FSE

Furry search engine

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Name's Rex. I'm not what you would call an ordinary dragon, if there even is such a thing. My breed is pretty rare; I've never met another one as long as I've lived here in the city. For one thing, I've got fur all over, instead of scales. Thick, soft fur; I say that it's dark gray, but it's really more like lavender. Yeah... I'm a big, fuzzy, purple dragon. I've also got a busted-looking face, so it's not like I'm one of the pretty ones, either. So, of course I got teased growing up. I've heard it all. It's why I started working out so much, you know. People stopped making fun of me when I got strong enough to deadlift a half-ton. That's why I lift weights. Well, that, and it makes me work up a good sweat. But, I'll get to that in a minute.

You see, furred dragons - I didn't make that up, that's what they call us - have powers, even in modern times. Mystical powers. Something about the four elements. You know the ones. Some of us can control the earth, some can spit fire, some can even make it start raining. But, me? I inherited the power of the wind. That's how my parents tried to explain it to me, at least. Yeah, it's exactly what you think it means. My great, ancient dragon-born power is the ability - or more like, the need - to fart constantly. Nasty, smelly dragon farts; the kind that stick to my fur and hang around in the air long after I leave. The kind that wilt flowers and bleach the paint off the walls. Now that I'm grown up, I can mostly control it, but it wasn't always like that. Yep, I was the "stinky kid" in school. Always smelling like I just crapped myself, or farting in my seat on accident if I leaned the wrong way. No one would sit near me. No one wanted to be my friend. They'd just point and laugh at me from a distance. They would taunt me, and say I had to wear a diaper, or complain that I was doing it on purpose. As if the purple fur and messed-up face weren't bad enough.

There was this one guy, a tiger... he was the biggest bully of all. He was held back a year or two, so he was already bigger than the rest of us, but he made my life a constant hell. Making fart noises with his mouth around me. Throwing things at me. Shoving me down in the hall. You know how bullies are. So one day, he just pushed me too far, I guess. I didn't brush my teeth the night before, or that morning, so I had some serious dragon breath building up. I could taste it in my mouth. When I got to class, I marched right up to him, and I belched in his face. He puked so much, they had to move us into another classroom for the rest of the day while they mopped the floors. Heh. After that, he didn't mess with me. Nobody messed with me. That's when I realized I really did have powers.

That brings me to today, and the sweat. First off, I don't have anybody in my life. I live alone in a cheap apartment, I work by myself as a night watchman, I don't ever go out with anyone, my family lives in another state, and people generally stay away from me. I always hit the gym in the middle of the night, after my shift, when nobody is around. That's how I live my life. I pretty much get to do what I want. I feel like I've earned it; my name is "Rex," after all. That means I'm the king. It's Latin, so that makes it important. And as the king, I live by my own three rules: don't shower, don't use mouthwash, and don't watch what you eat. Maybe that just makes me sound lazy, but, so what? It also makes me powerful, and I think you can guess why.

To say my hygiene is poor would be saying that I was ever all that clean to begin with. My pit stench is worse than tear gas. My breath's bad enough to make regular dragons run for their lives. My crotch musk and swamp ass pretty much guarantee I'll never have to worry about finding a mate. Hell, I reek so bad, even the neighbors have started to complain about the smell creeping through the walls. So, my sweat is important to me. I can make as much as I want, and it keeps me stinkin' 24/7. Weirdly, my fur always stays soft, clean, and purple, no matter how filthy and smelly I get underneath. Like it's mocking me. I guess it's more of that furred dragon mysticism at work. Oh, and, don't forget the farting... I still do plenty of that, and it smells worse than ever, thanks to my crappy diet. It's really easy for me to stink up anyone or anything with the lovely smell of my butt. I do it all the time, in fact. Like, today.

Today, I'm dressed light. Lets me move around easier, and spread my stink around faster. Just a pair of black jogging pants and white sneakers. No shirt. Friday is my day off, so I like to do what I call "charity work." As in, I go out there and I share with the community. Specifically, I share my odors with others. And sharing is caring, right? This usually means seeing who or what I can stink up, and how long I can get away with it before I get busted. Then, I just gas up the whole place with a nice round of dragon farts, and I make my escape while they're all still choking on my stink. I don't know why I started doing it. Maybe stinking out that bully gave me a new purpose in life. Maybe it's because of some natural urge to hunt that us dragons have. I'll tell you what, though: either way, it feels great. Showing my dominance. Terrifying and driving away all the weaklings before me. I'm the king, after all. Nobody can stand up to my powers. Well, almost nobody.

I start off with my favorite place, as usual: public transportation. Lots of people all around, cramped up in a tight space, with no easy way to escape. I choose the city bus first, as a warm-up. The smell of diesel fuel and the collective body odor of everyone already inside helps thicken the air and cover up my stench as I make my way on board. This way, I can more easily launch a surprise stink attack once we're in motion. I make sure to board towards the end, so I am forced toward the back where it's standing room only. I find a good spot and grab on to one of the grips hanging from the ceiling. I am tall enough that I can hang on while keeping my elbow up against the side of my chest, so I can hold back my armpit stink until I'm ready to strike. I can feel a few eyes staring at my buff body, men and women alike. I guess people like seeing a toned body like this. It helps bring their guard down, and sometimes even draws them closer to me when they come up for a better view, as long as they don't see my face. I just turn away, and pretend not to notice. It makes stinking them out so much easier. I can't wait.

An older goat gentleman ends up standing next to me, reading the front of a folded newspaper from behind his square-shaped glasses. He seems oblivious; I doubt he's even noticed I'm here. I see his nostrils flare a couple of times, but I don't think he suspects me yet. The last passengers shuffle on, so I put my plan into action. I know the bus takes a sharp right turn immediately after it pulls away from this stop, so I switch the grip to my left hand and quietly orient myself so the goat is between my left shoulder and the bus wall. The doors shut, and the interior of the bus instantly warms up another ten degrees as the breeze from outside is cut off. All of the old filth that's built up against my skin beneath my fur begins to come to life again as fresh, hot sweat trickles from my underarms and starts to mix with it. I grind my arm against my ribs a few times, stirring up all sorts of funky stuff growing in my armpit fur, as the bus lurches into motion and merges onto the street. Before it can even change gears, it's careening around the curve to the right, flying through the yellow light as its momentum sends all of the passengers leaning off to the left.

Now, before I continue, I should mention my body odor again. When I said my armpits are worse than tear gas, I wasn't trying to sound macho. This is totally from experience, and from seeing people's reactions to getting a whiff of my stank. I think I smell pretty awesome, really. When most furs say they have stanky pits, they smell something like a ripe gym bag, or at worst, a pile of rotten onions. Maybe it's a little fishy if it's an otter, or a little skunky if it's a fox. Dragons, though, are different. Everything about a dragon is a step above everybody else, and that includes our stink. And, since I've got all this fur, my sweat doesn't just evaporate immediately. It gets trapped under there, and stays nice and warm and moist, and before you know it... tear gas. The smell is hard to describe, really. It is musky and sour, like regular armpit odor, but intensely strong, almost burning. There is also kind of a nasty, rotten, beastly funk to it, thanks to all my filthy fur hiding under there. It's really sick stuff, as this goat is about to discover.

I flick my elbow up into the air as I lean into the turn, spacing out my weight across the goat's body to pin him up against the wall on the side of the bus. My open armpit presses into the side of his face, painting him with my sweat and releasing wave after wave of my absolutely rank pit stench at point-blank range. I can see his weird little goat eyes widening and rolling back as he takes a stuttering breath and starts shaking violently, and I know I've got him. As soon as the bus leans upright again, I release my weight off him and drop my elbow, and he immediately dives across the aisle for one of the bench seats near the back, falling in between two very surprised passengers as he claws his way toward the half-open window above them. Pretty fast for an old goat, I gotta say. Sadly, he got to the window in time, right as he noisily hurls his lunch off the side of the bus and into the street. I love making them barf, but I really love watching it happen up close. Maybe next time. The pair of furs sitting in the seat look terrified, and quickly scramble across the floor as they try to get away from him. They look at me with a confused expression, and I give my best bashful grin. "Must be carsick," I say jokingly, though I can tell my cloud of pit-stink is still hovering around me, and I won't be able to play innocent for much longer.

I'm already getting an angry stare from the jaguar sitting in the next seat up in front of the still-puking goat, and I make the mistake of making eye contact with him as I turn my head. He stands up and starts to get in my face. Big mistake for him, of course, but I don't let him know that just yet. "Yo, did you do something to that guy?" he shouts at me. I shut my mouth and shrug with my free hand, while licking the grime and other nasty stuff growing in my gums and around my teeth to prepare my bad breath attack. This jaguar is pretty stacked; I hope we don't go to the same gym. He's got a serious scowl as he confronts me, but his face immediately wrinkles when my lingering cloud of pit funk finally wafts across him, so I know I need to act fast. I clutch my gut with my left claw and hold up one finger with my right, as if to ask for a moment, and then I wince and double over. A pretty convincing show, I must say. "You OK?" he asks, suddenly changing his tone. "You gonna be sick too?" No, but, you will.

I look up and stare him dead in the eye. Then I belch in his face, hard and loud. I also exhale as hard as I can, just in case, but I can tell by his expression that it wasn't necessary. My breath stinks so damn bad, and I love it. It actually makes things difficult sometimes, since I can't talk to people up close without completely grossing them out. It's why I usually just get fast food through the drive-thru, now. Everything else I need, I buy off the internet. Honestly, I probably don't even need my halitosis to stink people out, but it's so much fun to use, and oh so effective. I just can't stop now. Anyway, the jaguar emits a sound halfway between a yip and a gurgle, then flips around and stumbles over to the window. He shoves the exhausted goat aside with his shoulder so he can begin puking out the side of the bus as well. The goat slumps onto the bench seat, caked in vomit and looking ready to pass out. I should go over and finish him off before he can squeal - or bleat, I guess - to someone, and give me away, but there are too many people circling around him and coming to his aid. He weakly looks in my direction, so I know it's time to make my escape.

The bus begins to slow for a red light, so I lean over and yank the stop-request rope. The brakes of the bus hiss and groan as the mighty vehicle shudders to a halt, and the doors at the front and rear ease open. I could take the rear exit and make a hasty retreat, but, then I'd be missing out on what I do best. The jaguar pulls his head back in from the window and shouts something garbled at me before falling into a coughing fit. I stand up in the middle of the aisle, then turn my back to the jaguar and the goat and the other passengers in the far back. I lift my thick purple tail as high as it will go. I stick out my fuzzy butt and aim it at the back of the bus, and I think you know what happens next, so I'll just stop there.

Nah, I'm kidding. I let out a long, sputtering roar of a fart, right there in the middle of the aisle. BrrRRRWOMMMMMMmmmmph! I turn my hips a bit to spread the stink around as I spray the back of the bus with my awful dragon gas. I make sure to blast everyone equally, buffeting them with a jet of my hot butt fumes, even though I'm standing several feet away. It only takes a couple of seconds before the whole back half of the bus is blanketed in my thick, green ass fog. Oh, I should have mentioned it sooner: my farts look like bright green smoke, like I was a damn cartoon character. Just another thing the kids at school would make fun of me about. But, it lets me see how much ground I've covered, at least, so it's kind of handy at times. And the smell? Intensely farty, like rancid sewage and sharp cheese, but it also has some sour notes, like spoiled beef. I love the smell of my own brand; who doesn't?

Anyway, the jaguar and goat are both sharing the open window again, puking their guts out into the street, and the rest of the passengers in the back are gasping and choking too, now. Music to my ears. I know I can't stick around, though. The people in the forward seats are starting to turn around to see all the commotion, so I briskly walk toward the front of the bus and give each row a smelly little parting gift as I pass by. I make sure keep my tail raised as I walk so my ass musk can waft out as much as possible. My butt stinks from years of built-up farts, layers of sweat, filthy fur, and a bonus layer of stench from where my farts have been blowing against the fur on the underside of my tail. It's a real treat. Sometimes, I just have to lean my butt towards an unsuspecting fur sitting next to me, and it's enough to make them start gagging. I don't even have to gas them. I mean, I do anyway, of course, but I'll admit it's usually overkill. I make sure to give each row of passengers a generous fart as I pass by, too. Pss. Pff. Pfffb. Psssh. A soft little toot of green gas puffs out of my butt with each step I take. I can keep them silent-but-violent if I'm careful, but in the end, it smells the same.

I reach the front door stairwell of the bus, hearing the cacophony of groans and coughing, but I play it cool and don't even turn around to look at the carnage. Instead, I stop next to the driver. "And one for you," I cheerfully say over my shoulder. This is charity work, after all. He glances down at me, confused. I squeeze my hands and blast the brown bear driver with a hot, loud, nasty one. BWWWONKK. He shields himself with his arms, as if that would help. My victims do that a lot. Must be some kind of reflex. He's completely covered in my puffy green stink cloud, gagging nonstop, so I don't think he got a good look at me. That'll be good in case I need to catch a lift back home. I trot down the stairs and glance over my shoulder to see the windows on the side of the bus dropping open, one after another. Thick green gas wafts out, and I can still hear their coughing and retching as I dash away from the scene and head towards an alleyway around the corner. I listen for the hiss of the bus' brakes and the roar of its engine, and finally, it pulls away. What a story those passengers have to tell, though! I bet they've never smelled anything like that before. Like I said, it's charity work.

Speaking of which, I hear shouting coming from the alleyway as I wind around the corner. Looks like a couple of wolves about to throw down. One of them's short, but pretty strong-looking. Probably works out, too. The other one is tall and skinny, and he backs into the wall with his hands up. He clearly doesn't want to be there. The little guy kicks him in the side, then just starts poundin' on him. I grit my teeth as something inside me starts to boil. It's a sight I've seen before, and it makes me mad. Neither one notices me until I'm right up on them. I grab the shorter guy by the back of his shirt and yank him backward, hard. Then I drag him toward me, and slam my other elbow into the front of his chest. He flips over backwards, landing head-first into an empty metal trash can. His feet are sticking up and he starts kicking the air, but I can tell I've winded him. I hop up onto the edge of the trash can and let my rear end sag down while I balance on the rim. I hear him start gagging from the smell of my butt hovering over his face, and I chuckle. What a lightweight. I'm still mad as hell, for some reason, so I let him have it with both barrels. I fart on him so hard that I feel like I busted the seat of my pants wide open. FWWOMMMMMP. The sound makes the whole can vibrate. It echoes back out, and rings in my ears. My gas cloud immediately fills the can, and then some. Green smoke starts overflowing out of the top. It's got to smell like hell in there. I hear him start spewing; then, he starts pushing against the bottom of the can with his hands, trying to get away from his own pool of puke. He slips and lands on his elbows, falling even deeper into the can, and I hear him puke again and start screaming. I only had to gas him once, and he's already crying for mercy. Like I said, a real lightweight.

The other wolf looks pretty beat up. He's crouched against the brick wall across from me, shaking and breathing heavily. I hop off my perch on the rim of the trashcan, and it falls over onto the asphalt, which makes the shorter wolf groan loudly. I stare down at the taller wolf, and he stares back up at me, tears in his eyes. Before he can say anything, I turn around and lift my tail, ready to fart in his face, too. I can't be playing favorites out here. Everyone's gotta get a whiff of me, sooner or later. I'm the king, and they need to know it. The world had its chance to be good to me, but, that chance is long gone, so now it's my turn to play unfair. I suddenly hear him whimpering, and I clench my teeth. I hesitate, then drop my tail and walk away. He got away with a face full of my butt stink. That's good enough.

My blood's still simmering when I find an unlocked gate that leads back to the main street. I need to cool off and relax somewhere. Normally, my next stop would be a restaurant. There is a fancy bistro on the corner of this street, but, restaurants are usually large and can be a challenge, and I'm not in the mood. I just want to relax. So, instead, I decide to just skip ahead to my favorite part. There's a subway station a block away, so I head in that direction. The subway is the only place I can really enjoy myself anymore. The doors seal up nice and tight, and the train isn't gonna stop for anybody, so I get to stink out a whole load of people at once. Then, when it reaches the stop, they all pour out, and I get the whole train car to myself. Since the things run on computers now, I can relax while I'm carried around town, and not have to worry about anybody else getting on my car and ruining my fun. If the sight of a thick green stink cloud through the windows doesn't keep people away, then the smell that spills out onto the platform every time the doors open sure will. I love it. It's like farting on a hundred new people every five minutes.

I skip down the stairs onto the boarding platform, practically giddy. I've started sweating again, so my body odor is pretty wicked. I'm not even trying to hold it back now. Furs are already holding their noses and climbing over each other to get away from me. The train arrives, and the lucky ones get to exit the cab before I have my way with it. I'll get them next time. I follow the flow of furs boarding the car, and I dart through the aisle to grab a window seat near the front. This train is newer, and pretty slick, with nice carpeting and puffy bench seats. Like I said, it's all automated, so there is no conductor booth. The doors shut, and an unconvincing computer voice announces the next stop. I'm giddy, and sweaty, and tapping my heel with nervous anticipation. Some poor squirrel reluctantly sits next to me, small enough to fit into the space left on the bench that isn't taken up by my big ass and thick tail. I'm gonna need room to myself before I can get started, though, so he's gotta be the first one to go.

I decide to be subtle about it. I spread my knees apart, letting my big, furry, smelly dragon balls air out. Even through my sweatpants, my crotch is absolutely rank. It's probably the worst-smelling musk on my entire body, even if it's not as powerful as my armpits. I savor the stench; thick, dirty, earthy, musky. My furry sack is hot and bloated and radiates with filthy dragon musk all the time; like I said, I'm well past the point of ever finding a mate. There's plenty of dragon pheromones or whatever coming off my balls, and I'm sure they'd work great, if I was interested. Nobody wants me shoving this smelly package in their face, or anywhere else. And that's fine with me. My hand will never cheat on me, after all. So, anyway, I lean back against the cold glass and, you know, present myself. My crotch stank immediately wafts up all around me. The musk is already too much for the squirrel, who coughs and decides to stand in the aisle and hang on to the bar. I've got this half of the bench to myself, now. That's good. Time for phase two.

I lift my legs and sort of scoot to the side, then turn my body so I'm in a reclining position on the bench, like I'm about to do sit-ups, with my back facing the front of the train car close by. I prop my head up with my hands from behind, exposing both of my raw armpits at once. I spread my knees apart, and the cloud of musk around me grows even thicker. People standing in the aisle and sitting across from me start to cough and shuffle down to the other end of the train car to escape my stink. Little do they know that that's right where I want them. My butt is a cannon, now, and it's locked and loaded and facing the entire length of the subway car. I clench my abdominals and grit my teeth, building up some pressure. I want to go for a new record, and see whether my gas blast can reach the far end of the car from here. My stomach groans noisily as gas builds up behind my back door, and I start shaking as I struggle to hold it in. A couple of passengers hear me start gasping, and turn to look down at me. The way I'm shaking, and sweating; I must look like I'm having a heart attack. A fox moves toward me like he's coming over to help, but the wall of pit stink and ass musk pouring off me sends him reeling in the other direction. Before he does, though, he makes this hilarious grossed-out face down at me. I accidentally laugh at him, and end up losing my concentration. Oh well.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNKKKKKkkkkk!

An impressive plume of gas erupts out of my tailhole, at least fifteen feet long and lasting two or three solid seconds. That may not sound like much, but, you try it some time; that is a LOT of gas. The green jet extends almost the entire length of the train car, then immediately expands into a thick haze of stink, blanketing everyone from wall to wall in my noxious ass vapor. Someday, I hope to be able to hit that back wall directly, but not this time. If that fox hadn't interrupted me, I would've made it. I pant a few times as I see panicking passengers struggling to get away through the thick green haze in the air, but there is nowhere for them or the stink to go. I start laughing quietly as I hear the first sounds of retching and puking, way off toward the back. Don't they know anything about physics? That's where the fart cloud is gonna be the thickest. There's less of it up where I'm sitting, if they don't mind all the body odor instead. A panther emerges out of the green cloud and starts coming toward my side of the train; he must have the right idea. I spin around and hop to my feet to greet him in the aisle, then give him a heavy exhale of my bad breath to his face as a welcoming gift. He has no idea what hit him; he's down on his knees in an instant, ready to puke his guts out. I help him along by turning around in place and hovering the seat of my black sweatpants just over his head. He looks up at just the perfect moment to take a blast of fresh fart gas directly to the nostrils. BWWWWOOOMP. Heh. I couldn't make this up if I tried.

To my surprise, the panther isn't quite down for the count yet. He swings his body around, still down on all fours, and starts crawling away from me. By now, it's obvious to everyone that I'm the culprit, being that I'm the only one still standing. I bend forward and brandish my butt again, and several passengers gasp and throw up their hands to shield themselves. Heh, they did it too! I go easy this time, letting a bubbling, hissing, groaning rope of green gas trickle out of my ass. It coils and floats through the air like a hideously smelly snake, eventually fanning out and thickening the haze of green stink trapped inside the subway car. I sigh and let my tongue hang out like I was a cartoon dog. I'm in heaven. Even if it didn't smell at all, this feeling of relief... it's hard to top. Sure, I'll be bloated and gassy again in about five minutes, but I'm gonna enjoy it while I can, damn it. I let my tail flop down as I fart again, feeling the warm wind ruffling my tail fur. I feel my weight suddenly shift forward as the subway train begins grinding to a halt; we must be at the next stop. Somewhat disappointed, I turn around and lay back down on the bench seat, then kick off my sneakers so my funky-ass feet can air out some. The doors hiss open, and the announcement comes on again. I chuckle as I hear the stampede of passengers struggling to push their way out of the door and onto the platform, then sigh, relaxed in knowing that no one's gonna come on board with the place smelling like this. Finally, I've got it to myself, and I can have a little quiet time.

The doors slide shut, and the announcement comes on again. I stare down at my purple-furred feet, wiggling my clawed toes a few times to loosen up some of my foot funk, when I see something off to the side that I wasn't expecting. It's a single passenger, still on board. He seems to be leaning down onto his lap, with his head lowered. I give an annoyed grunt, then sit up and look at the intruder for a second or two as the subway glides into motion again. The guy doesn't seem to be moving. He must have passed out. It happens sometimes. I'll make sure to keep him company when he wakes up, and then I'll stink him out the door at the next stop. I hop off my seat and take the bench seat next to him. He looks like a dog, only... different. His ears are more pointed, and his fur looks rough, no pun intended. Almost like he's half-coyote, or something. A coydog? I think that's what they call it. Another freak like me, huh? Well, there's only room for one freak on this train. I quietly turn in my seat and get into my reclining position again, laying my feet down on the cushion next to him. Just then, he clears his throat and scratches his ear.

He's still awake? What the hell?

Even if he's somehow ignoring the fart-stink in the air, I know he can smell my feet right now. Most furs with reeking feet say they smell like corn chips, malt vinegar, and parmesan. I don't know if I'd call that "stinky." It sounds pretty delicious to me. My paw stench is way worse than that. My feet are incredibly musky, of course, but also really swampy. Kind of like my butt, but without the lingering fart smell. It's a really dank, peaty stink, and if I can smell them from back here, I know this coydog can. He doesn't react at all, though. Just keeps staring at his lap. Looks like he's doing something on his phone. He glances up briefly and sees my feet, then the rest of me attached to them. He quickly turns his head away and clears his throat. I've got him now. I stand up and put my shoes back on, then trot over to him and stand in front of him. He pockets his phone, acting like I was gonna take it from him. That kind of ticks me off, so I grit my teeth and glare down at him. I'm really gonna let this guy have it. He looks up at me innocently. "Yes?" he asks softly.

The green fog hanging in the air is starting to thin out, so I make a mental note to refresh it soon. That means I need to finish this guy off quickly. But, there's something about the way he looks at me... maybe I should toy with him a bit more. See what his deal is. I turn my head toward the back of the train car. "Looks like it's just us," I say out of the side of my mouth. "Gonna be a... long trip. We might want to get to know each other better." I turn in a half circle and bend over slightly as I raise my tail up, so my ass is pointed right at his face. "Go ahead, sniff my butt," I say, in a light but firm tone. "That's how dogs get to know each other, right? Go on, don't be shy." Believe it or not, this prank has worked once before. I can tell he's hesitating, though, and why wouldn't he? If he sniffs me now, he'll probably puke everywhere. And if he refuses, then I'll just gas him to finish him off. Right now, I really just want to see what he'll do. "Come on. Smell me," I say. "I'll smell yours next, if you do." I wiggle my rump back and forth a couple of times. "I hear I smell pretty good," I say tauntingly.

"You lack the proper scent glands," he responds, with completely a straight face. I'm getting impatient, but he continues talking. "I'm not sure what good-" I decide to interrupt him, and blast him dead-on, point-blank in the face with a hot spray of gas. PFFOOONNK. A short one, but it's richly rank; I can smell it already, even with the other odors in the air. I relax and let my tail fall limp. That had to have done it. I lower my tail and let it drape across the top of his head, and I sigh to myself. A second later, I jump as I feel him push my tail off his face with his hand! This dog is still going? I twist my shoulders around and look back at him, and he doesn't even look fazed. "...What good it would do," he grunts, finishing his thought. "Do you mind?" he asks, sounding more annoyed than disgusted.

I grit my teeth and turn to face him. Even if he's one of the ones with no sense of smell, all that gas in his lungs should have choked him out by now anyway. Wait, no. That's not it. He mentioned scent glands, so, he can definitely smell things. I can tell by the way he keeps looking at me that this guy is just messing with me. He's probably gonna start taunting me any second now. Well, nobody messes with the king! I've never met a nose I couldn't stink out, and I'm not about to lose my title to some mutt in a cheap suit. I bump him to the side with my hips as I sit down onto the bench next to him. He sighs slightly, but scoots over and makes room for me anyway. He's probably a real nice guy, even to total strangers. That just makes me even madder, for some reason. Well, not madder... more determined. I lean back and cross my legs, trying to act casual. "Sorry about that. It slipped out," I say. I squeeze my eyes shut and fart out another heavy cloud of gas, which drums noisily against the seat and surrounds me with a green haze and the smell of fresh butt funk. BBBBBBBRRBRBB. "That one too," I grunt. He stares off into the distance for a second, then turns his attention back to his phone. I'm getting nothing out of this guy! Maybe he's got a secret fart fetish. I should try something else. I stink above the equator, too, after all.

I lift up my arm and drape it across the top of the seat behind his shoulders, letting my armpit air out some more. My eye-watering musk comes flooding out, and instantly stinks up the entire section of the train. It's pretty ripe by now, even by my standards. I stare hard at the coydog, waiting to see how he responds. He just ignores me. It doesn't seem to bother him at all. He's gotta be using some kind of heavy-duty yoga breathing exercises to keep from smelling me. That's got to be it. I need to see if I can catch him off-guard and stink him out that way. I'm not letting this one get away from me. I put my arm down to make the air around us a little less stinky, and sit quietly for about a minute or so. He's still absorbed in whatever he's doing on his phone; playing a game, I guess. Once I'm sure he's let his guard down, I start flexing my abs and building up a rumbling of gas in my gut. My burps basically stink about as bad as my breath, but they let me get some extra pressure behind it, and I've always loved the sound they make. I can pretend I'm a real dragon, terrorizing peasants with my flaming breath. Think that sounds silly? Here, let me show you.

Maybe later, then. Right now, this coydog. Yeah. I've got my maw pretty well sealed shut while the stink builds up inside, so I can't say anything to get his attention. I look around the subway car for something I could distract him with, but it's pretty bare. I decide to go the easy route; I just tap him on the shoulder. He looks up and over at me, and I immediately let him have it, belching an enormous wet cloud of dragon stink breath directly into his face before he can react. URWUUUAAAAAAAP! His fur's blown back and his ears look like they flatten out; it must have been pretty powerful. He blinks and seems stunned for a moment. Here comes the puke; I know it for sure this time. Maybe I should back up. Instead, he shakes his head and gently waves my breath away, like it was no worse than a whiff off a trash can or something. "Excuse you," he scolds, running his paw through the fur on top of his head to straighten it out. I sit there, dumbfounded. "What do you want?" he asks.

"I, um," I say, not sure what to do next. "I... just... wondered if you knew what time it was?" Real smooth. Go me.

"Half past one," he says, not even having to check his phone. He points up at the marquee signs around the inside of the train that display the time. "There are clocks all around you," he says gruffly. A real smart-ass. I mutter a "thank you," then scoot away from him and cross my arms. Yeah, I sulk sometimes. So what? My gut's feeling bloated, again. Time to let off some more steam, so to speak. The next stop is coming up soon, and I want this place to be good and stinky again while I work on breaking my victim, here. I turn around on the bench and get on my hands and knees, pointing my butt out toward the aisle. If I fart directly at him, he's probably going to get up and move, so I decide to gas up the middle of the car instead and let him take the smell indirectly. They call that "strategy." I let my tail hang down over my exhaust pipe so it can get a good funky dusting of my stink, and I let 'er rip. FFFPP. FFFFPPPPP. FRRRRP. FRRRRRPPPP. I forgot how sputtery they get when my tail's in the way. A nice, rotten green cloud is hovering around my butt, and I wag my hips a few times to help spread the stink around through the air. I glance over at the coydog, grinning like an idiot. He's still just sitting there, typing away.

Now, I'm starting to get ticked off. But, before I can try again, I feel my weight suddenly shift, and I fall over onto the bench before tumbling down onto the aisle floor and landing on my back. I guess the train's stopping. I groan softly, then look up to see the upside-down coydog standing and moving to the door. He's leaving?! Dammit! I rock my body a couple of times and roll onto my knees, then pull myself upright using one of the subway poles. "You shouldn't play on the seats like that," I hear him say. "You might get hurt." Now he's treating me like a kid, too? I huff, then stand up tall next to him. The doors hiss open and a rush of stanky green fog rolls out as fresh, cool air from outside flows in. People on the platform gasp and back away, and I chuckle quietly. The coydog glances back at me, then makes his way onto the platform. I follow him, of course. He's not beating me that easily.

"OK, time out," I say. I put my fuzzy purple hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it away and starts walking faster. "I know you're not totally oblivious. What's your deal?" I ask, jogging to catch up to him. He's dressed in an off-the-rack brown suit, slacks that almost match, and some scuffed dress shoes, so he's not gonna out-run me, at least. At the same time, he's ignoring me, which really annoys me. I mean, I did just fart in his face a bunch, but that's no reason to be rude. He marches his way up the stairs and back onto the main road, and I continue to follow, but I start to lag behind as I try to manage the steps with my larger feet.

When I reach the top of the steps, I see him waiting at the crosswalk. Then, I see a couple of furs turn their heads toward him and make the tell-tale "I'm smelling a real nasty fart" face. You know the one... raised eyebrows, crinkled lips, some gagging. They both turn and move away from him in total lockstep, almost like they'd been practicing. The coydog looks confused, then lifts the lapel of his suit and sniffs it. He winces, then suddenly turns his head and looks straight at me, frowning deeply. I'll admit it scared the hell out of me. How did he even know I was there? I realized I must have perfumed his suit up pretty good with my farts and my breath, and I start to laugh. He's gonna be carrying my stink with him all around town, now. It's not the victory I was hoping for, but it's a victory nonetheless.

He sighs, then suddenly turns and walks past me down the sidewalk, away from the crosswalk where he had been waiting for the light to change. What's he up to? I still haven't gotten an answer out of him about how he withstood my stink for so long. I figure I've got time, so I follow him from a short distance behind him. It looks like he's heading for the park. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts making a call. I can make out bits and pieces of his conversation over the noise of city traffic. I don't mean to snoop, but, he's talking real loud, so I can't help it. "Yeah... Sorry... Can you do tomorrow? Something's come up, and... Ahh hah..." He starts to get away from me again, so I miss the rest. He's pretty fast for a little dog in clogs.

He reaches the park, and takes a seat on one of the iron and wooden benches, underneath a big shady tree. There is a couple standing by the tree trunk, and they give him kind of a dirty look after a few seconds. They must be smelling him, too. Heh. Little do they know, that's just the preview. I come up to them from the other side and surprise the hell out of them. "Excuse me," I say, and they both turn and gasp at me. "Need a minute alone, here. So..." Before they can respond, I turn around and blast them with some heavy, rotten gas. They both stagger away and flee the scene, and the green smoke is carried off with the wind. I take my time and wait until they're a long way toward the other side of the park, then I sit next to the coydog on the bench. I feel like I'm in crazy stalker mode right now, but, all he had to do was tell me to go away. So far, he hasn't done that. I'll be quick, though. All I want is an answer.

"Hey," I say, leaning forward against my knees. "You're smelling pretty good, there." The coydog grunts, then takes off his stinky suit jacket and drapes it over the back of the bench. He's wearing a white shirt underneath, but it's covered in yellowish sweat stains. Totally caked in the stuff, top to bottom. Even the sleeves. I would be grossed out if mine didn't look exactly the same back at home. "That's a lot of sweat. You been working out?" I ask, half making small talk and half actually curious. He still doesn't say anything; he's just staring at the grass, now. If he's trying to get rid of me by creeping me out, it's working. "Hey, come on, say something," I say gently. I haven't been this polite to anyone in years. Too bad there's nobody else around to witness it.

He's still stonefaced, though, and I'm about to give up. "You, um, really impressed me back there, you know," I say, puffing my chest up a bit. "Most people don't stick around for my, uh, pranks. Seems like you got a real iron stomach. What's your secret?" Now, I'm being direct. If he doesn't give me something to go on now, then I'm gonna give up. Well, first I'll fart on him some more, and then I'll give up. "Or... just tell me to piss off, and I'll do it," I offer. At this point, I just want him to say anything at all. This has to be some next-level psychological torture he's using on me. He's still completely silent. I squeeze my fingers in my fists. "You let me do all those gross things to you, then you let me follow you out here, and now you're letting me sit with you. What's your deal? Why won't you say anything?"

"Because you're insanely attractive!! Alright?!" the coydog yells at me.

What?

I blink, then lean away from him and scoot up against the handrail on the side of the bench. I stare at the grass, too. It's nice and green. Reminds me of my farts. We sit in silence for a minute; just a couple of freaks at the park. "You think so? Why?" I finally ask, genuinely perplexed. Nobody's ever said that to me in my entire life.

"Are you kidding me? Look at you!" he shouts, standing up and gesturing at me with his hands. "You're a dragon! You're totally buff! You're covered in... beautiful fur! You walk around without a shirt on! You've probably got every girl on the planet lined up outside your door!" He drops his arms and droops his ears. "What am I... supposed to say to that? I'm just some sweaty half-breed mutt. Nobody on your level would ever notice me." He takes his seat again and stares at the grass some more. "So when you came on that train, I... couldn't stop looking at you. And when you started following me... I thought you were just some meat head. Showing off. Looking for compliments."

"Oh," I say, finally. "Well, no. I'm single. I mean, who would ever want to wake up next to this body? Can't you tell that from the smell?" I ask, getting back on track.

"I think you smell... amazing," the coydog admits. He kind of shudders as he says that last word, like he's out of breath.

"Bullshit," I snap back. I sound angry, but I'm actually a little bit frightened. Maybe this guy's lost it, and he's gonna knife me. I stand up and take a step away from the bench, but I keep facing him, just in case.

"I'll prove it," the coydog says. He motions for me to come closer, but I hesitate. "Please?" he asks, sounding kind of desperate. He really does want to smell me some more. Now I know he's got to be crazy, but, maybe I still have a chance at stinking him out, if that's even what I want to do anymore. I walk over in front of where he's sitting and stand there, facing him. He raises his hands and hooks his thumbs into the elastic waistband of my sweatpants. "May I?" he asks politely. Like I said, he seems like a real nice guy. I look around, and don't see anyone watching, so I brace myself and nod at him. He gently yanks down my sweatpants a short way, and my big, furry dragon sack flops out. My rank ball musk spills out of my sweaty clothes, stinking worse than any part of my body has in days. Without missing a beat, he shoves his doggy snout into my thick crotch fur and takes a long, loud sniff. That has got to reek so bad; I'm kind of amazed. He pulls away and trembles slightly. I take a step back and hike up my waistband, guessing that he's about to puke everywhere. But he doesn't. He just smiles at me. "Amazing," he says, still trembling. Those dragon pheromones must work on anything.

I'm pretty stunned by all this, so I slowly turn around and sit down on the bench again. I bend forward and rest my elbows on my thighs as I think about what just happened. This guy is somehow immune to the one power I have in this world. Not just immune... he actually enjoys being my victim. I look up to see him presenting the seat of his pants to my face. "Your turn," I hear him say. "I smelled your scent. Now you have to smell mine. You promised, remember? This is how dogs greet each other." I chuckle tiredly and lightly sniff around the bottom of his tail. He's actually pretty funky; not enough to knock me to the floor, of course, but he could definitely be a stinker, too. He picks up his jacket from the back of the bench, then sits next to me again and lays the garment over his lap. "I was on my way to a job interview. It was the first place that would even give me a callback since I moved here. I can't go in there... smelling like this, though."

Oops. "Sorry," I say weakly. For once, I kind of mean it, too.

The coydog shakes his head. "It's OK. I don't think I was ready yet, anyway. They said they'll fit me in tomorrow. That means I'm free today." He looks down at his shirt, which is beginning to turn translucent with fresh sweat. "You aren't the only one who stinks, you know," he says bluntly. "I have hyperactive sweat glands. So, I constantly smell like a wet dog who's been sprayed by a skunk made of old socks." He raises his head and looks over at me. "At least I try to hide it. You're kind of a bully with yours. You know that?" he says. I flare my nostrils and almost deck him. I'm not the bully! I've earned this! This is my power, and it's what I deserve after all these years I spent being the world's whipping boy. People just need to learn to get out of my way! They used to snicker at me when I passed by; now, they throw up. They had it coming! "Do you want to... hang out here with me for a little while?" he asks, interrupting my internal raging. Hang out? I've never been invited to hang out in my life. I barely even know what it means.

I turn to him and smirk, then I offer my hand. "Name's Rex," I say. He takes my large furry hand with both of his smaller ones, and shakes it.

"Kaiser," the coydog says. "But, I just go by Kai. Yes, I'm... Kai the coydog. "

"Heh. Kaiser, and Rex," I say. "A great couple of kings we turned out to be."

Kai lifts up his jacket and begins slipping it back over his shoulders to cover up his sweaty shirt. "Well, I'm not going to smell better any time soon. Do you mind... showing me how you're able to pass so much gas?"

I grin, and start to stand up. "Heh. Alright. But you can't enjoy it. You have to pretend it's the worst thing you've ever smelled in your life. Got it?" I stand in front of him and raise my tail up, taking aim at his face. It's like second nature, by now.

BWWWOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNP.