FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"You're cut off."

Darby's eyes glazed over the text message, just as they had the moment he received it a month ago. The bus's poor shock absorption made the snake's hand tremble, but the message stood clear as day. No more support, at least not outside of school.

As to why, Darby couldn't remember. He'd had enough arguments with his father that they all blurred. Maybe it was about how he wasn't taking his studies seriously, not that the snake had a choice in his studies. He didn't want to go to some ivy league campus. He'd have rather taken a leap year first. Better to decide what to do with his life. But dear old dad not only said no to that, he hissed as though the idea was a sheer insult to the family legacy.

So what was an annoyed college kid supposed to do? Follow his father's commands like a good son? He'd smile if anger didn't still seep from his lips, his face forced into a perpetual scowl over his financial situation. Darby was no good son. H skipped most of his classes to party and fuck.

Now, with his personal funds nearly dry, the snake had pushed himself to take a part-time job just to have his own money. He put his phone away and leaned back into the uncomfortable felt seating of the public bus. His backpack filled with work clothes sat next to him so as to not let anyone take his seat. Most employees wore their uniforms to work, but Darby didn't want anyone to know where he worked. Especially since this was his fifth job in the month.

The bus stopped. He pulled his hoodie over his head and hunched forward as he stepped off. Designer pants and yeezys trudged through cracked pavement. It rained that morning and the cloudy day kept the puddles there by nightfall, so he did his best to avoid them. His shoes couldn't be replaced, not the red and yellow 'Desert' line.

"You're late." The judgment on the capybara's tone scratched deeper than the childish jingle that played when Darby entered the restaurant. His manager's pen thwacked against his jeans with every twitch of his fingers as he stared the snake down. Darby pushed past him, preferring not to get into an argument.

"Hey, I said you're late." The capybara grabbed his shoulder.

Darby shrugged him off. "Blame the bus. Not me."

"For an hour? No." The pen clicked in his hand. The scratching of ink to paper echoed outside of Darby's gaze, "That's your second strike. One more and you're out of here. And show up in your uniform next time."

Rather than argue, Darby nodded and rolled his eyes when his boss wasn't looking. One quick trip to the bathroom and the snake returned decked in his gray and black uniform, with the signature logo cap and a matching apron sporting the smiling hotdog of the godforsaken franchise. Why anyone would want a hotdog after 10 PM was beyond him, as was why the small building with windowed walls was open twenty-four-seven.

But a job was a job, and Darby needed to keep this one. He sighed and, after putting his backpack in his locker, took his place behind the counter. No smile, they didn't pay him enough for that.

"Did you put a lock on your locker?" Darby didn't turn to face his coworker's question. The skunk decided not to take the hint and poked him. "Hey, Darcy. Did you get a lock for your locker?"

"Darby."

"What?"

He would have pointed to his nametag, but they hadn't given him one yet. "My name is Darby."

"Oh," The skunk blinked and sniffed back a loogie. Darby scooted a few feet away, not wanting to catch whatever the wide skunk was carrying. "Sorry, bro. Thought it was Darcy. Customers kept calling you a nice lady so-"

"I didn't get a lock." He'd rather deal with that topic than remember how people took him for a girl. "Why do I need a lock?"

"You don't know?"

Darby shot a glance at his coworker. Lance, if the nametag was accurate, stood a foot above the snake and at least three feet wider than him. His uniform didn't fit, and his cheap sneakers looked like they were on their last run. All of this Darby could ignore if it wasn't for the loud nasal breathing of the subtle deviated septum. That would grow to be worse than nails on a chalkboard by night's end. He smiled, exposing some adult braces. "There's a thief."

"What?" Darby heard what he said but didn't quite process it. "Who?"

The skunk shrugged, "If they knew, they wouldn't suggest we bring our own locks." Darby didn't disagree with that. His eyes scanned the kitchen. Including him and the skunk, they had eight people on staff, four of which were doing various duties in the kitchen. Tina had her face deep in the ice cream machine, Don was frying up wieners, Harold looked like he'd collapse against his mop, and Alfred took an entire hallway to practice his steps for some musical he was doing. Any one of them could be the thief.

Darby didn't believe any of these jokers had the balls to steal from him. No one knew he was cut off so he could just threaten a lawsuit if anything like that happened. He brushed the thought aside with a whip of his hair and turned back to the front, waiting for whatever customer would go and make his night worse.

Night shift at a hot dog restaurant was, unsurprisingly, boring. By the first hour on shift, only three customers came in. The most notable of which was a large bulky hyena woman in a leather jacket with chewed ears and a tongue stud. One she made clear as day with how often she licked her lips at the sight of him. "Thanks, miss." The honey scent on her breath drew his attention more than his urge to correct her.

By the next two, he was fuming. What was it about his look that made people guess he was a girl? "You're pretty thin, bro." Lance chuckled in his response to the question.

"Guys can be thin." Wasn't Darby's fault he didn't down three milkshakes a day.

"Yeah but you're like, girl thin." The skunk made a pear shape with his hands, "Most guys see ladies as like, the letter V or the pear fruit. But ladies can be string beans, and you are a stringbean. Plus the hair."

"What about my hair?" It was an expensive haircut.

"Guys don't put that much product in it unless they want to take it up the ass. Which is totally cool if you do, no judgment."

As much as Darby wanted to call out his coworker that proper hair care had nothing to do with one's preference in the ass, he stopped short at the next batch of customers. The first was a graying beaver in a tattered jacket and torn pants, someone he'd seen around town on street corners with a sign asking for money. He had a nauseating look to him that Darby imagined came from a lack of hygiene and heat.

The other, and more important customers, were frat boys from his campus. Alpha Sigma Psi, or as some would call them, the Sig Chuds. They laughed with each other as they bombastically stepped through the front door. Darby remembered his father telling him to join that fraternity, which had him coil his neck into his shoulders at the wolf approaching him. Decked in a loose basketball jersey, the black wolf smiled wide when he and his bros reached the counter. "Fingers, that you?"

"Darby..." He should have just said no, "What do you want?"

"Oh shit, guys it's Fingers!" He waved the rest of his crew over. Their wild eyes and wide smiles gathered round like an ocean wave crashing against the snake.

"Shit, bro, I heard he picked up a job."

"Thought he was selling yeezy's at the PawShack?"

"Nah, heard he got fired 'cause he told a customer to fuck off." That was partially true. The customer asked his opinion on shoes. He gave it. His manager did not appreciate how he gave it.

"Could have sworn he was delivering pizzas."

"Nah, the Alps house said he tossed their pies in the trash because of a bad tip."

As much as he loved to be reminded of his past jobs, the snake wanted to be rid of these mongoloids. "Can I help you?"

The wolf, Duke if Darby remembered right, smiled. "Maybe? You look like someone that loves handing out wieners. Can you give us the jingle?"

Darby looked the wolf dead in the eye for half a minute. No blinking, no straying, just steady eye contact powered by contempt. His fingers clenched. That stupid jingle was just at the edge of his lips.

Explosive retching sounded off from the bathroom. Everyone, save for Darby, turned their attention to the men's room door. The homeless beaver barreled out from it, hand brushing away at the leftover spew from his maw. Darby broke his gaze to watch the beaver leave. For just a moment, more of a blip, Darby wondered if the man was too sick to spend another night outside.

Then he remembered someone had to clean up his mess. He forgot whose cleaning shift it was.

"Darby." The manager tapped the mop against his shoulders, "You're up."

"What?" He whipped back around just to see the capybara's glum face. "I'm on cashier duty."

"And your cleaning duty starts in a minute."

"Yeah," Darby nodded, "A minute."

"Fifty seconds now." He tapped his watch. "You're also holding up the line."

"What line?" Darby pointed to the absent line of just five frat bros. All of which were going to order some large meal to share together like the brain scumming fucknuggets they were.

The rodent wasn't going to have any of it. "Now, Darby," He said, shoving the mop into the snake's hands. "And don't skimp out on the sawdust."

Darby grumbled to himself about the two impossible options as he slipped out from the counter, and grabbed a bag of sawdust. The loud snickers from the frat boys didn't do him any favors. The snake took a deep breath to block it out.

It just so happened he did this as he opened the bathroom door. Big mistake.

He reeled from the taste in the air. Covering his mouth, the snake swerved back facing the crew. A stern gaze from his manager overshadowed the hoots and hollers of the wolf and his bros. With another deep breath, he pushed himself back into the bathroom.

He wanted to vomit. Give him grease, salt, or the pungent smell of hotdogs, anything over whatever the beaver had for lunch. Struggling to breathe, he tossed the bag of sawdust against the mess he refused to witness. He heard a wet plop, then realized two seconds later that it shouldn't have made a plop sound.

"Fuck." He forgot to open the bag.

One look had him turn away his head again. He crouched low and had his hand aimlessly hover over the mess. Just out of his reach, the snake took a meager step forward. Then another, and another. The bag pushed away from the edge of his fingers. "Fuck, fuck." He stepped closer and heard a wet smoosh.

His heart froze. The snake looked down his uniform to find his yeezy's stepping over...over...Darby didn't dare describe it.

Disgust pooled in his stomach. Anger boiled it. Why the fuck did he have to do this?! Why the fuck did dad shut him out? He didn't even want to go to this school, let alone do the family business of whateverthefuck inc his father loved. Clearly more than his own son. "Fuck this." The words came flat, calm, as if he'd reached the eye of his own hurricane.

Every step he made carried the wet slap of vomit. The bathroom had a blowdryer, and to get the toilet paper he'd have to cross the puddle. The snake reached his boss and said, with more conviction than he'd felt in years, "I'm not cleaning it."

His manager just blinked. "What?"

"Get someone else." Darby pointed to the bathroom. "I'm not cleaning it."

"It's your job." The large rodent looked down at him. "It's what you're being paid for."

"Look at this." He pointed to his shoe, "Look at this. You know how expensive these are?"

"I don't honestly give a fuck." His manager pointed back to the bathroom, "Clean it or you're fired."

"Fine! Fire me." Darby held out his hand, "I want my pay."

"What?" His boss blinked, "Are you serious?" Darby nodded, his eyes never breaking contact. "Fuck no. I'm not paying you."

And just like that, Darby heard glass break in a restaurant with paper cups. "The fuck you mean?"

"I mean, 'fuck you, I'm not paying you'. You've been an asshat in the three days I've hired you. I'm not paying."

"That's illegal."

Now the bastard smiled, "So sue me. Except wait, you can't. You don't have any real support to do that, do you? You think I don't know about your spoiled richboy problems? 'Oh no, I gotta work a real job since daddy cut me off'. Pathetic."

"This ain't a real job." Darby hissed, "This is a fucking weiner hut. Give me my backpay or else."

With narrow eyes, the capybara fluffed his own collared shirt before resting his hands against his hips. "I'll take else."

Darby's internal clock couldn't tell him how long he stared at his manager. One minute? Thirty seconds? Whatever it was, the snake realized that he wouldn't get the bastard to budge. "Fuck you, I quit." He wiped the gunk off his shoes against the door frame before storming out. Too angry to change, he pulled his hoodie over his uniform to cover him from the cool night air.

In the back of his mind, Darby told himself it was just another shit job and that he could get another. But he knew his inner thoughts to be a liar. Some defense mechanism to justify all his dumb actions.

Plopping down against the cold metal bench underneath the bus stop's glass ceiling, the snake pulled his wallet out to count just how much spare cash he had left. All of his personal funds boiled down to a single dollar bill. Not even enough to get the bus. At least he had his...he blinked and thumbed through the leather wallet. It wasn't in the flaps. He checked again, and a third time, each attempt more rampant.

"Son of a bitch..." Someone stole his bus pass.

"Fuck!" Someone stole his bus pass. He was an hour's walk away from his dorm. An hour's walk in a dingy night with puddles as far as the eye could see. His yeezys already had vomit stains, soaking them wasn't an option.

He could go back. Darby looked at the restaurant and felt a sick urge to stay away. No one would believe him. The snake pulled his hoodie up and curled into a ball, frozen with what to do.

A hiccup caught his attention. "H-Hey, beu...beu...sexy..." He turned to see a squirrel, with a nose red from drinking, struggling to stand against the bus stop's frame. His pants were loose, red tie almost ready to fall down from his chest, and his collared shirt was untucked despite the constant effort to shove it underneath his belt. "You working?"

Darby blinked. Working? Sexy? It didn't take him long to realize that his hood, skinny frame, and squirrel's drunken gaze made him appear feminine. He shook his head. "Oh...that's a shame." The drunk caught himself at the bench and hunched over, "See, I could use some fun. Honey's kicked me out on account of me being too...too...fuck, intoxicated I think?" Darby tried to ignore him, only to watch the squirrel pull a wad of bills out of his pocket, "I even took out a lot for fun tonight. But now I...well I guess I can get some more booze."

Darby checked his phone. Fifteen minutes before the bus arrived. He shook his head. Sure he was desperate, but he couldn't be that desperate. "Honestly, I'd settle for some supple lips. Not that I'd," The squirrel hiccuped, "Feel much...I can barely see straight."

No one would know.

Darby looked at the buildings behind him and spotted a small alleyway. He grabbed the squirrel's hand. "Oh...I thought youse wasn't working?" The drunk slurred. He didn't answer back, fear of his own voice giving it away. Hidden from view behind the concrete walls, Darby shoved the squirrel against his back and crouched to his crotch level.

The outline etched across the squirrel's pants gave him second thoughts. His shivering hand undid the belt and let loose the zipper. The musk hit him first, like first contact in the gym locker rooms. Even as darkness hid the true size, Darby could tell the drunk was bigger than he was. He ignored that jealousy and poked it. It was hot, soft, with a wet tip.

"Kiss it..." The squirrel slurred out. "Come on...meet my rocket with a kiss."

Darby scowled, then closed his eyes and pressed his lips against the squirrel's junk. It took everything to ignore the salty taste of sweat and pre. His customer chuckled, "Yeah...just take it in your mouth. Come on. Little Bobby needs a nice warm home for the night."

Little Bobby could go sleep in a ditch as far as Darby was concerned. Not that it stopped the snake. He slipped the red tip past his lips, suckling at the stranger's cock with his saliva drenching it. Like the girls in porn he watched, he started to bop up and down the soft rod, licking and sucking as he did so.

From first hand experience, Darby knew how quickly an erection could form, but feeling it harden and expand in his mouth was different. It filled his maw so fast that the snake fell off with a gagged gasp. "Woah, what's wrong? You were doing good." The squirrel grabbed Darby by the back of his hood and pushed him against the drenched rod. "Don't quit now, I just got hard."

Every breath of air brought the squirrel's musk to the roof of his mouth. Darby shuddered as the saliva covered cock dragged against his face. It was too late to stop now, he needed that bus money.

The snake's lips suckled the tip before he slipped down the rod. His head bobbed slow, deep breaths through his nose to keep him from pulling off. The squirrel's moans were the only indicator that he was doing something right. A subtle lick there, a gumming here. He couldn't get further than halfway down the cock, not that the squirrel noticed.

"That's it..." The squirrel's nails dug into Darby's hood. "That's it...keep going." Spit mixed with pre and spilled from Darby's maw with each thrust against the rod, pooling into a puddle underneath him. How hard was it to get one drunkard to cum?

A suppressed cry escaped the squirrel as he shoved Darby down his full shaft. Darby gagged, his eyes wide in shock. The squirrel's meat spasmed in his maw. Strand after strand of hot sticky cum shot down his throat. The snake hacked a load of it when the drunk let go, adding a fresh white glop to the pool below him.

"Fuck...that was good. Did I s-snag a top bee?" He chuckled, then made buzzing noises while Darby gagged. As soon as he saw the rolled up bills, the snake snatched it and started walking. "Okays," The drunk slurred, "Sees you another time!"

Anger, shame, disgust, these were all feelings Darby should have felt in the time it took to wait for the bus, pay his bus fare, and ride home. The snake felt none of this. He looked at the wad of bills in his hand. An amount that was worth more than a full shift of work with only ten minutes of humiliation.

Wheels began to turn.