FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

This is a story based on a picture Aaron did (FA). He may make a mini-comic out of the story he likes the most.

This isn't the complete story, but I'm kind of reluctant to continue writing it without having more specifics about the character. I really hate writing a character somebody else created, only to screw it up or have them doing or saying things they shouldn't be.

So... the ending is kind of open. Use your (dirty, dirty, dirty) imagination.

* * *

Jeff stood nervously in front of the professor's desk. The nineteen-year-old Rottweiler didn't look like he'd have much to be nervous about. As physically fit as an Olympian, the purebred's chiseled muscles were easily visible under his tight t-shirt and blue jeans.

A sophomore at the college and an up-and-coming linebacker on the football team, he depended on his sports scholarship to cover most of his tuition. Unfortunately, a combination of gambling debts, multiple jobs to pay off those debts, and the partying-slash-socializing expected of him as a sports star meant his grades were slipping. Even in Ethics 201, considered to be an easy course to blow through, he was in danger of flunking.

Hence the situation the brown-furred canine found himself in, standing in front of his professor, a dragon named Mr. White. Mr. White was intimidating. Always excessively casual thanks to well-earned tenure, the professor always requested to be referred to as "Mister," not "Professor." He was tall, probably a half-foot taller than the 6-foot-three Rottweiler. He was also in incredible shape himself and served as the gymnastics coach when he wasn't teaching his philosophy courses. He was considered very highly in both of his positions at the school.

Rumors also surrounded the dragon, Jeff knew. The exact nature of the rumors always changed, but the most popular involved the time he went on a trip with the basketball team when one of the regular chaperones suddenly fell ill. Three players â€" supposedly â€" slept with him in a single night.

Jeff rubbed his right foot against the back of his left leg awkwardly. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder. He adjusted his baseball cap self-consciously as Mr. White stared at him.

"Jeff, thanks for staying late to see me," the dragon said, leaning back in his chair. He was wearing a plaid button-up, which tucked into a pair of loose-fitting blue jeans. He had mild green scales that faded to white around his muzzle and eyes. No horns, but a head of dark black hair. He didn't breathe fire, but Jeff could swear his skin was burning as he stood under the reptile's glare.

"No problem, Mr. White," he said.

"You're a smart enough guy," the dragon continued. "You've been doing well. Now, all of the sudden, your grades have tanked over the last quarter. What's up?" The dragon looked at Jeff over the rims of his narrow glasses.

Jeff looked down at the floor, feeling guilty. The late nights at the blackjack tables came back to him, reminding him again of his stupidity as he watched himself lose money hand over fist in his head.

"Uh... well, it's just been a rough semester," he said lamely.

"Go on."

"Um... I had to get a second job to cover... uh, expenses," the Rottweiler said, shifting from foot to foot.

"Your scholarship isn't paying the bills?"

"No, sir."

"Hmm." The dragon tapped his fingers on the desk. Jeff swallowed nervously. "And you're already working one job?"

"Yeah, I help out the coaches with their bookkeeping through work study," Jeff said. "I just got another job in the evenings at the cafeteria. And with practice every day, I just don't have time anymore to do a good job on my homework."

"But you have enough time to go out to the clubs and bars, yes?"

Jeff's eyes widened. "No! I mean, I have to... it's... I don't know, it's expected," Jeff said, a note of panic in his voice. "I mean, if I don't, the other guys, they don't take you seriously, you know?"

"Hmm."

Jeff could feel himself growing red with embarrassment under the dragon's thoughtful gaze.

"Jeff, you're a sophomore, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you're expecting to keep your scholarship all four years?"

"I'm going to try."

"I really don't want to fail you in my course, Jeff-"

"Thank you, sir."

"-but if you don't change your ways, I'll have no choice, understand?"

"I just don't know what else I can do," Jeff said, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.

Mr. White smiled toothily. "Maybe I can help you with that."

Jeff looked up at the grinning dragon. "Yeah?"

"It will depend on you, of course, but I may be able to support you financially, for a time, enough so you can quit your jobs In order to focus on football and school. You'd help me out at my home once or twice a week in the evenings."

Jeff nodded happily. "Oh, that'd be great, but what why would you do that?"

Mr. White's smile broadened. "Well, let's just say I have an interest in you," the dragon said. "I'd like to see you remain at this school and in my courses. Of course, this agreement would have to be very hush-hush. It doesn't look good when teachers give students money, obviously."

Jeff nodded. "Obviously."

"Additionally, this... job... would be quid pro quo. I give a little, you give a little, understand?"

"Sure, Mr. Whtie! Anything to get myself back in the game, you know?"

"We'll see. Again, this position is entirely up to you. If you're interested, come by my place tonight around, say, 6:30."

Mr. White scribbled his address on a sheet of paper and handed it to Jeff, who took it gratefully. The thought of asking exactly what he'd be required to do didn't even cross his mind â€" he was just excited about the opportunity to ditch the two boring jobs he'd had to take on. He stuffed the paper in his pocket and nodded vigorously.

"I'll be there at 6:30 sharp," he said, the short stub of his tail wagging furiously behind him where it just stuck out of his tight blue jeans.

"Perfect. I'll see you then, Jeff," Mr. White said, sitting back up in his chair. "You better get to your next class â€" tell your teacher I'd kept you."

Jeff nodded again and left the room all smiles. Mr. White watched him go, chin on his palm, eyes not leaving the younger male's perfectly formed ass.

"I love my job," the dragon said, sighing happily.

* * *

Jeff sailed through the rest of his day, all smiles, even through football practice. He didn't tell anyone about Mr. White's offer, remembering he could get them both in trouble if he said anything about it. It did seem unusual, and he thought back to the rumors he'd heard about the dragon. But that's probably all they were, he thought to himself. Just rumors... the guy just needs help doing yard work or something.

After Jeff showered and dressed in the locker rooms when practice finished, he jogged to his car, an old beater his parents bought him after high school. He didn't drive much, so it was fine for his needs, though he wasn't going to be impressing girls with it anytime soon.

Jeff sometimes was jealous of a few other members of the football team, the ones with rich parents, nice cars, no need for jobs. Still, Jeff couldn't fault his upbringing. He'd learned the value of hard work, though he was still ashamed of how much money he'd been losing at the gambling tables.

Mr. White didn't live far from campus. Jeff whistled softly as he pulled up to the impressive wrought-iron gate at the end of a long driveway. He buzzed the intercom and the gates slowly swung open. Moss-covered walls traveled around the estate in either direction.

Jeff pulled in up to the house, a huge mansion at least a century old. The Rottweiler had no idea Mr. White was so well off. What was the guy doing teaching philosophy at a college?

He parked his car on the gravel round-a-bout circling a large stone fountain and got out. The house was very Victorian, with large steeples and vaulted windows. He went up the steps to the large front door, one of the wooden ones with two sides, and knocked. He could hear it echo through the foyer on the other side.

A minute later, Mr. White opened the door, all smiles.

"Jeff! Glad you made it. Find the place alright?" he asked, opening the door wide and motioning Jeff inside.

"Yeah, I found it fine," the canine said, stepping into the foyer, eyes taking in the luxurious marble floor and carpets. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling. In front, a large staircase heading upstairs. Hallways went off in three other directions.

"Just leave your jacket anywhere," Mr. White said, closing the door behind them. "Want anything to drink?"

"Uh... I'm only 20, sir," Jeff said, still gazing around.

"And you've never drank? I find that hard to believe," Mr. White said, chuckling. "I'll make us some gin and tonics, how about that?"

"Uh... sure."

"Let's go into the study to talk about your job and see if you're still interested," the dragon said. He nodded towards the hallway in front of them, across the foyer. The large staircase split around the open doors. A flickering fireplace cast yellow light out into the foyer.

Inside the study, Jeff grinned. The room was huge and elegant, like what else he'd seen of the house. Overstuffed leather chairs and couches, a full bar along one wall, the huge fireplace, and an ornate wooden coffee table all gave the wood-paneled room a hefty dose of class.

"Mr. White, how'd you get such a nice place?"

"Family money," the dragon said, heading towards the bar. "Inherited the house. Never had much use for it. I haven't been in most of it for a decade now." He started pouring the drinks. "Have a seat, I'll be right there."

Jeff sat down on the big couch by the fire, enjoying his surroundings. The fire was very soothing. But then a thought struck him.

"Mr. White? Why do you need help with the house? I didn't see a lot of the lawn, but it looked pretty clean. Same on the inside."

The dragon walked over and handed him a glass. Ice cubes clinked against the sides. "Help with the house? No, no, that's not what I'm hiring you for."

Jeff took the glass and waited for Mr. White to sit down. "Well... I mean, what do you need me to do then? If you're paying me to work for you, I want to make sure you get your money's worth."

"I'm very glad to hear that, Jeff," Mr. White said, taking a small sip of his drink. His soft lips smacked together satisfyingly. "No, I don't want to hire you to do menial chores. I want to hire you for your body."

Jeff was in mid sip. He sputtered into the glass. "What?"

Mr. White smiled coolly. "You heard me."

"I'm not... I'm not gay!"

"That doesn't matter," the dragon said, taking another sip of his drink. He cast a calculating glance at the shocked Rottweiler. "I'll give you $1,000 a week for your services, gay or straight."

When Mr. White mentioned the money, Jeff felt his second big shock of the night. A thousand bucks a week? That was a lot of money. Common sense said he should turn it down and leave immediately, of course, but the other part of him would really like to get $1,000 a week. He could get a new car, hit the clubs without ever running dry, keep his tuition paid off...

"Of course, I have certain other conditions," the dragon said, breaking Jeff's train of thought.

"What do you mean?"

"Either of us can end our arrangement at any time for any reason and, of course, this agreement would be held in the highest secrecy by both of us," the dragon said, staring at Jeff again. The Rottweiler's fur tingled under the older male's gaze. "You'll be here two or three times a week, on days of my choice. You'll maintain a 3.5 GPA or better during our arrangement. And you'll do whatever I say."

Jeff swallowed nervously and fingered his cold glass, holding it with both palms as he thought about Mr. White's offer. It sounded pretty good... and he wanted to get his grades back up anyways. But doing whatever Mr. White said?

"And, before I forget, I will pay you bonuses for your... cooperation. When you have performed admirably," the dragon said. "As a show of my good faith..."

The dragon leaned back in his chair as he nodded at a manila envelope on the coffee table.

Jeff's head was still swimming as he picked it up and opened it. He let out a gasp. Inside were $100 bills.

"Fifteen-hundred dollars. It's yours, whether you agree to work for me or not," Mr. White said. "I do want you to be able to focus in school, whether we come to an agreement here tonight or not." The dragon's face was impassive as he waited for Jeff to respond.

The Rottweiler was in a state of near-panic. He wasn't gay. He wasn't interested in guys. Sure, he'd admired his teammates in the locker room showers, but that was professional. Right? Besides, Mr. White wanted to pay him to be a prostitute. He wasn't a prostitute! Even though the only reason he got to college in the first place was on the back of a scholarship, one he only received because of his... body.

Conflicting emotions ran through him, but as he looked down at the money â€" more cash than he'd ever seen in one place before â€" he came to a decision.

"I'll do it."

"Excellent." The dragon took another sip of his drink as the firelight glanced off his smooth scales and tousled black hair. "Take off your shirt."

"What?" Jeff asked, confused.

"Take off your shirt," the dragon repeated, inflection not changing.

Jeff nodded,r ealizing the dragon was expecting him to start his new job, so to speak, right away. "Uh... okay."

The Rottweiler gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled upwards. He wore only fur underneath. Dark fur faded to light brown over his abdomen and chest. As he pulled the shirt off all the way, he felt a twinge in his jeans and a thought he quickly suppressed. This was a job, he told himself. Nothing more.

"And," he thought firmly, "I am not gay. At all."

He chanced a glance at the dragon. Mr. White was impassive as he watched, occasionally sipping from his drink. He could feel the other male's eyes on him, though. He shivered.

Mr. White was indeed watching. The dragon's eyes drifted across Jeff's broad, thick shoulders and cut chest, each pec perfectly formed. The Rottweiler's abdomens were impressively deep and fully formed. Even the sophomore's obliques were perfect, creating a thick ridge that led down into his jeans.

Mr. White licked his lips. "Stand up."

Jeff did, a little nervously, wondering if this really was a smart idea.

"Flex."

Jeff again followed the dragon's instructions, feeling just a little silly and self-conscious as he curled his biceps impressively.

"Very nice... turn around."

Jeff stared at the wall ahead of him after turning around, keeping his arms flexed. He tried not to think of anything at all, but it was hard. He could almost feel Mr. White's eyes poring over him.

The dragon sipped his drink, causing the half-melted ice cubes to clink against the sides of the glass. Jeff flinched reflexively.

"Drop the pants."

Jeff's jaw tightened and he hesitated. Was this really worth it? His eyes shot down to the envelope on the couch. The corners of a few bills poked out the top.

Yes. Yes, it was.

The canine undid his belt and slipped his jeans down, then stepped out of them. He regretted his choice of underwear that day - a jock strap-like affair that he preferred over boxers.

He blushed as he heard the dragon let out a low whistle. "Very, very nice... give us another flex..."

Still blushing, Jeff did as asked, feeling his body tighten up instinctively. He tried to imagine he was back in his dorm room, in front of the mirror checking himself out. It didn't help - he was all too aware he was in a strange, beautiful old house in front of one of his teachers, with an envelope full of money on the couch in front of him.

"Turn, please."

Jeff slowly spun around, lowering his hands to his sides. He rested his palms on top of his thick, powerful thighs. He wanted to cover up his front, to keep some of his modesty, but he knew that would only make him feel even sillier than he already felt. The underwear cupped his balls and sheath - an impressive set, by any standard - quite firmly and tightly, leaving little to the imagination. Jeff felt another twinge and ground his jaw tightly, resolutely ignoring it.

He looked over at Mr. White, who was staring appreciatively at him. The front of the dragon's jeans, the Rottweiler noticed, was showing a definite bulge. A large one, at that. He tried not to think about it, firmly squashing any of those kinds of thoughts down into the back of his head, and stared at the wall behind Mr. White resolutely.

"Mmm-mm-mm," the dragon said, smiling. "Wonderful..."

As Mr. White sipped his drink, Jeff watched the last few drops pour into the dragon's muzzle. Mr. White set the glass down before nodding at Jeff.

"That will be all. Get dressed, you can show yourself out."

Jeff started. "Um... that's it?"

"For tonight, yes."

"Uh... okay, then." The canine leaned over and stepped into his pants, pulling them up quickly. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on before picking up the belt and, feeling another embarrassed blush coming on, the envelope.

"Why don't you come back on Wednesday," the dragon said as Jeff headed awkwardly for the door. The Rottweiler paused.

"That is," Mr. White continued, "if our arrangement is still in place then."

Jeff thought about what the dragon had said. He could end it at any time. So could Mr. White. So... what the hell. If all the dragon wanted was to perv out over his body, he could live with that. Especially for a thousand bucks a week.

"I'll see you Wednesday," Jeff said, and rushed out the door.

Mr. White smiled after the Rottweiler had gone. He stood up and walked to the bar, making himself another drink, as he felt his erection bulge outwards against the fabric of his loose jeans. That boy was going to be fun...

* * *

It was Wednesday. Six o'clock. Jeff stared at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to his bed, deep in thought.

He only had class with Mr. White on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It had been awkward in class today. For Jeff, at least. The Rottweiler sat in the back, silent the entire period. Mr. White had fortunately not called on him for any questions. Besides that small favor, the dragon had acted like nothing was different than any other day.

Jeff hated how the teacher could act so cool, while he found himself blushing furiously the whole hour.

Now here he was... staring at the clock, debating whether to go or not. The envelope of money was in the middle drawer of his desk, untouched since Monday. He'd gone to work on Tuesday, but called in sick today. He'd skipped practice too. Fortunately, there wasn't a game this weekend, so the coaches didn't mind.

The clock changed. Six-oh-one.

Six-oh-two.

Jeff stared.

Six-oh-six.

Six-ten.

Jeff stood up, pulled on his jacket over the black t-shirt he'd worn during the day, and headed out. He passed his roommate in the hallway and barely grunted in greeting.

The car ride over passed quickly and he found himself knocking on the door to Mr. White's house. As before, the dragon answered the door himself and showed him into the study. As before, the dragon gave him a few short commands, having him strip to his underwear, flex a few times.

Then it was over, and he left with $1,000 in his pocket and instructions to come back the next Monday.

* * *

It continued like that for two more weeks.

Six times he'd been there, eight in total. Two-thousand more dollars in his pocket. He had quit his jobs, paid off his credit card, and was already improving his grades in most of his classes. Mr. White had even complimented him on the last test in Ethics 201, which made the jock blush furiously. He hoped none of his classmates noticed.

It was Thursday now, about two and a half weeks since the start of their arrangement. Jeff had surprised himself at how easily he became comfortable with his new job. He even got into it a little. The last time he'd shown up, he stripped outside, so he was in his underwear when Mr. White had answered the door. There were no neighbors around to see his little show, so he figured it would be okay, and Mr. White certainly seemed to appreciate it - there was an extra $200 in his envelope that week.

Jeff mostly felt alright about his arrangement with Mr. White. It didn't seem wrong, when he thought about it. He was simply getting paid to be a model, only he didn't wear clothes. And, truth be told, he enjoyed the attention, even if it was from another male.

He knocked on the door, dressed in his usual outfit. He hadn't worn the jockstrap-like underwear again, instead going with name brand briefs. He didn't want Mr. White getting the idea he was attracted to other men.

Mr. White answered the door. Jeff started walking towards the study, but Mr. White stopped him.

"No, we'll go to the bedroom tonight, Jeff," the dragon said, extending an arm towards the hallway on the left, palm upright to guide him. "First door on the right. I'll be in momentarily."

Jeff's eyes narrowed as he watched Mr. White go into the study. This was different. Still, the dragon probably just wanted a change of scenery. That was alright.

The Rottweiler headed across the marble-floored foyer and into the carpeted hallway. He walked past several old paintings until he got to the door. Opening it, he couldn't help but grin. The bedroom was even more luxurious than the rest of the house.

A huge four-poster bed dominated the middle of the room. It was covered with what looked like a dark purple comforter made of satin, stuffed with down. A large wooden wardrobe stood across from the bed. There were doors on either side leading to, presumably, closets. A half-open door on Jeff's right revealed a tile floor - probably the master bathroom, but he couldn't be sure because the light was off.

He stood near the foot of the bed, afraid to sit down on it, and waited for Mr. White.

The dragon wasn't long. He came in with a tray with two glasses, ice, tonic water, and a large bottle of extremely expensive gin. A small ceramic bowl held several pieces of cut lime.

"I've been saving this bottle for a special occasion," Mr. White said. "I think you'll enjoy it."

The dragon set the tray down on a small round table near the head of the bed and mixed two drinks as Jeff watched, arms crossed, from the other end of the bed. He handed one to Jeff and smiled as he took a sip of his own.

"Mm... very good stuff," he said, tasting the drink carefully. He watched Jeff as he swallowed some as well.

"Wow... that is good," the canine said, almost coughing. It was very strong.

"Now... to business," the dragon said, smiling more widely yet.

Jeff became a little nervous all the sudden, but he wasn't surprised by the dragon's next words.

"Drop the pants, lose the shirt," Mr. White said, turning to sit in one of several antique chairs by the two large windows along the back wall. The room really was huge, extending across the entire width of the mansion. Lit as it was only dimly by an overhead chandelier turned down low, Mr. White was lost in the gloom. Little light came in the heavily-curtained windows. Besides, it was getting late in the year and the sun set by seven each night anyways.

Jeff undressed down to his underwear like normal and kicked his shirt and pants towards the door. He took a few different poses as he stood under the chandelier at the foot of the four-post bed. He turned around, posed, and turned back, knowing Mr. White would be watching very closely.

Then something different happened.

"Get hard."

It was a simple command, but it floored the unsuspecting canine. He stopped and dropped his arms, staring in semi-disbelief at the dark figure in the corner.

"What?"

"You heard."

Jeff swallowed. This was not what he expected. The past few weeks he'd only been asked to strip and pose. He would flex a few times, the dragon would thank him, and then he'd be done. That was it.

Though, he thought, it would make sense Mr. White would want a little more for his money eventually.

Blushing, the canine slid a hand down over his underwear, experimentally squeezing his sheath. Flaccid, like it always was in the dragon's presence. He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry, as he squeezed again.

One part of his brain wondered what the hell he was thinking. Why was he trying to get an erection? Why, in front of another guy, was he doing this?

The other part of his brain thought two things. First, $1,000 a week is really hard to ignore once you've become used to it.

Second, he would get to show off.

The second thought there surprised him. Yes, he had come to enjoy the attention from the older male. But being willing to get an erection for him... that was something he couldn't have imagined two weeks ago.

Which was, Jeff finally realized, why Mr. White had waited.

The rubbing was having the desired effect, despite - or in spite of - Mr. White's keen gaze. Jeff could see the dragon's eyes glinting in the dark as his sheath filled out the underwear. Bigger, larger, until the canine felt the head of his shaft push up against the waistband of his shorts. He paused, uncertain of what to do next.

As if sensing the Rottweiler's discomfort, Mr. White remained silent and still in the semi-dark of the corner.

Mentally shrugging and telling himself, "Fuck it," Jeff pulled the waistband of his shorts down over his full sheath, exposing his half-hard erection. His cock was impressive, even flaccid - thick, full, and solid. He gripped the base, just above his balls, where the waistband of his underwear dug into his fur, and squeezed a few more times. He let out a sigh as his cock began growing in earnest.

So intent was Jeff on getting an erection at all he barely remembered the dragon was in the room watching his every move. It was only after his cock stood straight up, thick and throbbing lightly, that the dragon spoke again.

"Very impressive... but you're not fully hard yet..."

Jeff looked puzzled for a moment before realizing what the dragon meant: his knot. He glanced down at himself, at the thick shaft extending from his waist, long enough to nearly pass his pecs if he held it flat to his ripped belly.

Fingers shaking just slightly, he started to stroke himself with one hand and used the other to pull his underwear down a bit, so the wide straps came down to mid-thigh. The cloth still wrapped tight around his heavy testicles.

Jeff took a deep breath, his arm flexing as he slowly drew his fingers up and down his length, trying to urge himself to grow more aroused. He looked down at the floor, unable to look at the dragon, and licked his lips again, wetting his thick, parched lips.

Slowly, he felt his knot begin to form. It pushed up out of his sheath quickly once he brought his other hand to play, adding several inches to his length as the ball of flesh grew larger, thicker in girth than his already sizeable shaft.

A bead of pre-cum emerged from the tip of his crown as he finally took his hands away, his heavy, engorged shaft falling forwards slightly, pointing out at a 45 degree angle from his eight-pack stomach.

His toes curled and uncurled against the carpet as he waited awkwardly for Mr. White.

"Good boy," he heard the dragon say. Mr. White's voice was low, almost a purr. "One more stroke, for good measure."

Jeff blushed as the reality of what he was doing struck him again. He was hard, intentionally, in front of another guy! It was weird and strange and, though he couldn't quite admit it to himself, strangely exhilarating.

Despite his reservations, Jeff gripped the base of his shaft and slowly pulled upwards, gasping as his sensitive head throbbed lightly. A spurt of pre-cum splashed against the floor and Jeff froze. Did he... did he just do that?

There wasn't a sound from Mr. White, who just watched, unmoving and silent, as Jeff let his paw drop back down to his side.

He stood there for more than a minute, feeling incredibly self-conscious.

"So... Mr. White... this is the most I have to do, right?" he finally asked, desperate to break the silence.

"Ha ha ha!"

The beefy Rottweiler was startled by the dragon's sudden laughter, but strangely, not as dismayed as he should have been by what Mr. White said next.

"No, kid, we still have lots of other stuff to get into," the dragon said, standing up so his long face came into view. "Now lose the underwear and get on the bed."