FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The afternoon bell screeched like a banshee. Students jumped out of their desks with antsy relief. The teachers failed at mentioning last-minute requests regarding homework and what to expect following Christmas break. Most of my classmates already had their winter jackets ready, others left something behind in the lockers, while a majority stared down at their phones while trekking from the hallways into the shivering Midwestern winter.

Me? I remained in the packed hallway, glancing between my cracked phone, the grimy tiled floor, and looked through the swarm of students eagerly leaving final period.

Leaning against my closed locker and holding my spotted arms close to my chest, I started to regret not bringing a coat. Dad had been in the kitchen when I woke up that morning, so I'd been in a haste to leave without bringing my winter coat, the same one that helped African-descended mammals like me survive the blistering cold expected from Illinois in late December.

At least it's not gonna snow tonight, I mused, giving a sidelong glance to a tiger jock named Bill as he chatted with a vixen from the cheerleading squad. His trousers did little to quell the imagination of any teenager--gay or female. Mmm, still got a nice ass too. I hope he takes the time to hire me again.

Finally, I spotted the last of Mr. Landers' students leave his classroom.

"Mr. Landers?" I rapped my knuckles on the wooden door. "You busy?"

The middle-aged Labrador behind his desk looked up. The drooping skin on his cheeks, greying hairs in his fur and the hint of a beer belly did little to decrease the fact he had once been a lady's man during the Eighties. His blue eyes were sharp as well, either switching between icy or tropical warm depending on his mood. They also contained the familiar glint of lust I'd seen in prospective customers.

"Oh. H-Hello, Charlie--I mean, Mr. Rochford. How're..." He fidgeted slightly, looking to me and behind the open door, "How're you today?"

Not the best actor, admittedly. Whatever. If it'd help ease the poor fellow's mind, I went and followed the cliched script.

"I'm good," I shrugged inanely, curling my feline tail as a small chill crept in, "Listen, uh, my dad and older brother can't pick me up. Would ya be able to drive me home?"

Mr. Landers licked his lip. "S-Sure thing, Mr. Rochford. No problem."

He didn't even ask why I didn't use the school bus to get home.

Nonchalantly, I waited for the Labrador to gather his teacher's briefcase and long coat before following him down the corridor. Neither of us spoke a word. Few remaining furs my age could be seen. Still, we were quick paced without drawing attention to ourselves. Not to the security guy who nodded at Mr. Landers, not when we passed the main office, not even as we were careful to watch out for black ice in the parking lot. To anybody staying behind, he was just a devoted teacher agreeing to help get his student home for the holidays. The sexual tension in and of itself almost kept me warm.

Well, almost.

"Brrr!" I shivered, holding my arms close to my chest. My tail curled at the biting windchill climbing over the dwindling rows of cars. Again, I regretted not taking my thicker coat. "I'm fucking freezing..."

"Don't worry, we're almost there..." he said, then his teeth chattered as a large gust of wind picked up some snowfall and hurled it in our direction. The Labrador tried making a joke, "Sheesh, and this is why I'm never moving to Wisconsin...hehe."

"Haha," I awkwardly laughed. The cold caused me to somewhat stutter, "G-Good o-one."

Mr. Landers' vehicle had certainly seen better days. The icy Illinois weather and snow-laced frost practically filled in the few dents on his lime-green sedan. It came complete with the ugliest brown of an interior I'd ever seen, more so than even the horrendous state of Dad's messy truck. Still, it beat being out on the street.

Once I entered, the familiar, stuffy scents of a married high school teacher's car hit me in waves. Some of the overwhelming smells caused my fur to prickle. One used cigarette. No, two. An emptied Burger Knight meal bag hidden somewhere in the backseat. Stains of coffee from the recent past here and there on the rim of the cupholder. An ancient tree-shaped car freshener hung above the dashboard, swinging back and forth from the rearview mirror until I closed the door beside me.

"Phew," Mr. Landers started up the sedan's engine, having scraped enough frost away to see through the windshield. "Here, lemme heat you up a bit."

I almost assumed he meant getting right down to business ("Hey, Mr. Landers, are you sure it's okay to fuck me right here in the parking lot?" I almost asked, nonsensically), until the Labrador turned up the heat. In a minute or two, pleasant gusts of warm air washed over my nose, tickling the whiskers and my ocelot ears already freezing to death. Well, not literally.

"Mmmmm, thanks..." I softly purred, leaning closer to the vents on my side.

"Okay then." He gave a nervous laugh. "Then uh, we...we better get going then."

Guided by Mr. Landers, the sedan slowly retreated from its parking spot and exited the lot, passing by some crossing guards and students fleeing the cold. I couldn't help but watch the older canine visibly try to seem inconspicuous inside his own vehicle. The Labrador's black-and-greying fur creased across his long tan muzzle as he looked left and right and behind him, continuously acting like anybody outside the sedan's doors were staring at us across the street. Like, they already knew about his dirty little secret.

To be fair on his behalf, a significant portion of Washington High knew mine. I'd hardly even go so far as call it a complete secret. An open secret, perhaps. Mr. Landers stood out from typical older johns I let fuck me from time to time. Aside from the standard wife and cubs to decorate the closet door he lived in, what surprised me the most involved his sense of integrity. Mainly, that he only decided to ask me for a blowjob or fuck session once I no longer attended his AP History class during my junior year, and especially only after my eighteenth birthday arrived in May. Me being underage at the time was a huge dealbreaker for him.

He'd known about what I provided for a long time, but unlike a couple of the other older furs I allowed to discreetly use me in the past (such as ex-Coach Grumman, currently residing in prison for sexual harassment, as well as a couple creepy johns at the truck stops), Mr. Landers refused to see age as a number. He had standards against doing it with jailbait, unlike the ex-coach who introduced me to the trade in the first place. Thus, he waited until I passed his class at the end of the school year--my eighteenth birthday falling on May 4th--before asking me for my 'services'.

"You didn't bring a jacket," Mr. Landers stated at some point.

"I know," I half-chuckled, rubbing my fingers together and offering him a smile. "So, how was your day?"

"Oh, you know...so and so..." he trailed off slightly, refocusing on the road. "One of your classmates tried to cheat on today's quiz by hiding the answers on his pencil. I won't tell who though..."

"Stan Renard, wasn't it?" I partly smirked, now feeling the circulation return to my fingers again. "Dude was bragging about it to anyone who would listen on the morning bus."

"Either he isn't too bright," the Labrador suggested, "or he wanted to get into trouble with me."

"We may never know..." I joked, eliciting a low laugh from my customer for the night.

Aside from a couple anecdotes or an awkward glance, me and Mr. Landers spoke very little during the drive. According to the sedan's radio clock, playing a smooth ballad of soft rock and an hour off the correct time, it was half past three o' clock. Despite the time, yellow streaks of sunlight could barely be distinguished over the Christmas lights adorning almost every single house we passed. Some of the ice and snow and slush even reflected it back into the car. They reminded me of neon signs atop Lakertown's downtown buildings.

My town dwelled on the outskirts of Lakertown as a suburb for those who couldn't tolerate living in the city, let alone afford it. Very little helped make it stand out against the other median-to-low-income suburbs. However, I always found a small, quaint charm to the way it looked whenever the holidays rolled around. The Christmas decorations were always trite and sometimes too neon, like it was some competition families tried winning every year. My dad and brothers never got involved in it though, not with the limited amount of money to pay for the month's upcoming electric bill.

We suddenly stopped. "Huh?" I blinked.

As soon as Mr. Landers' right paw began resting atop my left knee, I pulled back from my daydreams to find ourselves parked in the abandoned parking lot of a closed-down mini-mall, the trees behind us giving good cover.

The dashboard grew dark as the lights turned off, pulling the interior into darkness.

"Mr. Landers?" I whispered.

Smiling at me, the silhouetted Labrador handed me the six twenty-dollar bills as per our agreement, having the decency to wait for me to pocket it before doing anything.

"Oh, wow, Mr. Landers..." I giggled at his cautious fingers, roaming up my shivering upper thigh until they stroked my beltline. "Eager now, are we?"

"Mhm," he grunted enthusiastically, leaning forward to inhale my feline musk along my neck with his cold wet nose, "I hope you aren't too cold?"

A long purr escaped the back of my throat, resonating with each lick he made, "Not with a big dog to keep me warm." I told him. "Can you keep me warm, Mr. Landers?"

"Uh huh. Absolutely, Charlie," he murmured huskily. "Oh yeah..."

With the thick bills stashed in my left pocket, I didn't object to the rubbing or touching, or how he caressed the sides of my lithe body. He owned me for the next hour. I allowed him full access to reach over and blindly grope whatever he wanted to feel; lithe legs, warm thighs, soft-furred stomach, the perked nipples on my chest, my sensitive tail as it twitched at the foreign fingers fondling the base, then cautiously lingering above the waistline leading to forbidden territory. The way his paw trembled through my prickling fur revealed how much he yearned to explore.

"C-Can I touch you back there?"

Experience taught me to let the john go with the motions but know where to draw the line. Unless they had extra cash to spend, I never let them go beyond what they already paid for. And Mr. Landers managed to scramble enough disposable income to have the whole package for himself that night, able to do whatever he wanted with me, plus a 10% discount for driving me to a secluded spot.

"Mmmm, of course you can." I giggled and purred at the same time. It drove men wild. "What're you waiting for, Mr. Landers? I'm all yours."

The older canine next to me gulped, then breathed heavily as his thumb unbuttoned my jeans' tail belt and all five fingers slithered underneath the denim. A squeak escaped my throat, followed by lecherous purrs. The paw marveled at the taboo territory, running through the fur and feeling as much as it could. Then, Mr. Landers started panting in heavy doses the more he continued playing with me. Clearly, the Labrador teacher had been thinking long and hard all day about groping certain areas beneath my belt. The thought alone got blood pumping straight down to my cock straining against the fabric.

"Your ass is something else," he whispered into my ear, nuzzling my cheek and even licking under my jaw to taste my feline scent. "Oh, fuck...fuck, you're such a beautiful fuckin' young man...Wish I were in my prime right now..."

I imitated a dog's whine as the Labrador's paw manhandled my backside to pull me closer to him. It felt awkward at first, given the space between our seats, but placing my left paw on the parking brake gave me some balance in the chaotic way he further explored.

It seemed we were done with the foreplay. Blindly, my right paw traced up his bulge until I reached to toy with his belt buckle. A low chuckle came from Mr. Landers as he got the hint. Pulling away to scoot the driver's seat back for some extra room, he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his brown trousers until the scent of male dog suddenly filled the car.

A lack of visible light in the dark sedan didn't matter. Not for me or Mr. Landers. I could practically smell his manhood and feel its erect heartbeat in my palm. I heard him groan and stifle pleased grunts each time I stroked, groping it up and down from the wet tip to its knot concealed in a layer of thick, musky fur. We finally positioned our seats for easier access to each other. The hot flesh stiffened when my lips teasingly brushed against the throbbing head. The taste nearly overwhelmed me.

I slowly suckled down on his cock, causing a chorus of moans to erupt from the pent-up Labrador teacher.

"Ohhh, f..." Mr. Landers bit his lower lip and hissed, "Ahhh, yeah, like that...like that, kid. Mmmfh, that tongue of yours is the fucking best...Oh, God!"

Part of me wanted to try and break my previous record (two minutes and fifty-six seconds!), but for Mr. Landers, I bided my time just for him. Especially on the underside of his hardening shaft. Canines like him apparently loved it when you teased underneath their cocks and brushed the tongue against the base of the knot.

Mr. Landers tapped my head at one point. "A...A little slower, please?" He asked, to which I complied by lessening my steady lips in order to savor the meat, "Oh, yeah...just like that, Charlie. Just like that..."

After using the sedan's joystick to support myself in the awkward position, but making the most of it, I swirled my tongue along his length and breathed against the head. Mr. Landers' breathing practically filled my ears alongside the howling winds outside the car before I finally started diving down on the tapered tip.

"Oh fuck!" He shuddered all over. "F-Fuck, that's good..."

Most of the mainstream johns I'd had the pleasure to repeatedly pleasure often complemented me on how I used my tongue and lips. Some furs--mainly canines--preferred felines to not lick along the length unless they were explicitly careful with the barbed tongues, while others got off on it (understandable thing to consider). Landers was of the latter variety. He panted like a dehydrated fur in the middle of the desert each time I licked up and down his erection.

My barbed tongue went back and forth across and around the sensitive head, tracing along the veins until Mr. Landers shuddered to climax. "Mmmfh, on my God...Charlie I--" He bucked up from his seat, gripping my hair, and guiding my head up and down. "Grrrr, I'm cumming. Ah, ah, ah...Oh, shit...Ohhhhhh fuck!"

Spurts of warm, salty cum trickled down the corner of my lip and the rest cascaded down my throat. I breathed in and out through my nostrils, making my whiskers twitch against his pubic fur. After a couple years of practice with closeted jocks and experimental classmates in need of release, you'd think I'd have the technique mastered by now. Then again, the older canine was meatier and thicker than the ones I usually worked on.

Meanwhile, Mr. Landers was taking deep breaths. A headlight from the road momentarily illuminated the cabin to reveal him laid back in the driver's seat, tongue lolled out while staring lovingly off into space. Panic swept over our expressions until the headlight's beam drifted away and returned us to the December night.

"Gah," I gasped away from the length, licking away the salty cream from my lips before snickering, "Awww, are ya tired already, Mr. Landers?"

The Labrador shortly laughed between gasps. It almost made it sound as if he'd almost finished a marathon. "I'm...I'm fine..." he reassured me. "Just...need a breather..."

"Mmm," I teasingly trailed my fingers up his round stomach and to his chest, still covered in a buttoned brown shirt and loosened tie. "Is there any way I can help you get some energy back, Daddy?"

I practically felt his deadpan stare pierce the darkness. "Please stop." He said.

Like that, some of the mood deteriorated, and I curled my tail. "Sorry, Mr. Landers."

"Charlie," he replied, "...I don't like being...reminded...how old I am."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry...I was just trying to get ya back into the mood again," I shrugged. "Do you need a minute? I can give a partial refund if you just wanna call--"

"Nah, nah, nah, I'm fine..." the burly Labrador laughed again, then sighed while stretching his neck. "Just gimme a moment...or two..."

"Okay," I sighed. "You're good."

Relaxing back into the passenger seat, just as I could feel my phone buzz in my back pocket, I checked to find a couple of robocall voicemails and three text messages from Alan.

Where r u Charlie?

It seemed like one of my older brothers sent it after finishing his shift at McLarnald's, only to discover I wasn't home yet. Almost opting to ignore it, I relented after a second text came. This time, from Dad.

You out somewhere? You're not home yet.

I couldn't resist rolling my eyes. Of course, Dad wouldn't be one to notice me gone, unless he was either pissed at me about something or Alan reminded him about it. Ever since our middle brother Dennis got sent to jail the previous year for attempted armed robbery, it seemed as if all the scrutiny and annoyances that went towards the disruptive middle cub was instantly turned in my direction.

Out with a friend, I texted them both._ Will be back soon._

I ignored the next text and distracted myself with a quick scroll through the newsfeeds on social media, blindly liking whatever post came my way. Especially the ones that were pornographic.

I hadn't noticed Mr. Landers calm down, but I did notice when his large, black-furred paw started caressing my back. A purr rose from the back of my throat, particularly when he scratched behind my neck.

"Mmmm," I licked my lips, seductively knowing he could see it despite the fading light and the soft glow of my cellphone. "You doing good now, Mr. Landers?"

He chuckled, "Sure am, kiddo...for the most part. That blowjob really took some energy outta me."

"Well then," my paw rubbed his knee closest to mine, "if it's all fine, then you wouldn't mind if I help take care of you for the next half hour, do you?"

The Labrador's answer didn't need any more explanation. He paid me, after all.

He focused more on inhaling my scent as he let me straddle him in the driver's seat, so I zoned out while also keeping an eye out for any stray lights coming from the nearby roads. During this, he unbuttoned his shirt and lowered his trousers a bit to free his equipment, now springing back to full strength.

"So beautiful..." he murmured into my ear, unbuttoning my jeans like an eager frat boy about to fuck the hottest sorority chick on campus. "So beautiful."

"My ass or me?" I quipped, then emitted a sudden gasp when Mr. Landers nibbled on my right nape, "Ah, ow! Easy with the teeth."

"Sorry," he replied with a kiss to the same spot. His cold nose sent another shiver right up from my swishing tail to the base of where my neckfur stood on end. "Mmm, your smell is so...intoxicating, Charlie."

In preparation for the night's activities, I had gone into the bathroom during my final class period and lubed myself up. That way, after I teased the old dog for several minutes to work him up to full erection once again, even with the XL-sized condom on, it effortlessly slid inside thanks to gravity.

"Ohhhhhhhhh..." he moaned, making my body shudder around his firm shaft.

The 'Daddy' types who usually shoved their hard cocks inside me never owned a touch of finesse. To them, my spotted feline body was just another fuck toy to use until they ejaculate into the condom. Which I always insisted they provide. Otherwise, they could fuck themselves.

(Hey, even I had some real standards.)

Mr. Landers certainly had the girth, but it was nothing. Wincing but refusing to go beyond anything louder than delightful whimpers--those certainly made his length twitch inside me--I slowly eased myself centimeter by centimeter until the canine's tapered cock found itself entirely inside of me.

"Ahhh..." He kissed my neck, then thrust his cock against my prostate. And again, and again. "Oh, Charlie...Shit...you're so perfect...Goddamn, that's t-tight...!"

His older paws roamed up my shirt, pulling it up until it left my nipples bare to the sheltered chill. The whole car felt like a tent in the middle of a wintry forest, barely able to keep the worst of the cold out. It got to the point I quivered enough to nearly put my shirt back down. Then, his warm thumb brushed up against one of them, sending jolts of pleasure down my spine. The purring in my throat became stronger, as did Mr. Landers' bucking motions.

"Ah, oh, sir..." I groaned. "God, yes. G-Grind it there!"

I hung my head back and felt sweat beginning to form on my forehead. Half the time, whenever I got fucked by somebody inside of their car, I tried my best to remain focused. If I got lost in the intensity of the job and didn't entirely keep an eye out for the cops, there was the chance I'd end up arrest and find myself in jail, just like Dennis did.

My forehead bumped into the ceiling, if only lightly. "Ow." I muttered.

Mr. Landers slowed his thrusts, "Oh my God, you okay--"

"I'm fine," I chastised him, my former teacher, "now shut up and keep fuckin' me!"

The best emphasis I could give for him to keep going was by bouncing again. It elicited another moan from the older dog, resuming our gyrations.

I got lost in the close, intense sensations. Flexing my rear and letting him lunge his cock in and out of my rear, while making sure to tickle his ankles with my tail, Mr. Landers really went to town on me. However, he was extremely careful not to knot me. The last time I accidentally allowed a canine of his size to fully mount me, we nearly got caught by his fucking parents (thank God, they were drunk and barely noticed me slipping out the door).

Still, Mr. Landers definitely proved how old dogs could entertain as a new trick. I felt his familiar huffs on my neck once he started filling up the condom, almost making made me ejaculate all over his chest with my spunk. I leaned forward and closely hugged his torso.

"Oh shit..." he gasped, "Oh God, that...t-that was..."

"Y-Yeah..." I exhaled, completely exhausted myself.

The aching emptiness that came from a john pulling out left me pondering about...well, things: school, life outside of classes, how I got there, how fulfilling the sexual act was. After quickly buttoning my jeans up before sitting back on the passenger seat, I focused on the world outside the sedan.

A few traffic lights were blinking between red, orange, and green, yet few cars could be seen on the icy road. The freezing, gloomy nightfall reminded me of the setting from an old movie I grew up watching. I couldn't recall the title lying in the back of my lustfully infested mind, but it was named after a town in North Dakota, had a pregnant cop as the main lead and ended with one of the bad guys getting shredded in a woodchipper. Much like the cinematography of that elusive film, the nighttime seemed so pitch black, it felt like an abyss.

Pity, because I wore my favorite clothes for Mr. Landers; a pair of skinny denim jeans, capped with tight black speedos for underwear and a form-fitting red t-shirt depicting the lead singer of Led Zeppelin, the only band me and the old dog loved. Seriously, no matter how much I tried to persuade him during our afterglows, Mr. Landers refused to give any other of my suggestions a try. Not even after I promised a discount or two.

"I'm still not going to listen to 'Billie English' or whatever she calls herself," he insisted, having buttoned up his pants and calmed down from his second ejaculation. Warming up the car again, Mr. Landers cheekily remarked, "It just isn't my thing. She looks like one of the goth students who insist they are tortured on the inside."

"That..." I giggled at the mental image alone, recalling a couple of classmates. "That I kinda have to agree with. Doesn't mean the music is bad though."

"Would you mind grabbing something in the glove compartment, by the way?" The Labrador changed the conversation, the interior lights illuminating the interior again. "It's the anti-scent spray. We'll need it..."

I gladly followed his instructions and got the can out, letting Mr. Landers spray us as well as the entire sedan's front portion. Both of us coughed a couple times at the overwhelming fumes, but we put up with it, lest his wife catch scent of her husband's unfaithfulness.

Sometimes, Mr. Landers liked mentioning his desire to come out. The first time he hired me after I turned eighteen, he'd been an emotional canine to me in private. He talked on and on about how his well-off parents played passive-aggressive matchmaker between him and their church friends' gorgeous daughter. It'd only been a marriage of convenience for the two of them. The option of infidelity didn't even become an option for either of them until Mr. Landers' parents eventually passed years later, and his wife's parents retired to North Carolina.

When I asked why he hired me and not another dude his age, he went silent. I suspected either he couldn't risk going on rendezvouses too far from the city limits, or maybe...he had a thing for me.

Of course, he knew the risks. Despite no longer being a teacher in one of my classes, the age difference and power imbalance between us still posed a problem. While Illinois banned our kind from being discriminated against in work and at school, also it didn't mean it couldn't happen anyway. He argued sometimes that, for all he knew, a parent or two could claim he was unfitted to teach and start trouble. Parents always liked to start trouble with teachers that happened to have different so-called lifestyles than them. The school board would have definitely fired him, for sure. Principal Walker too, even though the old bear fucked me the previous year before his retirement.

Twenty minutes later and Mr. Landers drove without much ceremony to stop a block away from my house. And as always, he looked nervously between me and the streets, expecting either a surveillance van or a familiar fur to immediately recognize him. Paranoid as ever.

"Hey uh...thanks again, Charlie," he cleared his throat, smiling earnestly at me. "I uh, had a wonderful time."

"Thanks for the ride, Mr. Landers," I winked at the Labrador as I started to get out, then leaned back into the door to whisper, "And call me 'Cherry'. All my clients do."

"Why's that?" he asked in the same whisper. "I've-I've heard some classmates call you that, but I've never heard the reason."

"Let's just say a drunk classmate tried impressing me with a stupid pun on my name, and it stuck." I immediately began to shiver when a gust of cold wind blew into the open door. "Anyway, I'd better get going. You have a Merry Christmas, Mr. Landers."

"Merry Christmas then, Cherry." He beamed. "And a Happy New Year too."

He didn't drag a conversation out. He didn't ask for a good-night kiss or ask me for another potential tryst between us soon. However, once he convinced himself the coast was clear, Mr. Landers did affectionately pat my ass as I exited the car, winked up at me, then drove off down the empty street. Just another satisfied customer to end the dreary night.

Luckily, the walk to my house wasn't far, and right when a light snowfall began drifting from the cloudy sky, I couldn't help but wonder if Mr. Landers and I could one day escape our lives. I imagined moving away from our suburban town. I imagined making it out on my own once I earned enough money, doing what I did best. As soon as I saved enough money from my services, putting the earned twenty-dollar bills into the bad I hid in my sock drawer, I imagined moving somewhere warmer like Cape Fiesta or Las Estrellas. Anywhere that made sense for an ocelot like me to live freely.

Another phone call. Pulling it from my pocket and tapping the screen as snowflakes danced around it, I reluctantly answered, "I'm almost home, Dad."

"Dad? Nah, this is Alan, Charlie," the older feline answered on the other end. "I just got off of work, and we're setting up dinner. You better get your tail home before he gets impatient waiting for you."

The gut feeling of interacting with Dad forced me to feebly ask, "Is he sober?"

My older brother muttered something to somebody else on the other end, and said, "...well, he's not drunk. How far are you anyway? Dad says you forgot your coat."

"Got up in a hurry so I wouldn't miss the bus," I lied through my chilly fangs. "I'm half a block out. Just...can you make sure he ain't gonna drink during dinner?"

"I can try," he confessed, "but all we got for tonight is tuna casserole again."

Ugh. That wasn't a good sign. I could always pull money from my secret stash to have us buy more than the bare minimum, but I knew my father. He was impulsive, possessive, hardworking when poor yet lazy once his paycheck came in. Forget the fact I was prostituting myself for cash. If he found out I made more money in a day than he did in a week, he'd demand I share the money with the rest of the family. Like Alan grudgingly did.

"Alright, thanks, Alan. See you soon..." I hung up and shivered once more, making quicker strides. "

The one-story home had little decorations set up, save for one haphazardly unraveled string of blue lights wrapped around the smaller tree sitting beside the driveway. Snow covered the uncut lawn in a thick blanket, giving it the appearance of abandonment if it weren't for the lone tire tracks leading from the street into the closed garage door. The windows looking into the kitchen were lit in a yellow glow, and movement could be seen beyond.

My tail curled and my muscles forced themselves to relax. Walking inside my family's home, I just hoped that Dad and Alan's next check would clear the following day, so we could have something good for Christmas dinner. And with any luck, Dad got me something for Christmas that didn't come with a discount at the gas station.