FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I woke up early in the morning, sporting an incredible dog bone.

My first instinct was to jerk myself off until the post-nut clarity kicked in. However, experience reminded me not to do it, I had to settle for my fingers giving the leaky red tip a few good tugs instead. Just enough sensation to temporarily give me a good fix. Jacking off before work meant getting tired easier.

So, I did my normal routine; I showered, making sure each part of my muscles body and dense fur was scrubbed absolutely cleaned, then drank some OJ with a healthy portion of eggs and grits. Afterwards, I exited my apartment and drove to work. During the entire drive across town, I could feel the upper half of my work clothes attracting the attention of several passerby and the drivers from neighboring cars. I earned quite a few flirtatious honking noises along the way.

My workplace was already busy by the time I entered through the back door. Customers were gawking and marvel leg at the various dildos and adult memorabilia on the first floor, while on the second floor, customers with intent to purchase—or 'rent', as corporate management insisted that it be called—searched through digital catalogs and holographic displays of their potential service tops. On the third floor though, the line for which stretched all the way down to the second along a grand staircase, I could tell it would be a long day. Thankfully, I didn't need to pass by the bustling line of horny customers. I had a private elevator that brought me up to the third-floor section of the store.

Once upon a time, society changed due to an unnatural disaster. Out of nowhere, an unknown virus emerged across the globe, reaching every level of society. Unlike the previous pandemic though, nobody died, but nothing was ever the same again.

The virus changed our immune system in a strange way. Without delving too much into the hard science behind it all, what it did was affect a mammalian body's ability to to keep needing stimulation in the lower orifices. So, my company provides different releases.

Sure, there still existed prudes. Most of them grew silent though once the new public decency laws passed, dildos became medical tools, service tops were no longer considered prostitution, workplaces allowed 'sexual breaks' for their employees, and it all caused the global economy to recover.

The three-story building used to be a large, luxury department store connected to the local shopping mall. The company it was owned by even used to fund the city's annual parades. Once the global crisis started though, it became one of the many giants to be slain by economic plight, and the iconic building was sold off multiple times. The corporation and eventually purchased it for permanent use was a then-emerging start-up that would not only help solve the crisis but revolutionize the market.

My badge clocked me inside, then signaled that my shift had begun. I casually waltzed from the employee locker room several minutes later, attracting the eyes of new customers and earning the winks of returning ones, then stepped up onto my circular platform. I didn't know if anyone could see me blushing beneath the leather mask, but they certainly noticed the effect it had on my boner. Already, it hardened obscenely into a tent within the confines of the silk jockstrap, stretching the letters in the printed phrase 'service top'.

Seconds passed as soon as the curtain unveiled around the platform. Before I knew it, an eager but patient line of potential customers formed in front of me, some diluted from the other lines of customers standing in front of other sample tops. Together, we stood tall and performed different poses that showcased our masculine physiques and how virile we could be for buyers.

Now, not only did my company sell products to assist in combating the virus that created our Brave New World, but I got a spectacular job. As a sample service top, I never needed to do retail work again, not after I sent in my resume for the open position. For the foreseeable future, my bosses paid me three-hundred dollars per hour to keep up my physique at home and spend forty-five hours a week letting customers either molest me or examine me like a hunk of meat hanging in a freezer.

The customers, plenty of them men as well as women, loved tracing their fingers and palms on every inch of my body. They adored stroking my thigh and exploring the curves of my ten-pack abdomen that could be skated on. At least two women visibly drooled as they studied my gluteus maximus. A very bold college student pulled and toyed with my jockstrap fabric like it were a garter belt on a bride, whistling when they got a thorough glimpse of my cock within its confines. More than twenty times a day, I would feel a stray finger tease my lubed tail hole or a paw stumble underneath the pouch of my jockstrap, and hard gropes that made me wonder if anybody came to buy anything.

Several customers liked to weigh my heavy balls through the soft fabric, squeeze one of both of my solid pecs and occasionally pinch a nipple just to get a reaction from me. Sometimes, I barely flinched from the attention. Other times, if I felt certain that the customer truly wanted to buy a service top for themselves, I would thrust my powerful hips forward or wag my tail in a lascivious manner. That almost always made them blush harder than me. I also liked to think it did the job too, because every so often, I would spot that same customer signing paperwork at one of the kiosks. Then, they'd leave with one of the tops in tow.

Unlike the few remaining prudes still picketing outside, I didn't consider it demeaning. All I needed to do was wear nothing but my red-and-black harness and a similarly colored jockstrap—both of which read 'service top' along with the company logo— and let total strangers fondle or drool over me. No sex involved. That was for the regular service tops rented out to customers that needed that itch scratched.

At some point, I considered signing up as a service top. It would require time and training though. Until then, I felt perfectly content to keep being the sample service product.