FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It was another rainy day in the megapolis. Jace walked the waterlogged streets on his way home, heavy messenger bag hanging on his shoulder. His head hung down, only keeping his eyes on the asphalt to keep from stepping into any puddles. This hadn't been a good day in general. It wasn't just the weather, crying with him, that caused him to feel that way. No, he was pretty sure he was going to flunk out of college. The latest exam hadn't gone so well. Most of the questions had been informed guesses at best, or downright random ones at worst. He was smart enough to pass, he knew that, but life seemed to be conspiring against him. He was depressed, couldn't muster enough energy to break out of that grey fog, and focusing on studies in that state was almost impossible.

Jace was a very lonely raccoon, clawing his way through life best he could despite everything seemingly conspiring against him. His parents had been abusive and they'd lost him to an orphanage when he was seven years old, reported by their neighbours. Jace had been found on the brink of starvation, his parents charged and then sentenced with possession of several hard drugs. In particular, they used glint, one of the new 2030s epidemics that had quickly driven out most plant-based and even synthetic drugs that preceded it. While other drugs seldom did more than amplify already present emotions, glint forced the user into a state of uncontrollable arousal and euphoria, combined with the typical addiction. In other words, Jace's parents had been too busy fucking each other's brains out to care for him.

Cheap and easy to produce, as well as easily applied, glint had swept through most of the larger cities as a recreational drug, bringing productivity to an all-time low and spiking unemployment sky high. Applied on the skin, it was rapidly absorbed into a user's body, and had thus become popular among the criminal elements, used in robberies and worse to quickly incapacitate users.

Use of glint may cause heart attacks and early-onset Alzheimers, Jace thought to himself as he passed someone shivering in the gutter - probably a rat, although it was hard to tell - with the characteristic hair loss brought on my repeated use. Normally those PSAs and DARE classes were exaggerated, but in this case, he knew they were perfectly right. Not only had he lost his parents to that poison, but many of his friends. And when one was an introvert such as he, friends were a rare and precious commodity. The worst part of it was how genuinely happy everyone seemed to be on it. They didn't have to worry about exams and depression. It had made the raccoon extremely bitter towards most drugs. Bitter towards happy people, even. It was irrational, but if he couldn't feel happiness, it felt utterly unfair that others could just gel up their ears and paws and excape into bliss.

Jace realized he'd stopped to stare at the rat. He started back blindly, not really seeing anything. Probably on multiple drugs. He sighed, continuing on. The streets were littered with garbage. Megapolis had only recently began to climb back out of the glint epidemic, and as such, there weren't nearly enough workers to occupy the variety of menial jobs that society needed to keep its consuming machinery well oiled. The cracks had begun to show. The government and the corporations - more or less the same these days - weren't blameless either; the pay for such labor was miserably low, workers forced to live in class-C or D dwellings in the roughest areas. Monolithic apartment buildings from the 1960s, worn and often outright dangerous. With lives like that, it was then no wonder than many turned to drugs and crime. Nothing had happened for almost ten whole years, and even then, only when the upper classes had began to suffer, their houses and streets dirty just like the rest of the world. Then they'd financed clinics that specialized in treating addiction. Too little, too late; it'd take years in the double digits to recover.

The raccoon walked past multiple boarded up shops, the rain smattering against the metal. The best he'd managed, with his background, was the inner city college. It wasn't a bad place to study, but it was hopelessly underfunded, so even with passionate teachers giving it their all, they just weren't quite at the same level of quality as the privately funded places. It would, at least, be enough to save him from becoming homeless when he left the orphanage - where he was only allowed to stay this long because of his studies to begin with - next year. Homeless, or worse; working one of the many flavors of soul-crushing, hard, manual labor that ground down even the toughest and sturdiest of men. Women, too; the gears of industry didn't discriminate.

He wouldn't be going "home" quite yet. He needed a moment to clear his mind, at least a little bit. There wasn't much in the way of nature left this side of the country, even less so in the inner cities, but if one looked, they could find quiet, hidden nooks to just exist in. Jace's was underneath the great bridge connecting the two parts of the city; the mainland and the island portion. The island was where most of the middle and upper class lived, the mainland, in turn, was where all the industry and C-class dwellings were. Polluted, crowded, miserable.

But on one of his many times wandering throughout the city he'd discovered that he could get into the substructure of the bridge through a maintenance door, the lock on which had been broken. It had been used as a home by the homeless and addicts at some point, but the police had driven them out, and since then it hadn't been repopulated nor repaired, but instead left to rot like most parts of the city. But it was, at least, somewhere he could think.

A brisk breeze was blowing in from the sea, carrying with the scents of seawater and oil. The maintenance door was on the side of the bridge, near the point where it connected to the mainland, and easy enough to reach. It was strangely lonely, despite dozens of cars passing every minute; nobody walked across it, these days. The door swung upon with the usual rusty squeak, and Jace entered the short spiral staircase leading into the substructure. It was mainly a bunch of corrugated metal catwalks underneath and between the supporting beams, constantly vibrating from traffic passing overhead, but the sounds were pleasantly muted, and sitting there, with his legs dangling over the precipice of the abyss, was where the raccoon could finally think.

The view of the city was so strange from this angle. Though the bridge was fairly high up, it covered up most of the skyline. Instead, he had a view of the bay and all the marine traffic sailing in and out of the harbor. Enormous container ships full of similarly endless products for people to waste their money on, tankers full of oil and perhaps gasoline to fuel the fires of industry. A dozen years or so ago, he had been told, they used to have cruise ships coming in to dock here too, but all of those had moved to the smaller harbor on the island; the view of the city wasn't very flattering from the central harbors.

And so, he took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then exhaled, repeating the procedure. Maybe failing one exam wasn't the end of the world; he could always retake it, and if he actually managed to focus on studies, there was a chance that he'd even pass. Thinking about it, he realized that his problems probably ultimately stemmed from not having anyone to share his thoughts with. It'd help just being able to vocalize them, not just repeat them in his own mind.

Somewhere far away a cargo ship sounded its horn, perhaps to signal the beginning of its approach into the harbor. Maybe one day he'd be on one of those ships as they left the city behind. That was part of the reason he enjoyed sitting here. He liked thinking about the ships, their possible destinies, the crew and passengers on board each one. The fact that they all had lives, their own circles of friends, their own families and their own homes always helped him get some perspective on things; everyone had their own problems, and ultimately, none them were really anything in the grander scheme of things. Just the thoughts of a single organism in a city with millions, in a country with billions, on a planet with trillions, in a universe with unknowable numbers. No matter how insurmountable a problem seemed, that line of thinking was usually how Jace overcame them. It was a little nihilistic, perhaps, but it felt solid; no issue he'd ever encounter was ultimately anything on a cosmic scale.

His thoughts were interrupted by a particularly heavy truck passing overhead, shaking the catwalks. He wasn't really at any risk of falling - the guardrail was right in front of his chest - but it still gave him a sudden sense of vertigo. Sitting here felt a little like floating, suspended in the air high above the water. He tried to continue his train of thought, but it had been irreversibly derailed by the interruption, and that dark sense of melancholy descended on him again.

He looked around. There was some graffitti on the supporting beams, some of it old, some of it new. It was the usual stuff. "Fuck the police" one particularly ornate piece read. Others praised glint, which didn't do much to improve Jace's mood. On one of the walkways he could see an empty plastic packet, the typical way that dealers sold the drug in its usual gel form. It looked like there was some left inside it too, the users probably having forgot to take it with them while busy fucking each other. Alternatively, they'd fallen off the bridge in their inebriated states. Jace thought he could remember that happening recently; not that it was particular uncommon. With things the way they were, suicides were at an all time high.

That's when a particularly unpleasant, intrusive thought forced its way into the raccoon's head. Maybe I might as well try it, my life isn't going anywhere anyway. He grit his teeth, trying to force it out, to suppress it, but to no avail. He'd seen the drug ruin too many people. But on the other hand, maybe he could handle it, if he only tried it once? It wasn't like he had any contacts who could get him more, anyway. He didn't move, staring emptily into space. The ocean wind felt like it blew right through him, like he was a hollow, permeable shell, barely even present.

As always, the problem with thoughts like that was how hard they were to get rid of. Like memetic viruses that took a strangehold of the host's brain, forcing it into an ever more destructive spiral. He had escape - if only for an hour or so - laying in front of him, seductive and tantalizing. It wouldn't lead to anything good, he knew that, but he found himself reasoning that it couldn't lead to anything terribly bad either. For all of its dangers, at least the stuff took a long time to cause physical addiction, and psychological addiction, even if it occurred, would fade away since he had no realistic way of getting more. It was all terribly flawed logic, of course, and Jace knew that, but he was in a terrible mood again, an increasingly self-destructive one spiraling straight for disaster.

Finally, the raccoon stood up, snatched up that mostly empty pouch and had a gloser look. Glint had a rather pretty glittering effect to it when held up to a light, hence the name. Jace wrapped it up, taking great care to not spill any on his skin, and then slipped it one of the usually unused pockets in his messenger back, away from the books. It felt like he was doing everything on autopilot, and his logical mind kept screaming at him to just throw it off the side of the railing. He didn't, though, despite the terrible risk of getting caught with it at the orphanage. Granted, nobody usually cared about what he did, much less went through his bags.

Regardless, light was starting to fade, the sun setting behind the thick clouds of smog. Soon enough, it'd disappear behind the horizon. The people - or at least Jace's social circle - had taken to calling this period false-dusk, when the smog obscured the sunlight enough that it seemed to be setting, when it wouldn't actually set for another hour or so. While it was rather tragic, it had become a good method for poor children and families to tell time. "You start walking home at false-dusk, and you _are_home before the real one," the parents would say.

Well, Jace's wouldn't, they'd never really cared. The orphanage-keepers said it but didn't really mean it; for most of them, the children didn't actually matter. The work was just a paycheck. That was the sad reality of life in Megapolis. Jace climbed up the stairwell and closed the broken door as well as it could be closed behind him. At least the rain had stopped.

The raccoon had plenty of time to think about things on the way back, as he made his way through the city. He understood that he had to do _something_to break out of the negative state of mind he was in, but he didn't know what. Perhaps he could strike up a conversation with another of the youths at the orphanage. He didn't really know any of them, but they didn't seem like bad people. He'd just been too focused on his own life to really find any joy in talking with people. Such habits were hard to break, but he'd have to try.

Ugh, the exams. Need to focus. Can't focus. I wish they'd do something about all this litter. Or the beggars. I guess they're a kind of litter too, cast to the wayside by society. Not that I have any money to give. Exams. If I talk to someone, maybe. Talk to who? Haven't talked to anyone there for years. Not in depth. A little yes. Maybe. Or the drug. No, why would I ever consider that? But it would give me a chance to clear my mind. A reset button. Yes. But it's fucking horrible. But everyone else enjoys it. Just give in, Jace. You're missing out. Fuck that. Not a chance. The exams. Oh, could talk to Ethan. Exchanged a few words. Yeah, but not much. Eh, give it a shot.

When he arrived at the orphanage, the true sunset had taken place, and the world around him was illuminated by streetlights and neon signs instead. They still used neon signs in these parts; everywhere else had switched to more expensive full color displays. They were relics, more or less, and when they eventually burned out, nobody would be able to afford them. But for the time being, they provided a pleasant fiery glow that made the streets feel a little more homely. And there it was, standing tall between flickering lightpoles; the Marsh House Orphanage. A worn-down old apartment building repurposed into a home for abandoned chuldren. The positive side was that it meant every child had their own room. The negative one was that it was _very_worn down with little in the way of insulation, which meant the nights could get very cold in the winter. Luckily, that was still a ways off.

Of course, Jace wasn't a child anymore. It was his last year at that place. He couldn't honestly say that he'd miss it, although wherever he ended up might be worse. At least the caretakers hadn't been as negligent as his parents.

He greeted the receptionist, as he had every day the last ten or so years, with a small nod and a wave. She returned the gesture as the raccoon walked past her, trying his hardest not to appear suspicious, which of course made it all the more obvious that he was hiding something, at least in his own mind. His room was on the 12th floor, and with the elevators being out of order since years back, the only way up there was the stairs. A lot of them. At least it meant they didn't often get disturbed, since the staff hated walking up them just as much as Jace did. He did feel awfully sorry for whoever had gotten the 20th floor rooms. 12th was bad enough. Though the view must've been magnificent.

When he finally made it up there, he was exhausted and sweaty. Jace threw his bag in the corner, and as an afterthought, threw his jacket over it, as if to cover the shame of knowing that was in it. He told himself to not think about it or it'd turn into a tell-tale heart scenario and he'd end up cowering in a corner yelling about the drugs in his backpack to ease his conscience. He regretted having picked it up, now, but the other side of his mind - the Id, perhaps - was already planning on using it when everyone else was asleep.

Regardless, he had to talk to Ethan first. He was the only other person there that he knew even remotely well. Ethan was a rat, around the same age as Jace, similar situation in that he'd been taken from abusive parents, dissimilar in that his case hadn't involved any drugs. Ethan was, as far as the raccoon knew, quite into recreational drugs, although he'd never admitted to trying glint, preferring older, more "natural" drugs. He was also gay, and quite open about it, which was why the two had started talking. While the raccoon was naturally lonely, the rat was social but typically shunned by the others because of his perceived deviance.

Ethan was in his room as usual. Well, "room" was a misnomer, really; they were apartments. Very small apartments, but each had a tiny bathroom, one combined living room, and a little kitchen alcove. The same as the C-class apartments, effectively. They expected entire families to fit into them, but they didn't, which lead to a lot of the lower classes being outside as much as they could, except when they had to sleep. The orphanage was an exception to that, mainly due to there not being enough orpans to fill them. Things weren't that bad, not yet.

Jace gave Ethan's door a knock. There was no reply. He knocked again, and heard nothing. He tried the door, it swung open, and he caught the rat masturbating on his bed, feverishly stroking himself to a magazine he was holding with the other hand.

"For fuck's sake," Jace yelled, turning around and placing his paws on his head in a somewhat theatrical manner. "Have any drugs that wipe your memory?"

That sounded way too forced and awkward.

"Well, you could - huff - knock before you-" he replied, breathing heavily. "Hold on, I'm almost done. You could help if you-"

Jace slammed the door shut. At least he wasn't the most awkward person here. He could hear Ethan moaning out as he presumably reached climax. Jace stuck his fingers into his ears, humming to himself. He hoped the rat would at least clean up before getting back to him.

Where'd he even find one of those magazines? Mystery stash from 50 years ago? A gay one at that?

After a few more intensely awkward moments, the rat opened the door again, a dopey smile on his face. "All done. What'dya want?"

Jace went inside. The air in there was stale, almost humid, smelling like sweat, deodorant, arousal, and weed. Some people still smoked their drugs, something that'd always been confusing to Jace. It nearly made him gag, but he repressed the reflex.

He sat down on the bed. "I just needed someone to talk to," he began, pausing for a moment. "I'm not doing so well with my studies."

"Oh? Well, what's the problem? I don't think it's what's in there-" he tapped Jace's head "-but something else, you've always seemed smart enough to me."

"It's... hard to say," Jace replied. "It's like I can't think clearly, like I'm in a fog, depression maybe, I dunno, I thought talking about it would help."

The rat smirked. "It could. Or you could get high, that'll cure any depression you have."

It was typical, the way he'd always bring up drugs. Of course, that was an option, maybe. Jace felt like he had to do something.

"If you were rich enough they'd give you medicine, which is just drugs with another name. More socially acceptable, as they say," the rat continued. He seemed pretty high as it was. "Like glint. Did you know that started out as a medicine? Meant to cure sexual dysfunction, you know. Then when they found out it made your heart stop if you used it for too long, they got rid of it, after conviniently leaking the formula so all us poor people could kill ourselves with it."

"That's just a conspiracy theory," Jace pointed out.

"It's not a theory if it's true, man. I've tried the stuff. Yeah, it makes you hornier than a unicorn convention, but you can _feel_the stress it puts on your system. Though I wouldn't mind doing it once or twice with a sexy raccoon like you, might get you to loosen up a bit, if you know what I mean."

The rat sprung up as he spoke that last sentence, making a suggesting hip-thrusting motion towards the raccoon. Yep, definitely high as a kite.

"You know I'm not into that," Jace replied, tersely. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you just-"

"Yeaaah, came all over myself. Man, it was hot, too. But I'm a rat, man, we can go forever, it barely took the edge off!"

"Well, I did find some-" Jace began and instantly regretted saying anything as he saw the rat's eyes light up like those of a kid on Christmas eve.

"Glint? Man, why didn't you tell me? They might intend to kill us with it, but it feels great, man, we should-" he began babbling. "-just be on top of the world for one night, we could get on the roof and everything, I bet that'd cure any fucking depression, man!"

"Look, my parents, they..." Jace tried to explain.

"Yeah yeah, I know, they did too much of it you lost them to it, right? But it's not like we could get any more even if we wanted it, right?" he asked.

The angel on the raccoon's shoulder said no, but the corresponding devil was actually real and he was standing right next to him, saying yes, absolutely yes.

"It's not that much, it's like maybe a handful of the gel left in there, I, don't think it's enough?" he stammered, trying to find a way out. There wasn't one, as it turns out.

"It's usually pretty strong stuff. You rub it on your ears - or your cock, or any part that's not covered in fur really - and off you go. Don't need a lot, most people waste it by using way too much, but a thin layer is plenty-"

"Alright, alright, I get what you mean, damn," Jace replied. He was quickly developing a headache listening to his friend talk this much. Listening to anyone talk this much. "...so, what does it feel like?"

"Oh, you'll see. You might even change your mind about all this," Ethan replied, pointing at himself.

Jace doubted that. Sure, the rat didn't look bad for a male. He had a lanky, toned body covered in brown fur. Long, well-kempt hair, dyed blue, covering his head. Pretty handsome face, for a rat, but that was just it, he was handsome, not attractive. Jace just didn't swing that way.

Without any further comment, he went to his room, with Ethan in tow, unlocked the door and got his bag out. It felt heavy in his hand and heavier on his shoulder, like what he had in there had multiplied by ten, at least. A conscience was a heavy burden to bear, a violated one doubly so. He handed it over to Ethan, who felt no such weight. After all, he was the cause. In fact, he seemed positively exhilarated, hopping and skipping along, up all eight flights of stairs and even up the final ladder to the roof.

It wasn't exactly warm outside, but they could deal with that. Both men sat down right near the edge of the roof, on the side where it overlooked the city centre, leaning back against a bulky, sun-warmed air conditioner, still radiating heat despite the sun having set a while ago. It wasn't functioning, much like most other parts of the building, which was just as well; less noise and all that.

Despite all the dirt, trash and smog, Megapolis was still a stunning sight at night. A chaotic, yet stunning sight. A jumble of metal and concrete stretching far into the horizon. Countless skyscrapers lit up like Christmas trees. Far more apartment buildings similarly decorated. A dozen market districts, millions of signs for endless products, flashing, glowing, glittering, like the stars they drowned out would have, a hundred years ago. Ultimately, they served the same purpose as the stars once had; guiding lights that people looked towards to find their way. Further down there were the streets, full of people even now in the midnight hour, choked with cars, trucks, bikes, all going somewhere. It seemed so peaceful from up here, despite both raccoon and rat being intimately familiar with what kind of chaos it was to be there. Absolute pandemonium, a constant deafening wall of white noise from every direction, people walking down the street shoulder to shoulder, jam-packed, relentlessly striding towards their unknown destinies. Even the rich weren't exempt from that; tens of thousands of them worked in those skyscrapers, but they all had to take the same roads home as the poor.

"It's kinda beautiful, isn't it?" Jace finally asked, without turning his head away from the scene.

"Yeah. Beautiful and ugly. Beatugly? Uglyful?" the rat suggested.

"Uglyful sounds about right," the raccoon sighed.

Ethan began digging through Jace's bag. Pulling out the books and notepads.

"Man, what even is this? The Symbolic Species? The Language Instinct?" he asked aloud, before putting each one in a neat pile next to himself.

"Yeah, I'm doing a minor in linguistics, with a major in-" Jace began to explain.

"...with a major in computer science, going by these books," Ethan finished for him. "Oh, and here's the good stuff, let's see how much we got..." he exclaimed, pulling out the plastic packet.

Jace looked at the rat, and then at the pouch. It didn't look like much, and in the dim lighting of the rooftop, it just looked like any other gel. Nothing spectacular. To think of what kind of effects it had was weird, considering its mundanity; a few atoms arranged in the right shapes turned it from something inactive, just a simple gel, into a potent euphoriant, aphrodisiac, and ruiner of lives.

"Oh man, this is plenty," the rat finally spoke, squeezing the bag to measure it. "If it's even close to pure, we're both off to la-la land very soon," he continued.

Then, he gave Jace a surprisingly guilty look, some sudden spark of conscience. "...if you're sure you want to actually do it, I mean, it's pretty bad stuff. Look, I'll be honest," he spoke, slowly, sounding more serious than usual. "You'll probably get hooked on it. Mentally, I mean. It'll take a week or two to pass, as long as you don't get any more. I'm saying, like urges to do more, sorta like how you get urges to paw off, right? It's like that. Do you think you can deal with that?" he asked.

Jace considered it for a moment. It was more or less his last chance to back out. But what better option did he have, he asked himself. He couldn't afford a therapist. The counsellor at the college wasn't any good. He didn't have any friends other than Ethan, and even then, just barely. That left him with two choices. One, buckle down and wait for the depression to lift, possibly ruining his education if he couldn't do any better. Two, hope that a shock to his system would break him out of it, possibly ruining his life if he got addicted or arrested.

"Yeah, I can," he replied. A wide grin spread on Ethan's muzzle as he unrolled the bag. "So uh, how do we do it?"

"What's the most sensitive part of your body, man? Err, the most sensitive part that you'd be alright with me rubbing," the rat asked, quickly correcting himself when he saw Jace's expression. "Yeah, not that I'd want to touch your cock anyway."

Sure you don't.

"I guess my ears? There's not much fur on the inside?" the raccoon suggested, tentatively touching his ears to make sure. Sure, there was a tuft of fur, but it was sparse, far less than anywhere else on his body. Except for his cock and ass and he certainly wouldn't let Ethan near either of those.

"Ears? Yeah, look at those big soundcatchers," Ethan commented. "Alright, we'll do you first, just lean back and let me rub it in."

Jace leaned back into the air conditioner. The rat positioned himself next to his friend, and stuck his hand into the bag, scooping up about half the gel. Jace could hear his breath quickening, as if this was extremely exciting to him. To each their own, he supposed. If nothing else, at least this'd let him get over his bitterness about drugs, especially when he didn't feel anything, or easily overpowered the effects.

Ethan pulled gently on the raccoon's right ear with his clean hand, and then rubbed a gel-covered finger into the inner, almost bare part of the ear, along the ridge of the cartilage, working in circles and dipping his finger into the gel every now and then. Jace shuddered at the cooling sensation, but there wasn't much else yet. At least having someone rub his ears was comforting. The kind of thing he wished his parents had done, or that a lover would do.

The rat worked the gel into his skin, deeper and deeper into his ear until he didn't dare get his fingers any deeper, and then moved onto the other ear, squeezing out some more gel onto his paw. There was a mild electrical sensation, radiating from the raccoon's ear, now. Like holding a battery against your tongue, but a little nicer. It spread downwards into his body, the drug having been absorbed into his bloodstream. A tickling, tingling, even burning sensation gradually increasing.

He noticed Ethan scooting a little closer to him and felt something firm poke at his arm. Glancing down he realized the rat had pulled his cock out again, stroking it slowly. The long, slender thing was jutting right out of the open fly, obscenely bobbing in the open air, shiny and wet and strongly smelling of semen.

"What the fuck, Eth-" Jace exclaimed.

And then it hit him. A euphoric numbness swept through him, and he slouched into the rat. For a moment, he felt like he was floating out of his body somewhere, far above the clouds of smog. A profound sense of contentedness, like everything was right in the world. Like he was melding together with the universe, every atom of his body melting away into pure pleasure. He was vaguely aware of his shirt being pulled off, over his head, but it didn't matter. For a few seconds, anyway.

Then, he was suddenly back in his body, fur bristling in the cool night air. He could feel the rat's fingers tracing through his fur, across his naked belly and chest, and it was wonderful. Every stand of fur brushed vibrated with pleasure.

"That's it, just let it wash over you. You're feeling it, aren't you? Yeah, I can tell..." the rat murmured as he kept Jace, causing him to melt into his arms.

The raccoon had never seen this side of him, never known how seductive he could be. Gone was the dirty, somewhat weird rat, replaced by this beautiful studly male making him feel so good. Even his cock felt great as it rubbed against his soft fur, so firm and hot. He was laying on his back now with his upper body in the sitting rat's lap. He didn't exactly remember moving, but he didn't mind it much with what felt like electric currents of pleasure shooting through him with each new part of him that the rat caressed.

He wasn't supposed to like, he remembered that much, but there was no denying the fact that it felt incredible. Jace opened his eyes, realizing that they'd been closed this whole time, and gasped at how vivid everything was, colours that he'd never seen before bleeding into the sky from the city lights, reminding him of pictures of aurora borealis. Turning his head, which was resting against the rat's chest, he stared over the city again. It looked more like paradise now, drowned in vivid colours, humming with life, the streetlights and lit windows like true stars rather than cheap artificial copies. The ugliness of their urban hell was gone for that brief time, replaced by absolute beauty.

Ethan took to licking and gnawing on one of his ears, and it felt like a choir of angels, each little pinch of those blunt teeth on his oh-so-sensitive skin sending him into paroxysms of pleasure. It wasn't until the rat unbuttoned his worn jeans that he realized just how hard he was. His cock sprung free, hard as steel, and Jace couldn't stop staring at it. It looked so appetizing. He flexed his perineal muscles and watched his length bob, profusely leaking, strands of glistening wetness connecting the tip to the fur on his belly. Then the rat wrapped his warm, nimble fingers around it, and he came immediately. The raccoon moaned out loud, a breathy, high-pitched sound, as intense pleasure blanked out his mind. It crashed down on him like a tidal wave, thick ropes of his pearly white seed splattering onto his chest and even reaching his muzzle through the sheer force of it. It was overwhelming, ineffable. Instinctively, he licked around his lips for globs of his cum, the normally bitter taste suddenly like a fine wine.

"That's a good 'coon," he heard the rat say, his voice sounding like it was coming from another room as the raccoon rode out his first glint-fueled orgasm, leaving him a panting hot mess in the other male's arms.

Even after the spurts slowed to just a dribble, he didn't go soft. His whole universe was centred on sheer primal ecstasy. Ethan eased him down onto the ground, placing the backpack like a pillow behind his head, and then straddled the coon's messy chest. With his cock pressed against Jace's nose, he properly took in his smell for the first time. The rat smelled spicy, virile, like ginger, musk and stale cum, and it was the best thing he'd ever smelled. He needed more of it. In a sober state he'd never even have considered it, but right now it was irresistible, enchanting, hypnotic. He opened his mouth and hungrily started lapping at his friend's unwashed maleness.

"Go on, you can suck it if you want. I told you you'd love it," the rat smirked as the raccoon's tongue wrapped around his length. Another heartbeat, and his wet muzzle was around the murine length, suckling on it like his life depended on it.

Jace had no idea what he was doing, but he desperately wanted to share some of the intense pleasure still reverberating through his body with the rat, and so he sucked, pressing his tongue into the sensitive underside of his friend's cockhead, lapping and rubbing. The rat began to rock his hips, sliding deeper into the coon's grey muzzle, deeper into that blissful warmth.

Ethan knew he was taking advantage of his friend. He hadn't applied any of the glint to himself, preferring his mind to be clear as he did this. Plus this way there'd be enough left to get into the raccoon's pants again, and preferably under his tail, later. There had been some semblance of guilt in his mind, but ultimately the seductive idea of fucking his straight friend had won out, and there he was now, his cock sliding in and out of Jace's inexperienced maw, rubbing deliciously into the soft flesh inside. He was quickly getting ready to blow, to give his friend his very first taste of another male's cum.

Jace, meanwhile, was completely lost in sensations. The slick, firm flesh sliding through his pursed lips was euphoric, and he happily let the rat use his muzzle as his cocksleeve. He'd never imagined that being with another man would feel this good.

"Here it comes, Jace. Swallow every drop," the rat moaned, his rump tensing and balls tightening up his body as he grabbed the raccoon's head and forced himself all the way in, hilting his cock into the warmth and pressing his friend's nose into his crotch.

He throbbed once, then again, and on the third twitch the first spurt of cum splattered against the back of the raccoon's throat. He instinctively swallowed, soaking in the feeling of that thick, slimy heat sliding down his throat. The rat withdrew halfway to make sure his friend would get a proper taste of his seed, and the next rope of cum covered Jace's tongue. It tasted just like his own, bitter but wonderful, but it was the consistency that truly enthralled him. The way the thick, stringy globs slid over his tongue, spreading their flavour and coating his mouth in a thin film of seed, seeking to impregnate a female that wasn't there.

It didn't last long. The rat had already masturbated twice earlier, so he didn't have much left to give. He pulled out, leaving his friend licking his lips for more of the stuff, even going so far as forcing his relaxed hands to scoop up some of his own cum from his belly and then sucking his fingers clean, as if the stuff was ambrosia. He was in heaven at last.

And then, as quickly as it had hit him, the drug wore off. Tension returned to his muscles, anxiety to his mind, and it took him a moment to figure out what had just happened. He coughed, bringing up foul-tasting slime that felt like it coated his whole mouth.

"What the fuck did you just do?" he cried out between cough. "You fucking asshole!"

He grabbed one of his books and threw it at the rat who was just stuffing his cock back into his pants and buttoning them. It impacted corner first into his stomach and he stepped back, barely resisting doubling over from the pain.

"I'm straight, you fucking idiot!" Jace yelled, spitting on the rooftop in a vain attempt to get rid of the taste.

"Didn't seem that straight while sucking my cock," he rat fired back angrily.

"Fuck you, get the fuck out," Jace answered, throwing another book at him, one which the rat managed to dodge before turning around.

"Yeah, I'm out. I just wanted to do something nice-" he said, before the raccoon cut him off.

"_Nice?_You drugged me and took advantage!" he yelled.

"You drugged yourself, you dumb slut. And you liked it too, man. Just come see me when you want to feel like that again," the rat yelled back even as he walked to the roof door. And then he was gone, leaving the raccoon seething.

If he'd felt bad before, he felt a thousand times worse now. Not only did the drug give him an instant hangover, feeling like his brain had been through a paper shredder. Not only did he throw up in a sudden fit on nausea, his only friend has violated him.

He punched the air conditioner hard enough to dent it. And then he punched it again as tears began to flow. Sobbing, he hammered on the metal until his knuckles were raw and bleeding.

Why the fuck did I even do this?

He felt violated, disgusted,betrayed. It wasn't just Ethan's actions either, it was his own lacking judgement, triggering a profound disappointment in himself. He curled up on the cooling roof, trying but failing not to cry.

Should just jump off right now. Just end it. It can't be any worse than this. But I'm too much of a coward to even do that.

He wiped up his tears with his discarded shirt, but more kept coming. Why did everything always go wrong for him? He couldn't even enjoy a brief moment of happiness in all this shit.

Eventually, he managed to gather himself enough get his clothes back on, still reeking of cum both his own and Ethan's. He'd shower until his fur fell of, scrub until his skin was bleeding like it should. He gathered the books, the almost empty plastic bag, and stuffed it all into his bag. He could hear some pages get torn, which only served to fuel that negative state. Just barely did he manage to not throw the whole thing off the side of the roof.

He returned to his room, turned on the shower in his tiny bathroom, and sat down, rubbing soap into his fur over and over. The tears came back. And the worst thing about it all was he just wanted the good feelings to return, to just rub whatever remained of the drug on him. It was like a thorn in his mind, which felt just as beaten and sore as his body would after hours of scouring every last molecule of cum out of his fur.

At some point the water was cut off. Budgetary reasons. There'd be no water for the night. But at least Jace was feeling a little better at that point. He thought it strange but not unwelcome how his mind started to form excuses. I mean, you did do an aphrodisiac drug with someone you knew wanted to fuck you. What did you think was going to happen? Besides, it's not as if he raped you, he just took advantage. Maybe it was just what you needed anyway. He couldn't help but believe the thoughts to some extent, either. It was more comfortable, more reassuring. It really wasn't like him to react like that at all, to almost anything, so it was probably the drug. I wonder how it'd feel smeared on my cock instead of the ears?

He managed to drag his damp body to bed eventually, and sleep came quickly. Tomorrow would be a new day. Deep, dreamless sleep carried Jace off to oblivion.

A new day it was, but everyone was woken up by loud knocking on their doors. A rapid sequence of knocks that some charitable soul was doing to inform the upper floor residents of what was to happen. Dizzy and feeling like death, Jace could barely get his brain in gear to understand it. Luckily, he had a morse code poster on the wall. The knocks went O-L-I-C-E- fuck.

Every now and then the orphanage got search by the authorities, primarily for drugs but also weapons, "for their own protection; there's a very real risk that criminal elements will attempt to misguide our less fortunate youth..." was what the police chief had said. A German shepherd, of course. What else would he be, except perhaps a pig? There were barely any raccoons on the police force, and definitely no rats, possums, the typically disadvantaged.

Jace scrambled to his feet, his head feeling like it was going to erupt like a volcano. The little bit of Glint that remained would be enough for them to throw the book at him, and the searches were quite thorough, so hiding it was risky. It might get stuck in the toilet and cause flooding. Someone might see him throw it out through the window. Fuck fuck fuck.

They didn't normally have time to take blood samples from everyone. There wasn't enough of it to kill him. Plastic would probably pass through his digestive system intact. It might also kill him, but so would prison. So Jace did what any panicking teenager abruptly roused from sleep would do; he crumpled up the bag, praying it wouldn't be torn open, and swallowed it. He almost choked several times, then almost vomited, but copious amounts of water finally forced it down his throat and into his belly.

He heard some commotion from the hallway. Just in time?

Opening the door and stepping outside, he saw Ethan getting manhandled by the police. While it wasn't something he wanted to see, he couldn't help but feel a little vindicated. He was protesting against his room getting searched, and the response to that was a taser to the midriff and handcuffs. Chances were they'd find something, but either way it meant Jace's room was next. He felt extremely anxious on top of the hangover-like nausea.

Jace was starting to feel strange. Maybe it was the anxiety, or maybe the bag was leaking. It probably was, having only been rolled up as tight as it could go. He'd never heard of anyone actually ingesting glint, so presumably it wasn't active that way. Surely it couldn't be toxic either, the stomach is pretty good at breaking things down, he told himself. He felt like he was watching things unfold through a spyglass far away. Time wasn't passing like it normally would. One second Ethan was writhing on the floor under one of the black-clad officers, the next he was being escorted out. Events slowed down and sped up randomly. One of the cops asked Jace something, and he shook his head, managing to make a motion like zipping up his mouth. He hoped they'd take that as him being mute.

They were done searching his room, moving over to the next at lightning speed before slowing down again. Jace walked in, very slowly and deliberately, only to collapse the instant he closed the door behind him. Oh, this wasn't good. His sense of time wasn't the only thing to get warped; colours were entirely wrong, too. Some were too bright, so intense they almost hurt to look at, while others weren't there at all, only leaving a muted greyscale. What did blue look like again? Oh yes, it was... he held his paw up to his face. Right, that colour.

On the positive side, he didn't feel like he was dying anymore. The headache was gone. On the other, the bizarre dizziness brought on by the drug was starting to feel like something else entirely. A confusing arousal that he couldn't address properly with gravity a thousandfold stronger, keeping him pinned to the floor. The physical excitement felt like an old friend, a familiar feeling that actually existed in reality, and he found himself focusing on that to ward off the intruding hallucinations. He could feel Ethan's cock in his maw again, spreading his mouth wide open, and in this state it wasn't so bad. The raccoon was rubbing himself through his jeans to the idea of just being used, in a permanent state of bliss between drugs and gay sex. He passed out - or blacked out, rather - before reaching any kind of climax.

Waking up this time was even harder. His back ached. His cock ached, feeling like it'd been sandpapered, and the first thing his nose picked up was the scent of his own cum. Oh. There was a bitter, salty taste in his mouth, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what'd happened.

He didn't feel terrible, which was a bonus, and the drug had mostly worn off by the time he managed to force his eyes open. Colours were still a little off, but he'd apparently slept - or masturbated - through most of the hangover. What time is it, even?

Jace managed to get back on his feet. Yeah.Definitely never touching that shit again, he told himself, looking at the mess. Things were strewn all across the room, his pants were missing, and there was what he could only assume was his own dried cum all of his shirt and muzzle. At least this time, he'd been alone. Cleaning up took the entire night. According to his "neighbours", the police hadn't found anything in Ethan's room, but they took him in anyway because of disruptive behaviour and resisting authorities. Typical, but at least he'd be back. Jace wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or angry; on one hand, the rat had violated him. On the other, he was the only "friend" that he had in this place.

The aftermath of his experiences was still tangible. It was hard to keep track of time, and exactly which day it was kept slipping from his memory. Luckily, he still had his cell phone, which revealed it to be Sunday each time he checked. At least he wouldn't have to go to school in this state, which was preferable. It was almost like being in a fugue state, but not quite so drastic. More like a mental mist from which his thoughts kept emerging, only to disappear back into it a moment later. A rather painful mist. The headache had been going on for so long that it felt compounded by the soreness it caused.

The rain was gently tapping on his windowsill. At least knowing that the day outside was as gloomy as his own state of mind helped, somehow, soothing the pains and anxieties. Jace laid there, on his bed, staring at the ceiling and looking for patterns in the rough texture, letting his thoughts wander. Technically, he realized he should be studying, but in this state, it was out of the question. Instead, he thought about the last couple of days. Or at least what he thought were the last couple of days, it wasn't easy to tell.

The burning question was whether or not he was actually attracted to males. Certainly he wasn't attracted to Ethan, and the raccoon preferred thinking that he preferred females. It was something he thought about a lot, perhaps to a worrying degree. Maybe sexuality wasn't as hardwired as they'd like one to think. After all, he'd quite enjoyed the rat's cock while high on glint. Certainly, it warped thoughts and behaviour, but drugs couldn't create something ex nihilo; whatever they distorted had to already exist in the body or mind to begin with. Did that mean he was bisexual to some extent? It might. Or was he lying to himself to try to make what happened less awful? That was also a distinct possibility.

Maybe what he needed was friends. College would probably be good for that, but he hadn't had much luck yet. Another option would perhaps be going to a club. None of the classier places would let someone like himself in, except perhaps a gay place. He did look good with the body to match, and he was young. But then again, how many friends could one make at a club, particularly if everyone was there only for carnal reasons? Still it was an option. Having real friends would probably help dispel the depression and the anxieties he was struggling with. But it was a terrible catch-22. He was too anxious to make friends, at least easily, and without friends he'd probably remain anxious.

He noticed the shifting, multicolour glow of the billboards and signs outside had crept back inside through his blinds. Apparently, it was night again. Must've fallen asleep, he thought. The headache was mostly gone, he could stand up without overwhelming dizziness, and time was almost back to normal. He checked his phone again. Three AM, Monday. He'd have school in the morning, though the Mondays were mercifully short. Functional programming, he seemed to recall.

Jace absolutely did not feel like going to school, still shaken by his recent experiences as he was, but there was precious little else to do. Everyone else was asleep and the streets were a little too dangerous this late in this part of the city, even for a street-smart raccoon like himself.

At least that problem was something his generation was great at solving; he excelled at wasting time, thanks to the wonders of the Internet. At least the orphanage had that, even though it was slow and relied on cables from the 90s. It was enough to make him wish he'd just gotten a menial job instead of staying here for the two additional years of college. Well, maybe not, but even a D-class dwelling was least a _little_better in every way.

Soon enough, it was morning. The rain had stopped, though it looked very temporary, with the heavy grey clouds still lingering over the area. At that point, Jace was finally feeling normal, except for a slight gnawing urge - the beginnings of an addiction, perhaps - to try to get more of that precious gel. It'll fade in a few days, he told himself, walking down the street and towards his school. There weren't many people around. The workers had already been at their assembly lines hours ago, and the criminal underbelly of the city was fast asleep. It almost made the place seem peaceful, serene even. A quiet oasis of garbage and slightly acidic puddles left by yesterday's rain. About as good as it got.

The college was a true sanctum. Sure, it was no university, but it was still something where he could pursue the one thing that he was very good at, beyond frittering away time. Studying. Simply taking in new information and forming a synthesis. Programming was simple; a number, admittedly a large one, of components that consistently added up to a logical result. With all factors known, knowing the conclusion wasn't a big leap, and unlike many others, Jace could - as he would call it - unfocus his mind, looking at the greater whole as a network of interconnected pieces. The other end of his studies was different. Natural languages weren't logical. Certainly, they had, similar to computer languages, a number of interconnected pieces that worked together to produce a meaning beyond the sum of their parts. The problem was that the end result oftentimes was impossible to deduce without knowing it beforehand.

He thought of the phrase "to kick the bucket". None of the words implied death, nor did the end product, and yet, it had a distinct meaning completely isolated from the words used to express it. It was self-reflective in some way. Jace often thought of himself as a strange jumble of sorts, a bunch of spare parts arranged in this specific way for no rhyme or reason. He was an orphan raccoon, yet going to higher studies nonetheless. He was asocial and untrusting, but still elected to try that drug with someone who was barely a friend. Perhaps most of all, he had just been taken advantage of - raped, perhaps, though he associated that with more violent acts - and yet he couldn't stop thinking about his sexuality.

What sense did that make? Why was he only now considering that he might be attracted to men as well as women? None of it made any sense. Exposure to cock would hardly cause a shift in sexuality. Maybe the drug had knocked some part of his brain loose. After all, it was an aphrodisiac, and while it'd been a while since he had it, he had taken it in a way never intended.

Either that, or that trauma had simply forced him into introspection. He just didn't know. That was why he preferred looking at data over pondering the human condition. It was simple, logical and comforting.

The computer lab felt isolated from the outside world. No windows, not a glimpse of daylight even when the door was opened, with the outside corridor being downstairs in the basement. Usually, it was empty; not a lot of students did computer science. But it did mean he had a lot of time with his instructors.

Today, however, was different. There was one person there, other than Jace. A wolf, fairly athletic, dressed in a tank top and shorts, as if trying to show off as much of his lustrous grey fur as possible. Even through the fur, Jace could tell he had some muscle. Not too much, but certainly more than the scrawny raccoon himself had. Wolves, being big and strong with typically close-knit families, were rare in this part of the city, but not exactly non-existent, as this one proved. What made it stranger was his build, his clothes; he didn't look like the kind of person who'd take up programming. Still, he seemed to be hard at work at his computer, tapping away at the keys. Interesting.

Jace went to work on his own project. It was nothing terribly advanced, just programming a simple connect five style game, but it was still good exercise. He was able to focus purely on that for a good hour or so, which was a relief, taking his mind off things. It wasn't exciting, exactly, but it was something he could pour all his attention and intelligence into. A job he could do, if future employers allowed him to.

His concentration was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. The raccoon turned around and the wolf addressed him.

"Hey, I don't think we've met before? I'm Leo," he said.

"Uh, I'm Jace. No, we probably haven't met. I usually-" Jace answered, pausing for a moment. "-keep to myself, really."

"Well, I thought I'd introduce myself. I don't suppose you want to go somewhere after school? You look a bit down, and I'd love to cheer you up," he said.

Wow, was he ever straight to the point. Am I being asked out? Jace wasn't quite sure, not having too much experience with most things social.

"Well, I was planning to..." he managed to reply. "Actually, sure, we can," he continued, immediately regretting it as he felt the weight of social obligations. He just wanted to be alone, but some part of him had decided that he needed friends more than solitude right now.

"Great! Movies, videogames, the club maybe?"

"The club"? There were more than a few around and the raccoon wasn't sure if he was supposed to know which club Leo meant. Did he look like someone who frequented nightclubs?

"Games sound good," he answered. "But I uh... have a bit of a situation at my place," he said, not wanting to reveal that he still lived at the orphanage. No better way to totally alienate someone new.

"Oh, I feel you on that. We can hang out at my place. I live almost next door. D-class dwelling but it's cosy enough, and I have a console that's only..." he counted on his fingers. "Five years old!"

They decided that he'd go there after he finished his coding for the day. Jace could feel anxiety settling into his stomach like a clump of concrete. What'd he just agreed to? Going to a stranger's place to play videogames? He supposed it was something that normal people did, but oh gods, he wasn't ready at all.

Somehow, the prospect of this felt was much scarier than anything in the last few days. He needed something, anything, any escape from his mind to actually have the courage to do it. Especially if the wolf was flirting, which he probably wasn't, not with a worthless raccoon like Jace, but just the idea made his heart flutter, beating erratically in what felt like a slowly escalating panic attack. He took a deep breath, trying to focus on the code after the wolf had left, but it wasn't working. Normally he'd destress with solitude, preferably under the bridge, but there was no time to go there, just the walk took an hour.

He was too young to buy alcohol. At least in this country. There was only one thing he knew would work.