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~EPHEMERAL~

Written By: Phamyne Plaguox

(TEASER)

CHAPTER ONE: HEDONISM

An Act of ~PLEASURE~

DAY ONE: [Friday 4th March 2022]

"Darkness... Darkness becomes all that I am, all of who I used to be, and all of who I shall ever become. Because darkness is the sinew of despair, the core of failure, and the realism when all hope is lost. Only those who..."

Rusker: "No, no, no... That doesn't sound right. Too emo..." Furiously erasing the last sentence, I chew on the end of my pencil as I try to think of words that don't sound like they belong in the diary of a teary-eyed teenager who wears too much eyeliner.

Rusker: "The meat of death is akin to the flesh of..." Fuck... Why is this suddenly so difficult? Everything I write today just sounds stupid. Slumping into my seat, I sigh out in frustration while looking towards the entrance of the store with a weary gaze at the sunny outside world.

Still no customers... It's almost time for me to head home and less than ten beastpeople came in today. It might be Friday, but I can already tell this weekend is going to drag by. Worse yet, I have to come in for a half day's shift tomorrow!

Sighing out once more, I lean further back into the squeaky office chair and swirl side to side as I listlessly observe the cluttered shop. My gaze dances from the colourful painting supplies in one aisle, to the whittle knives on the other end of the store, and finally to the packs of clay neatly arranged on the adjoining shelves. Biting the inside of my lip, I briefly consider picking up a new hobby to keep myself occupied while I try to regurgitate the right kind of creative juices and so I can get back to writing properly.

Rusker: "Maybe Alicia was wrong. I don't think I'm cut out for the life of a writer..." As if my words were some type of invocation, my phone chimes in my pocket, and after pulling it out and unlocking the screen, lo and behold, it's none other than my favourite red panda.

Alicia: "Heyo Ruskie my darling woofie~! :p I never heard from you after last night! Are you coming out with us today or not >_<!?" Reading her text message, I feel my anxiety instantly spike, bile all but rising up my throat as I go over the message a second time. My fingers hover over the screen as I try to think out my reply, claws tracing over her words as I fail to come up with a response that won't make me seem like a jerk.

It's not that I don't want to go out with Alicia, and in all honestly, I've been trying to convince myself that nothing is going to get better so long as I keep repeating this same "Day-in day-out" routine. Nor am I trying to avoid Alicia because she keeps trying to push me to do things that make me uncomfortable, for as my best friend, she has been the only saving grace in my life since we first met in primary school. It's just... Is it the worry of interacting with her friends that has me feeling so panicked? The idea that going to a club with Alicia could draw unwanted attention and someone might try to gay bash me again? I'm not entirely sure _what_it is, but every time the red panda asks me to go out drinking, I just feel overwhelmed and nauseous...

Honestly? If she suggested sitting around her apartment, or maybe even going out to the cemetery to drink there like we did last Halloween, I really wouldn't mind that. In actual fact, a night smoking weed and talking shit with just the two of us would be really good right about now~ it's just...

Sighing out, I start typing my response, cringing at how rude my words look and quickly try rephrasing them another way and adding a few emoticons before hovering over the send button a second time, praying that the ailurid doesn't get on my case for rejecting yet another "Night out on the town". As soon as the message sends, her response is almost instant. Shit... She was probably watching me writing and rewriting that short message...

Alicia: "Ahw... Sorry Ruskie, I don't mean to pressure you, ya know Q-Q? I just thought it'd be good for you! And I miss you my friend!!! How about we hang out tomorrow :D?? I'll have Mike get us some weed and we can spend the whole night just talking shit!" I smile like an idiot as I read over her response, chuckling to myself as I type out a less stressed reply.

Alicia: "Heehee~! You bet your furry lil butt! ;P and I'll ask Mike if he can spend a night out with the guys so I don't have to worry about my best friend eying off my boo's crotch the whole time O.O!" I burst out laughing a little too loudly, quickly looking around the store to make sure that I'm still alone before responding.

Alicia: "Don't play coy with me woofie~ Even HE knows about your love for his bulge! Though... It might partially be my fault for explaining how big my boyfriend's cock is in so much detail to someone who has barely even come out the closet..." Despite the blush warming my snout, I roll my eyes, but before I'm able to correct her, Alicia sends another message.

Alicia: "Alright Ruskie, I'll stop. Don't start sending your profanity just yet! ;) But you BETTER not drop me tomorrow >o<! If you do, so help me God, I WILL come to your apartment on Sunday and drag you out by the tail! I need time with my best friend :'o" I start feeling guilty for how I've practically been ignoring her for two whole weeks as I've fallen into another of my slumps, but once more, Alicia floods our chat before I can consider apologising.

Alicia: "Alight sweety, I'll leave you to your doom and gloom :3 Just... Be safe, alright? I don't want to hear about you walking around in the dead of night again like you did last week D_D If you're bored, just message me and I'll have Mike pick you up! You know you're always welcome at our place! I'll even leave the party early if I must!" I quickly type out my response, profusely explaining how I learnt my lesson and that I'm not planning on wondering the streets alone.

While it was mildly terrifying being... Well, I wouldn't really call it "Attacked", but grabbed and beastmanhandled by a mangy raccoon tripping on meth while he tried to guide me back to his cardboard box home in the middle of the park so he could supposedly "Protect" me from whatever demons were chasing him, the experience was still scary all the same, and not something I want to relive.

Alicia: "Good! Coz you know I'll do it! Luckily it was just a coon that tried to put babies in your butt! :/ It only proves how dangerous the streets have gotten since that guy went missing four months back O.o" While Alicia is overexaggerating, yet again, as the streets of Thornwood aren't any more dangerous than they've been fore the last two years, I do understand where she's coming from.

Alicia: "Yeah, me too sweetie. Me too... Well, I'm sure the rangers will get to the bottom of it eventually, and if not, I'll finally make my debut into the detective scene! ;)" I chuckle, rolling my eyes as I continue to type with the silly red panda.

Alicia: "Anyway, I guess I'll leave you to write your sob stories about how sad you are and allow you some alone time to dream about my boo's enormous bulge~ :P So stay safe, don't get kidnapped, and please, PLEASE don't forget about tomorrow xO! I lovvvies you too much!!! :*" With a wry smile, I slide my phone back into my pocket with a chuckle.

Rusker: "Heh, she always knows how to cheer me up~" I honestly don't know what I'd do if I hadn't met Alicia...

My gaze falls to the notepad on the countertop and traces across the last horrible sentence I wrote. Urg... Maybe Alicia is right. I keep digging myself into this hole, turning away from any opportunity I have to make my life better because being sad is easier than getting out of my comfort zone. Closing the book and putting it back into my bag, I clasp my paws together and lean my elbows on the counter while looking around the store in contemplation.

Rusker: "Alright..." Starting Monday, I will try better! I'm going to speak to Alicia tomorrow about what I can do to stop sulking all the time, and after deferring her most outgoing solutions, ridiculous suggestions I don't think even she'd try, I'll decide upon the one that makes my tailhole clinch the least and go through with it no matter how uncomfortable it makes me. I just have to get through today, my shift tomorrow, and then we'll figure out the best way for me to break out of my shell...

I mean, not that I haven't already become more outgoing. In comparison to where I am today to how I used to be when I was a teenager, it's a scary difference. I bet twelve-year-old me would never have believed he'd have the guts to come out to his mother, let alone go with Alicia to his first pride at eighteen! But here I am, living on my own, halfway out that closet, and trying to make a living like everyone else in this crazy world. I might not be living my best life, not just yet, but five years ago, leaving home wasn't even something I imagined possible!

In all honesty, I can attribute most of my accomplishments to how much Alicia has pushed me over the years. She_convinced me that mom wouldn't hate me because I like guys. _She_persuaded me into applying here at Connie's Crafties. And it was **_her** that coerced me into trying my luck at writing my own book! And while my novel isn't really doing too great, as I keep having these off days where I find it difficult to write anything, just like with everything else she helped me accomplish, I have no doubt that Alicia's faith isn't misplaced! I just have to keep trying!

~???~

Climbing from the shower, I lazily dry my fur, feeling more than ready for bed as a yawn escapes my throat. Today was tough. And not for the reasons it should be. A customer came in earlier today who required a few supplies for a birthday party she is planning for her daughter and the doe solicited my help on how best to do the decorations herself. Luckily for her, I'm pretty well versed when it comes to DIY decorations for parties, so we spent half an hour gathering different items around the store. And while that should have been the most tiring part of my day, I honestly felt more drained once I had made the decision to be less of a shut in... Weird how different it is when you want something as opposed to actually committing yourself to it.

Looking in the mirror, I find myself blankly staring at my reflection as I dry my headfur. The disgruntled expression of the husky in the mirror listlessly returns my tired gaze, and while I usually like the way my eyes look, as the deep shade of sapphire-blue filling them is vivid and very clean, and because my irises are slightly bigger than the average canine's, it gives me a pretty cute appearance, today they just seem... Empty.

Despite my earlier decision on wanting to move forward and do better, coming home seems to be a trigger for my brain to fall back into old thought patterns. It's as if the gloom of my depression that has long since permeated these walls, soaked up all my tears, and absorbed every one of my sorrows, the culmination of it all now seek to ooze from my dwelling and return these dark energies back into me. It discourages my conviction and makes me question if trying is even something I should follow through with or not...

My half dry fur stands up on all ends, making me look like a black and white cotton ball that a feral cat chewed on. I wish my furdryer hadn't broken last month, because ever since it did, it's been hell trying to dry myself with a damn towel! Not only do I need two to do the job, but my fur just doesn't feel as nice as it does when dried with heat. Maybe I should set some money aside for one of those super absorbent microfibre towels?

While I silently curse my genetics for giving me such thick fur, I can't deny how my double coat has saved me from the cold winters of this region. I'm not sure I would have survived in this crappy apartment without it! And now that spring has arrived, I'm probably going to need to buy some drain cleaner as I can already see that I'm starting to shed my winter coat.

Running my paws through my neckfur, my eyes trail the white fur that runs from my forehead, across my cheeks, down my chest, over my stomach, between my legs, and all the way to the tip of my bushy tail. I've always liked the pattern of my coat, especially on my face. I have a little more white than black fur compared to most huskies, and the markings on my muzzle aren't harsh like my father's. I thankfully inherited my mom's features in that department, something I couldn't be more grateful for. If I had to look in the mirror and see that asshole every morning, I think I'd hate having to look at myself.

Sighing out for what I hope is the last time today, I slink from the bathroom and into my empty bedroom. My room is as sparse as sparse can be, even for a bachelor's pad. And that's not just because I stay in a single roomed apartment, but rather because there is just enough space for a single bed, a half-broken fridge, a tiny kitchen counter, a sink, and a small area that is more than likely meant for a TV or a dining table, but is instead a place I use to draw and write.

The once white walls are barren of any decoration, filled more with old stains and a fist sized hole from one of the previous tenants. And other than the remnants of violence and stains that make me think that someone pissed on the walls as if he were a sprinkler watering flowers, is a tiny mirror and a cracked window looking out onto the grungy street below.

I mean... It's not the nicest of places, by far, but it's mine. And yeah, there are hookers in the rooms downstairs, drug addicts across the hall from me, and the scummiest kind of beastpeople staying here in Pennilith Flats, but I got here on my own. No one helped me.

Mom moved to Andaloux two years ago when she got a good job opportunity in the capitol, and while she initially expected me to follow, I had already saved up enough cash to rent this place. And while Alicia had originally proposed that I move in with her and Mike, I needed to do this. Not because I enjoy living in a dirty place where I have to dodge abandoned heroin needles on the stairwell, cringe so hard that my tail spasms every time I see the discarded condoms leaking in the hallway, or endure the funky smell seeping through my front door when my neighbour boils chicken feet, but because I needed to prove to myself that I'm not a complete failure as an anthropomorph.

And while I have to sometimes bum meals from Alicia, or ask for an advance from my boss I've done it. I may sleep on a squeaky bed that has been used by far too many beastpeople than I'm comfortable thinking about, and I may hate that I haven't gotten any further with achieving anything beyond replacing my laptop since moving here, but I'm trying, and that's what really matters.

Flopping on my bed in nothing but my underwear, the mattress releases squeaky groans that practically screams of the rough sex the previous tenants had on it. I clench my jaw and try not to think about the horrible stains hidden beneath the two sheets I've tried to cover them up with, and instead stare up at the equally stained ceiling while mulling over my life. The most prominent of thoughts always seem to draw me back to my love life, or well, the lack there of.

I may have come out when I was fifteen, and not really hidden it since then, nor exactly flaunted it like the more flowery of boys do when they leave their closets covered in glitter, fake eyelashes, and feathered boas, but I've yet to actually be in any kind of relationship since exposing myself to the world.

Or well... I mean, I did date this one guy. Kinda... When I was seventeen, I met this rabbit. I had accidently bumped into him while passing through an alleyway I used as a shortcut to avoid the crowds on my way home from school. We kinda hit it off from the get-go. He was five years older than me and addicted to heroin. And despite all the horrible traits the drug brought out in him, I really did like the beastman that was hidden beneath it all.

His name was Trevor, and he was the first guy I ever held paws with, the first guy I ever kissed, and while I had once tried to initiate it, he would have been the first guy I ever had sex with. However, it would appear that heroin is very good at killing someone's sex drive. It was extremely hard for someone shy like me to even make the first move all those years back, so when Trevor couldn't get it up, my ego was kinda hit with a heavy blow and I never tried again...

But... Despite all this, I'm not even sure I can say we were in a real relationship. Half the time, I didn't know where he was. Trevor would disappear for a few weeks on end and then rock up out of nowhere, high as a freaking kite. I'd get these short-lived, half-present moments with him where I'd either give up my lunch money so he could buy his fix, or I'd end up stealing change from my mom's purse so that he didn't go through withdrawals. And just as spontaneous as his arrivals would come, Trevor would vanish without warning and I'd be left with the ghost of what I thought we were meant to be.

I guess I became tired of feeling like someone he could leave behind, or perhaps I was done feeling like some army wife waiting to see if her husband would come home or not. Or maybe I was just scared that I'd one day read about how he was found overdosed on the sidewalk... There were also times when I thought that I should just spike with Trevor so that we could become closer. That perhaps if I took drugs with him, he wouldn't leave me. But I just... I just couldn't. I saw what heroin did to him, how the remnants of the beastman I fell in love with slowly but surely started to disappear with each needle he stuck in his arm... Either way, the last time Trevor showed up at our home, I had to turn him away. I just couldn't handle it any more...

After I broke up with him, Trevor remained on our porch the entire afternoon, crying and begging for me to give him another chance, and after mom failed to convince him to leave, she had no choice but to call the authorities. The second hardest part of that day was watching from my window as one of the rangers escorted him off the property and stuck him in the back of their vehicle...

If all of this wasn't already enough to break my heart, then finding out two months later that Trevor had overdosed on heroin in an abandoned building was enough to tear me apart. He was found all alone, dressed in clothes that barely hung from his corpse... And I mean... I blamed myself. Of course I did. I kept thinking that if I didn't turn him away that day, he'd still be alive... That perhaps Trevor was serious about getting help, and that maybe he'd even be living with me in a slightly less grungy apartment if I gave him that chance...

Honestly, I still hold that hurt within me. No matter how many times someone tells me that it wasn't my fault, I can't make or prevent someone from using drugs, words don't help with easing that guilt, because I truly did love him... And in my heart of hearts, no matter how many types of scummy things he did or how the townsfolk spoke ill of him, I knew he was a good guy. I just knew that Trevor could have been so much more than he turned out to be...

It's been six years since that day, and I've yet to meet anyone else. I once tried that stupid hook-up app Alicia suggested to me, and while I did find quite a few hot guys that were surprisingly interested in meeting up with me, I just couldn't go through with it... As much as I still desperately want to feel the embrace of someone in what is possibly the most magical way of expressing your feelings for another beastperson, I'm just unable to force myself to have sex with some random guy. As much as I want to rid myself of this loneliness, I also want to connect with them on a personal level before becoming so intimate. And as a result, my values have kinda left me in the lurch of virginity...

Sighing and rolling over in bed, I look out the window at the starlit sky while recalling how handsome Trevor used to be. By the end of it all, he didn't even look like the beastman I had first bumped into, and he already looked pretty bad at the time. I tried so hard to be there for him, to help him however I could, but I only wound up hurting myself... It turns out that no matter how much you try to help someone, it doesn't work unless they want it for themselves...

Rusker: "I'm sorry, Trevor..." I close my eyes and try to release the ache clenching the inside of my chest and weighing down my heart, and when I finally do exhale the rattled breath burning my lungs, I feel the tension fall from me in wisps of sorrow. And as I open my eyes, the last beastman I expected to envision after having thought about my ex greets me. The image of Dustin...

Dustin is... Well, a guy that I've had a heavy crush on ever since the moment I first saw him in town. The black furred bull in question moved to Thornwood last year and works as a lumberjack. He's something like, seven-foot-tall and built like a shit-brickhouse. And while I _know_it's probably nothing more than a sexual attraction to a himbo I've never even spoken to, and that I'm simping over a guy that's by all likelihood straight, I can't help but drool whenever the amber eyed bovine visits the coffee shop across from Connie's Crafties.

I'm drawn from my thoughts by my phone alerting me to a new message, and while wiping the drool from my lips, I find myself smiling when I see that it's Alicia messaging me.

Alicia: "Don't forget tomorrow! >.</ You bring the wine, I'll get the weed! And as a bonus, I'll make sure my boo stays half naked till you get here so that you can get some eye candy~ :P" God... Really_Alicia? She's been teasing me ever since she first caught me staring at Mike's crotch on that ill-fated day he decided to go commando. At this rate, I'm _actually a little worried she's going to ask me if I'm interested in a threesome with them. As much as I love Alicia, and find Mike insanely attractive, I could never do that. Not just because seeing my best friend naked would kill any boner, but because it would just be too weird for me, especially for my first time.

Huffing an indignant breath, I type a snappy response and frown up at the ceiling when she responds with yet another cheeky reply about how quickly tomorrows "Spicey sausage" has an expiry date and that I better not be late or all that will be left is the wrapper it came in.

Despite how perverted Alicia is, I can't say she doesn't make me smile. Rolling my eyes and then myself into the blankets, I drift off on the thought that tomorrow is going to be a good day, and that no matter what, I won't allow anything to get me down.

DAY TWO: [Saturday 5th March 2022]

Leaving the store, I grip the strap of my messenger bag and make sure the zipper is closed properly so that no roaming hobo can rob me, but find myself frowning when I notice how translucent the blue packet containing my box of wine is, and how it almost feels like a lure for drawing thirsty vagabonds.

Looking around, I bite the inside of my lip while gauging how best to use the box of wine as a weapon while I make my way down the street. I'm glad I only had to work a half shift today as town is a little busy. I just need to make it home, quickly eat something, take a shower, get ready, and hope that I can make it to Alicia's place before she phones me and says that she's not risking me ditching and is sending Mike to fetch me in his pick-up truck.

Walking down the bustling sidewalk of Krunster street, it doesn't take me long to get off the main road and turn into Valistim avenue. This road isn't quite as busy, and while it's not the shortest of routes home, it does give me a moment where I can try get my intentions in order and figure out how I'm going to go about asking Alicia for her help tonight.

I know she's going to have a list of crazy ideas, most of which I could never agree to no matter how much she promises they'll give the best results, but at the end of the day, as long as I explain myself properly, Alicia will calm down enough for me to emphasis with how hard it is for me to do the all things that come naturally to her.

Smiling, I look over the buildings on the other side of the street and towards the mountains in the far distance. Thornwood is not just known for the strong wood we export, as we are the biggest supplier of lumber in the Lascyrne region, but Thornwood actually started out as a mining colony back in its hey-day. To the north and west of us, we are surrounded by high rising, snow-capped mountains that were once filled with gold, while to the south and east, the forested valley of Thornwood is filled with towering black pine trees, crystal clear rivers, and some of the most beautiful sceneries imaginable.

Scathwood forest spans for acres between us and the nearest cities, and it is as lush as the mountain views are breath taking. I know I complain about how crappy my life is, and how much I wish I didn't feel like such an emo half the time, but Thornwood is truly a beautiful place to live. With snowy blue peaks, verdant green forests, and soil so dark it's almost black, it feels like life was always meant to flourish here. Being gifted with the view of the endless valley every morning is probably the only thing keeping me from tipping over that proverbial edge and doing something that would hurt everyone I know.

Not only is Alicia one of the main reasons I don't want to leave Thornwood, but I honestly do love the town, or at least, the land itself. This is my home, and as much as I wish things could be different, I don't think I could ev-!

Rusker: " Oof!" As I'm rounding the corner, I smack snout first into what feels like a solid wall! I am sent flying from the brutal impact, but before I can hit the pavement, I'm caught midfall by quick movements, and when I next open my eyes, my face lights up with not just recognition, but with a hot blush as I quickly realise whose arms are currently wrapped around me.

Dustin: "Woah there, little guy! Are you okay?" The bulky male chuckles with a deep voice as he helps me to my feet before brushing imaginary dirt from my shoulders. The bull looks me over as if to ascertain that I'm still in one piece.

Dustin: "Shit, sorry 'bout that, I didn't see you there." He laughs a little more sheepishly this time while patting both my shoulders so hard that it feels as if my knees are about to buckle from the force, never mind how weak in the knees being around the black furred bovine already makes me.

Rusker: "N-no! I-it's alright! I, uh... I wasn't r-really looking where I was going..." My response comes out far shakier than I mean for it to, but the bull doesn't seem to mind as the smile has yet to part from his lips.

Dustin: "Bah! Don't be ridiculous! This was my fault entirely. I've gotta be more careful or one of these days I'm going to steamroll over someone like you and all that'll be left is a cute little smudge on the sidewalk!" Did he just inadvertently call me cute...? Or am I reading too much into his words...?

Dustin: "You sure you're fine? You seem a bit dazed..." Once more, Dustin's large hands find my shoulders and starts squeezing them. The bull's more than likely trying to apologise with the friendly gesture, but the act has an uncontrollable whimper leave my lips, for not only am I being kneaded like a tough piece of dough by such a muscled male, but by one who could veritably eat me up as if I were a toasted bun and still have room for dessert.

Rusker: "I-I-I'm alright!" My voice comes out in a high pitch, more akin to a whine than comprehendible words, and if my snout wasn't already red from being touched so familiarly, then the confused look dawning in Dustin's amber eyes reddens not just my snout, but the insides of my ears completely.

The bovine smiles, in what I hope is understanding, and while he is more than likely only trying to ascertain that he hasn't broken anything by tackling me, I find myself forced to use all the focus I have in order to stop my sheath from plumping at the sensation of his continued rubbing. The feeling of Dustin's rough fingers tracing over my flesh and their warmth sinking into me is sending all the right signals to my brain, and if he doesn't stop soon...

Dustin: "Hmm... Well, if you're sure." To my relief, and simultaneously my despair, Dustin removes his warm hands from my shoulders and takes a step back before looking at me from ears to tail tuft.

Dustin: "You don't seem too banged up, which is good, because if you wanted to exchange insurance information, I'd be in big trouble!" I laugh awkwardly at the dad joke, but thankfully my voice is drowned out by his bombastic laughter.

Dustin: "I'm Dustin, by the way, it's nice to bump into you." He says with a smile while offering a handshake, an act that finally snaps me back to reality.

Rusker: "R-Rusker..." I respond while taking his hand, watching as my paw is eclipsed by the enormity and warmth of his mitt. I've always found the difference between hands and paws interesting. While paws are usually defined by having slightly shorter fingers and always containing pads, there are those with hands that also have pads. Komodo are among some of the first that come to mind. I'm snapped back to reality once more as Dustin pulls his hand back.

Dustin: "Say... Haven't I seen you 'round here somewhere? You kinda look familiar..." Rubbing his chin, Dustin's eyes narrow.

Rusker: "I, uhm... I-I work at Connie's Crafties. You've probably seen me there...?" And hopefully not while I was spying on you from the store windows... And seeing as Mike works at the same logging company, I certainly hope he hasn't heard about how I asked the horse for his name...

Dustin: "Is that so? Heh, I guess I'll just have to pop by sometime so I can make up for nearly flattening you, huh~?"

Rusker: "..." My brain literally short circuits when Dustin offers a charming smile. Combining this expression with how the bovine phrases his sentence, I can only take it as flirtatious. I try to say something, anything, but all I can muster is staring wide eyed as the bull's features slowly shift to something a little more nervous.

Dustin: "If... That's something you'd like...?" The charismatic smile on his face starts to waver in what appears to be dejection, but before it can fade completely, my voice finally returns to me. However, as it does, I kinda wish I'd have remained a cute mute...

Rusker: "Y-YES!" Dustin literally jolts, his eyes widening as if I were a feral dog lunging for his neck! But as my paws fly up to wrap around my snout in shame for such an embarrassing outburst, the large bull explodes into boisterous laughter as he slams his heavy hands on either of my shoulders and pats them enthusiastically.

Dustin: "Bwaha! You're an energetic one, huh~?" He winks in-between his laughter, and while it's probably meant to ease my nerves, my face only flushes deeper.

Dustin: "Well, it's settled then. How 'bout I swing 'round for lunch on Monday? We can get coffee at Galooga. It's just 'cross the road from your job, so we won't have to walk too far." I find myself mindlessly nodding along as I watch the bovine pull his hands away while he briefs a look over my shoulder for a moment before his honey-coloured gaze returns to me.

Dustin: "Awesome. I look forward to it, Rusker." My heart melts into his amber eyes and my snout feels permanently stained with blush as I hear him say my name for the first time.

Dustin: "But I really do have to go. I'm late as it is." Dustin says while looking over my head once again, a concerned expression spreading across his face.

Rusker: "Sh-sure, uhm... It was really nice to m-meet you, and, uuh... I-I'll see you Monday...?" Dustin's gaze softens as it falls upon me and a gentle smile dons his lips when he nods in agreeance.

Dustin: "It was really nice bumping into you, Rusker." His hand raises again for what I expect to be another shoulder pat, but the bull instead ruffles my headfur before he dashes off down the street at a pace I'm surprised didn't leave me as a "Cute little stain on the pavement". My eyes follow Dustin until his thrashing tail disappears around the corner. My blush only deepening as the residual heat of where he once stood, and the faint scent of his musky self, lingers.

Rusker: "D-did that really just... Happen...?" Looking around, I pinch my arm as if trying to reassure myself that this isn't all just a dream. And as I blink, the smile on my lips only grows wider as the understanding that this is real, and that while I often misread situations, there is no doubt that Dustin was hitting on me!

Or wait... He was flirting with me... Right?? The things he said, the way he said them... That was him making a move, wasn't it? Damnit! Now I'm doubting myself... I don't have much experience with flirting, but I'm almost one-hundred percent certain that's what he was doing...

Chewing the inside of my lip, I slowly start walking home as I mull over our encounter. I'm going to have to bring this up with Alicia. While she might initially squeal like a teenager receiving tickets to see her favourite boy band, and start planning our marriage before Dustin and I can even go on our first date, but once I lay out the details for her, Alicia can confirm or deny if the bovine was hitting on me or not. The red panda may be excitable, but she's very good at reading situations for what they are.

Despite my uncertainty, I can't control the grin from spreading across my face, nor the pep in my step as I continue down the road and make my way to the bad part of town. All the while, wondering to myself how it might feel to go on a date with someone as handsome as Dustin.

~???~

As I approach Pennilith flats, I see the one hooker who is almost constantly standing outside the entrance. Her name is "Lola", or well, that's the alias she goes by. She is a tall, five-and-a-half foot gila lizard, and honestly, a pretty intimidating prostitute. Her scales are dark grey and she has dangerous looking orange patterns running along her frame. The intensity of her gaze is only matched by the orange of her eyes. She's often dressed in a sleek, body fitting snakeskin dress, has her claws painted a similar shade of forest green, and dons matching eyeshadow. Honestly, I don't know how she gets customers, as she mildly terrifies me. Maybe that's what some guys like? I can definitely picture her with a whip while beastmen beg her to be allowed to cum.

Passing her by as she leans against the side of the raw brick wall and smokes a cheap smelling cigarette, I keep my snout down while I slip through the broken doorframe and into the building properly, feeling her intense gaze upon me the entire time, but once I'm inside, I release a sigh of relief as my tail falls limp and paws unclench with the residual anxiety leaving my body in a shudder.

Fuck... Why does she always look at me like that? Lola's asked me a few times if I was looking for a "Quick fuck" and that she'd be able to "Take care of me in a way that only a beastwoman like her could", but with my continued refusal, and probably an uncontrollable expression of disgust at the prospect, this is the look I've been getting from her ever since. It almost feels like Lola's insulted that I would have the audacity to turn her down.

Shaking my head, I start my trek up the stairs while making sure to avoid the broken tiles, the joint buds lining almost every dirty step, and a bent metal spoon some poor addict lost. The railing at my side is made from what used to be rubber, it's peeling in various places and rotten to the point that just looking at it makes my paws feel tacky. The walls are lined with various tags from different artists and a collage of colourful graffiti that somehow brings a small amount of life to this otherwise horrendous building.

I crinkle my nose as I continue up the flight of stairs, the smell of piss has permanently permeated the second floor, and even though I hold my breath as I hurry past it, the odour follows me all the way up to the next story. There's this old saint bernard dog that lives on the second floor, and more than once, I've found him openly marking the walls with urine. The worst part is that he doesn't care who sees his junk, as I normally find him wearing nothing more than a pair of yellow stained, what was probably once white, pair of cream briefs.

I shudder at the memory of this one time that I rounded the corner at the exact moment he was shaking his sheath clean. He was facing the stairwell, so I caught everything, including his fat stomach jiggling around. A mental image that I have since been unable to erase from my mind...

As I reach my door on the residual disgust of the old dog's jibbly bits jiggling, I pull the keys from my bag and move to unlock it, but before I can slide the key into the handle, I jolt in surprise as my actions instead push the already unlocked door open.

Rusker: "..." Shit... Did I forget to lock it? Seeing as I slept in this morning, I was kinda in a rush. ... Tentatively stepping inside, my claws scrape along the door as I open it fully and cautiously peek around the corner towards my bed.

My room is empty... Nothing seems to be out of order from my initial observation, but my neckfur is still standing on end as I linger in the doorway. However, before my heart can settle completely, my gaze quickly shoots to the desk and I find my laptop missing! Before I realise what I'm doing, I rush into the room, throw my bags to the side, and leap upon to the table!

Rusker: "Fuck!" My paws frantically rake across the wooden surface as if my laptop has simply turned invisible, and just as I'm about to scream out another cuss, my eyes catch the glint of a black object laid upon the top of my dresser.

Rusker: "...What?" Walking over to the shoddily constructed dresser, my paws find the smooth surface of my laptop and trace over it in confusion. What's it doing here of all places? Did I perhaps move it yesterday before I showered? I've never left it on my dresser before, not even when I watch movies...

However, before I'm able to delve deeper into my memories, I jolt at the sound of a door closing, and as I spin around while clutching my laptop to my chest, my eyes widen, for standing in the short hallway leading to my front door is a dark and foreboding figure.

Rusker: "Wh-who are you!?" My hackles fluff up as I take an instinctual step back, bumping into the dresser as I watch the large figure casually walk in and flick lights on. I'm temporary blinded by the brightness, but as my eyes squint open, the stranger's fearful image becomes clear.

Towering in my doorway is a muddy-green scaled crocodile with a bulky frame who is at least two-hundred-centimetres tall. He's dressed in a three-pieced black suit with the first three buttons of his white dress shirt undone, exposing the eggshell yellow scales that run from under his chin and along his chest. And while I should be drawn to the frighteningly yellow eyes that practically burn in his skull, or even the white teeth glinting from the florescent light, it's the gun revealed in a holster at his hip that truly catches my attention.

He takes a step forward and my body reacts out of instinct. I press myself further into the wall in a vain attempt to create distance between us, all but climbing up the dresser as I yell upon his approach.

Rusker: "G-GET AWAY FROM ME! HELP! SOMEBODY HEL-!" My cries for help are cut short faster than they can leave my throat as the bulky saurian moves quicker than I imagined a male his size capable of! He deftly silences my barking by wrapping a wet cloth around the entirety of my muzzle!

I scream out into the material, inhaling a strong chemical smell between each short-lived breath as I try to push him off, but in one fluid motion, the hefty crocodile spins me around and slams my back into his expansive chest before wrapping a meaty arm around my body and pins my arms to my sides!

As I squirm, scream, and thrash against an assailant I have absolutely no chance of escaping, a thousand thoughts run through my head as to why he is doing this to me. Amidst my panic, I watch in surprise as another male enters the room and deftly closes the door behind himself before nonchalantly watching us. Through my fright I'm able to discern he is a black panther with a muscular build, perhaps six-point-two feet tall, and dressed much like the reptile holding me. He just stands there, watching us with untelling chestnut-brown eyes and folded arms, seemingly bored with the scene unfolding.

My body starts becoming limp as I'm forced to inhale the chemical odour staining the white cloth, one I quickly surmise to be chloroform, but it's too late to stop hyperventilating as I can already feel myself losing grip on reality. However, right before my consciousness can completely leave me, I watch the panther speaking to the crocodile while making paw gestures, but before I can try to understand what they are saying, darkness takes me and the last thing I discern is the feline walking towards the door...