doing everything in his power to pretend that nothing was wrong. He acknowledged Oskar. With a smile and a wave, no less. That was not something you did on the train, by any sense of the imagination. Doing that caused passengers to pay attention. In the rabbit's case, paying attention only made him all the more aware how hollow that smile was. The opossum wasn't happy. He was tired. Tired and stressed out and, Oskar could guess, probably better served calling out of work. He looked uncomfortably warm, under the layers of cotton and distressed denim, and underneath the eye bags and the dollar store mascara his eyes were unfocused. Dilated. Combined with the subtle, but noticeable rise and fall of his chest, it almost seemed like…

Oskar pursed his lips. He knew what he was going to see, if he looked down. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he did so, anyway.

It was difficult to see, under the layers and tucked away in the opossum's baggy jeans, but after a moment Oskar was perfectly capable of seeing the outline of the stranger's erection. He looked up into the man's eyes.

The opossum, realizing he was found out, seemed to wither a bit. “S-sorry, bro," he whispered, no longer making an effort to hide how desperate he found his situation. “I can't… I can't stop it."

Oskar looked away, down towards the front of the train. As he had counted on, there were only a handful of people here, with them. Everyone else was on their phone, or staring off into the middle distance. The train hadn't yet made it onto the bridge. It would be a hot minute before his stop came up. Oskar's fingers tightened around the strap, his other hand brushing against the small bump in his right-hand pocket. Of course, he thought to himself. Of course he would have to deal with something like this, while he's on the way to work. Sighing, he turned to the opossum. “Hey," he whispered, sharply.

The opossum looked up, mouth slightly open.

Oskar gave the rest of the train car one last look, to make sure everybody else was dutifully trapped in their own heads. Then, he motioned to his side, subtly, with a flick of his head. “Get over here. On my right."

The opossum wasn't sure if he could believe what he was hearing. The best that he had expected was that they would both pretend like everything was fine, look in opposite directions, and let him slink off in shame, so he could hide in the restrooms. That being said, the hammering in the opossum's chest prevented him from thinking about this any more than he had to. Quickly, and a bit too furtively, he transferred to the other side of the train. The bulge in his pants was only kept at bay by the way he had been standing; now that the jig was up, he was straining his pants and threatening Oskar's thigh with an urgency that Oskar wouldn't have thought could ever be hidden.

Oskar stepped forward, trying to block the opossum's body with his own, as much as possible. The opossum's right side hung out, and at least three people down the car had line of sight, but as long as the stranger didn't try to do anything with his right hand, it would be fine. His free hand trailed back. He did not need to use his eyes to find the target. He only needed to follow the needy heat that radiated out from the stranger's crotch. A hissing inhale confirmed that he was about to touch something sensitive. The opossum shuffled; out of the corner of his eye, Oskar could see him reaching for his fly.

With his right hand, of course.

“Don't," Oskar warned. “I can't block that side of you."

“What?" the opossum gasped.

“Just… let me do it." Oskar leaned back, cupping the stranger's crotch with his free hand. “Try and keep your voice down, and your eyes forward. We're just strangers on the train."

“O-okay…" It was clear he was trying his best to keep quiet, but apparently he couldn't help the grunt of anxious relief, when the zipper was undone and he was finally let out into the open air. Oskar kept his expression level and his eyes firmly out the window, which meant he was getting an idea of the opossum's cock purely by feel. It was weighty, and took up a good portion of his hand. Obviously bigger than Oskar's. If he was in any way into dick, he might have been impressed.

After a few squeezes, he leaned his head back, slightly. “Grab the handle with your other hand."

“What?"

Oskar sighed. “I need you to reach into my back pocket, but you gotta use your left hand. Swap it out. Be casual."

The opossum's motions, as he reached for the strap with his right hand and let his left fall, was about as casual as planting a bomb. “O-okay, I did it. Back pocket, you said?"

Oskar turned his rear towards the stranger. “Cheek closest to you. You see it?"

“Fuuuuck…" Even without looking, the rabbit could practically feel the stranger's eyes, trying to stare a hole in his slacks.

“Focus," Oskar growled, quietly. “Back pocket closest to you. There's something in there. Can you see?"

“Uh, yeah. Yeah."

“Grab it."

Awkwardly, the opossum reached his hand out. It took him a couple tries, with the train jostling about, but eventually he was able to get his slender fingers into the pocket. A bit more fumbling around, and he was able to pull out the little plastic bottle with the thick, clear liquid in it. “Hey… hey, is this…?"

“Yeah." Oskar didn't explain any further. Instead, he held his hand back, palm up, and said. “Come on, hurry up."

Oskar heard the snap of the cap as it popped open. Then, something cold and slick fell into his palm. Oskar waited a moment, and then reached back again. With slow, circular movements, he slicked the liquid onto the stranger's cock. The stranger tried to keep his voice down to a strangled whine.

For a few minutes, the two stood there in relative silence. The noise of the train covered up the crackle of lubricant, the sounds of heavier-than-normal breathing. Out of the corner of his eye, Oskar kept track of what the other passengers were looking at. Crucially, it was anything other than him. Nothing but the subtle flex of his muscles, around his shoulders, would give away the rhythmic motion of his hand. Even so, it was good to see that nobody was looking close enough to notice.

“Oh, fuck…" The opossum's breath started to hitch, ominously. “Hey… I think I'm gonna…"

“Better not get it on me," Oskar replied, angling the opossum's cock down towards the floor as his strokes continued.

The stranger closed his eyes. To his credit, barely a noise made its way out of his mouth. Oskar only knew he had gone over the edge by a near-inaudible shudder of the breath, followed by the lewd, lurching motions of a man emptying his balls. Seed drummed onto the floor, close enough to Oskar's feet that he could almost feel the vibrations. After the third pump, something hot dribbled out onto his index finger and thumb, followed by more as the stranger's orgasm petered out.

“Hey," he whispered, behind him. “How you feel? You gonna be good?"

“Yeah," replied the stranger, hesitantly. Then, more confidently, he said “Yeah. It's going down, and my chest doesn't feel tight anymore." A quiet snap of plastic. “You, uh… you want this back?"

“Keep it." Oskar wiped his hand off on the side of the stranger's jeans. “I don't think the Syndrome comes back, but just in case."

“Uh… guess that makes sense." There was an awkward shuffling noise, as the opossum stuffed himself back in his pants. Around that time, the subway was slowing at one of its stops, so he decided to make his retreat as soon as the doors opened. “Thanks, bro. You're a lifesaver."

“Don't mention it," Oskar said to the retreating figure, muttering under his breath “seriously."

The train accelerated. Oskar watched the sign pass by the window.

He cursed under his breath.

That was his stop.

---

Bean Bae was one those distinctly “local" places that had long since broken into the double-digit number of locations, and whose owners dreamed of the day when they'd go public. Its walls were decorated with kitschy motivational posters extolling the virtue of “seizing the day" and “following your dreams." The employees were encouraged to decorate their aprons with any sort of cute, colorful pin they could get their hands on.

The manager, a middle-aged weasel with laugh lines she got anywhere except at her job, had enough metal and enamel on her body to stop a bullet. Surprisingly, being covered from neck to thigh in pastel colors did very little to improve her daily mood. She was pleasant enough, as a boss and as a worker. She said hi, she smiled, she listened when people tried to make idle conversation. There was simply a limit to how happy one could be, when they worked at Bean Bae. That was no more true than now, when the inoffensive last-decade pop jams on the building's stereo was punctuated by the full-throated sounds of two strangers in the bathroom, moaning and grunting.

Oskar had hoped that he could slip by and clock in, without the weasel noticing. His hopes were in vain. “You're late," she said, matter-of-factly.

“Sorry, Janine," he replied, with a sigh. “Got held up on the train this morning." Stepping away from the time clock, he walked over to the sink. One ear pointed off in the direction of the noises. “How long have they been…?"

Janine shook her head, with a bitter sigh. “I dunno. Since a little after eight. Should be done any minute now." She took a step away, bagging up a customer's order. Turning back, she added, “You're cleaning up after them."

“Yeah, that's fair."

“Yup." She stepped away, craning her head to look at a mortified cat. “Samantha?"

Oskar pulled his hands out from the water, shook them dry, and sighed.

So began another ordinary day.