FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Well it’s been a while since I updated this story, I hope everyone enjoys it. Keeping with Greentext for the time being. Not entirely happy with the ending of this chapter. Hopefully the next one will be more fun.

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>Be you.

>Be Dwayne Cooper.

>You’re Five-foot-ten-and-a-bit-inches tall.

>You’re dressed in a dumb fuck “American Killer” costume.

>You’re running to the back of your old school’s assembly hall, dodging other costumed acquaintances and former classmates.

>Trying to reach the back of the hall to get to the back doors to save your bunny.

>Bunny named Allison Cranny.

>A bunny who has feelings for you.

>Feelings you desperately want to return.

>You make your way to the back doors and run out.

>It’s dark.

>You see others gathered in small groups.

>You see Allison.

>She’s not far.

>Adam Davis and Rebecca Fisher along with their friends have Allison and her friends cornered.

>You rush towards the group.

>You hear their voices.

> “Just take the drink, we’re all adults here right?.” You can almost hear the grin in Becca’s.

> “Aye, we’re not kids anymore lass, lighten up a little.” Adam adds, confidant and suave.

>He adjusts his Viking gear and puts a fake hair behind his ear and mane.

> “You don’t need ya mum’s permission Cranny, let yourself go, stay and chat with some old friends.” Becca adds leaning closer to her.

> “It’ll be good for you.” Adam adds, charming smile still in place.

>Allison has the cup in her hands.

>She looks unsure. Untrusting.

>Her friends aren’t helping.

>Before you reach them someone else does.

>A literal knight in plastic armour.

> “How’s about you both fuckin’ leave her be?”

>A hare!

>Holy shit, you know this hare.

>Timothy Granger!

>Tim was always a little taller than you and he still is.

>Tim forces himself between Adam and Becca.

>They tower over him in height and muscle.

>And gut size.

> “Well, look whose here! Timmy boy!” Adam exclaims excitedly.

> “Piss off with your “Timmy boy” Adam, we’re not friends, and neither are either of you Allison’s friend.” The hare spat.

>Rebecca steps forward.

> “I’d be careful who you’re raising your voice to mate. You’re bein’ awfully rude.” She snarls, her words slurring.

>Whatever alcohol she’s been having is starting to hold its sway on her.

>She’s not a very good pirate if she’s already drunk.

>Or maybe that does make her a good pirate.

>Allison cowers behind Tim.

>Tim, for what it was worth, didn’t back down, glaring at the large pirate dressed hyena.

>Then you step in.

>You take Allison’s cup from her, making the poor girl yelp in surprise.

> “If you didn’t want to be rude Rebecca.” You bring the cup to your lips and down the drink. “You’d have stayed at home.” You toss the plastic cup at her face. “Or whatever you call the shit tip you crawled out from.”

>The drink definitely wasn’t just fruit punch, you could taste alcohol in it. Brandy maybe? Vodka?

>Likely the latter because if makes you want to gip.

>You hate vodka.

>The hyena glares at you, standing to her full height of 6-foot-5 to try some sort of intimidation thing.

>Perfect height to kick her in the stomach.

>But you don’t, as that would be rude.

> “You’ve always been an arsehole Dwayne!” she snarls, her words slurring once more.

> You shrug. You know you have; you tell her as such.

>Tim snorts and tries to keep from laughing.

> “Dwayne mate, all we wanted was for poor little Ally here to lighten up, she’s way too tense.” Adam steps in, grinning at you.

>You ignore the mate and push down the urge to punch his teeth down his throat.

> “Well Adam mate,” you spat, “surely someone even as bright as you should figure out, you and all your bum-chums here, aren’t making her and her friends comfortable.”

>Scoffs and multiple insulted “fuck you”s come from behind them.

>You don’t care.

>Becca steps closer to you.

>Tim continues to stand his ground, though seems thankful her ire is directed at you.

>Becca stands to her full height, shoulders back.

>She starts snarling like an animal.

>You’re so very scared …

>Not really.

>You stare her right in the eye.

> “Go on Becca, try it. I fuckin’ dare you.”

>You really want her to try and hit you.

>You give her a biggest shit-eating grin you can muster.

>She’s mad, really mad.

>About to pop a blood vessel levels of mad.

>Adam reached forward and put his hand on Rebecca’s shoulder.

>She spins around and snarls loudly.

> “Oi! Forget ‘em let’s go.” Adam snaps at her.

>It takes a second before Rebecca calms down.

> “Right, fuck ‘em.” She huffs, before spinning around and spits on you.

>Her saliva glob lands right on your cheek.

>You’re absolutely furious.

>You need to calm down quickly.

>Your muscles tense up.

>Your fists clench tightly.

>You’re going to tear this bitch apart!

> “Dwayne don’t!”

>Allison’s voice calls out to you pulling you back from descending into rage.

>You feel her hands on your chest pushing against you.

>Your eyes focus on her and all you see is fear.

>You come back to your senses instantly, as if a cold bucket of water was poured on you.

>You looked from Allison to Rebecca, giving the Hyena a small glare as she’s pulled away by Adam.

>You look back to Allison.

> “Lets head back inside.” Tim says as he finally turns his back to the two departing bullies.

>Allison clings to you as the three of you head back inside, followed by Allison’s friends.

>The occupants unaware of the altercation that almost took place.

>The three of you silently agree to stick together for the remainder of the night.

>You and Tim decide to catch up, seeing what the pair of you had been up to in 10 years.

>He’s impressed and not at all shocked to hear you’re a sergeant in the army.

>That isn’t sarcasm.

>He doesn’t delve too deep into what you do, what you’ve done.

>He’s being respectful. You can appreciate that.

> “And what about you Tim, what’s 10 years done for you?” you ask.

> “I work in IT,” he smiles with a simple shrug.

>Sounds good so far.

> “I sort out information for the company, I fix computers when they break or buy replacement parts when needed, I’m technically a senior member of that group but I still do the grunt work.” He explains.

>Okay, okay! Managerial position, that’s good, big money maybe.

>Allison seems impressed as well.

> “I work finances for Kalen Distributors.” Allison announces.

>Tim looks at her with a big grin.

> “No way? We did commissioned work for K-D a few years back, needed an update with their systems!” He says smiling.

>The pair then begin to talk about computer related things that go over your head.

>Which honestly is perfect.

>They’re bonding just like you wanted.

>But it still doesn’t stop the ache in your heart.

>But you know this is for the best.

>Within the next hour a DJ announces there will be dancing for anyone interested.

>Most were tipsy enough to be interested.

>The typical 90s music gets played, that was played at every disco in the UK ever.

>But everyone is into it.

>The guys show off their “pure skill” and flail around like lunatics.

>Or break dance like an old man in his 80s who still thinks he’s “hip”.

>The girls show off their stuff.

>Butts and chests swinging.

>You can tell just by looking though whose a mother and who isn’t.

>You remember your mother telling you; “You can tell from a lady’s moves if she’s got kids or not.” Then after a pause adds. “And how much she moves depending on how many kids.” She’d then laugh.

>Come to think of it. You’ve not seen your sister.

>Probably couldn’t get the time off and get on the plane from America.

>Ah well. Maybe you should go visit some time.

>Eventually you, Tim and Allison get on the dance floor.

>You’d like to say you showed up all these losers with your expert skills.

>Showed them how to really rock the dance floor.

>But you’d be a big fat (but still incredibly handsome) liar!

>You and Tim show you both have the dancing coordination of a dying fish!

>Allison is a little bit better, but that’s just because she’s cute.

>After making near 30-year-old fools of yourselves you skip the next song and move away from the dance floor.

>You’re all puffing and panting from exhaustion.

>Tim speaks up first.

> “We used to rock the dance floor all night when we were kids, the hell’s wrong with us?”

>He gasps between breaths.

>Allison replies quickly. “We’re nearly 30 Tim, and other than Dwayne how active are we really?”

> “You go t’gym.” You add.

> “Aye, at me own pace.” She replies then grins.

> “I have my bicycle.” Tim admits bashfully.

>The night progresses nicely.

>You don’t see anymore of Adam, Rebecca or their friends.

>Except for Sofia who hangs around Matt Knob, glory unto his name.

>You all have more drinks, chat amongst one another, chat amongst friends.

>You hit the dance floor once more.

>Okay truthfully, Allison drags you to the dance floor.

>Her favourite song is on.

>”Spice up your life” by the Spice Girls.

>The DJ puts on the typical disco lights as many girls get up with their friends and boyfriends to dance with them.

>The girls are shaking their hips, wiggling their chests.

>At one point during the song Allison turns and grinds her perky rear against our crotch.

>The urge to breed her rises dramatically.

>She looks at you from over her shoulder.

>She’s giving you a serious case of bedroom eyes.

>She licks her lips and winks at you.

>You feel yourself strain in your trousers.

>This damn bunny.

>She’s not even being subtle anymore.

>You try and fight the urge but she keeps pushing her rear against you and grinding.

>Maybe there was something in the punch after all.

>Mercifully the song ends and you pull away.

>Allison turns and puts her arms around your neck.

>She gives you a luscious smile.

>You’re not a mind reader but you know exactly what’s going on in her head.

> “I think I love you Dwayne.” She mutters softly then leans her head on your chest.

> “I noticed.” You reply quietly.

>You wanted to reply with the same.

>Desperately.

>You look towards Tim.

>You see his dejected look.

>He loves her too.

>He’s doing his best to hide it.

>You motion him over.

>Confused he comes over.

>The DJ starts playing slow music.

>Perfect.

>Couples, married or not come onto the dance floor.

> “What’s up?” Tim asks as he approaches you.

>You look down to Allison who seems to be dozing off.

> “Hold onto her, I need the loo.” You say and gently pass her over.

>Allison whines cutely for a moment before she finds warmth against Tim’s chest.

>He’s removed some over his plastic knight armour, including the chest plate.

>Allison snuggles up against his chest, possibly thinking it’s yours.

>Tim gives you a curious look.

>You smile at him and nod.

>You walk off towards the gents as the pair start swaying to the music.

>In the gents you empty you bladder in the urinal then zip up.

>You wash your hands in the sink and look at your reflection.

>You’ve taken off the stupid bald over-head mask but you’re still in the dungarees.

>What are you doing? You wonder to yourself.

>This whole thing was a bad idea.

>You shouldn’t have come back.

>But weakness brought your back.

>Fond memories brought you back.

>The chance to play pretend brought you back.

>To pretend you could have a normal life.

>Cute little rabbit wife.

>Lots of rabbit and human kids.

>Joy and laughter.

>Ice cream in the park.

>Good beer and good food shared with a loved one.

>With Allison.

>You wanted to pretend you were owed such a thing.

>You clenched your fists and close your eyes.

>Rein in your anger.

>You’ll wait here till the slow music changes.

>The door to the toilet opens.

>Adam’s friends walk in.

>All of them that came anyway.

>You noticed Adam isn’t among them.

>Synchronised urge to piss?

> “Dwayne.” One of them, a Doberman, greets.

> “Mick.” You nod back then look to the rest of them.

> “Synchronised pissing contest?” you ask with a smirk.

> “Something like that.” Mick replies with his own smirk, showing off his teeth.

>You nod nonchalantly and rubs your still wet hands over your dungarees.

>Not long after you leave the toilets as you end your call.

>Just a little chat with a friend from work.

>You make your way back to the dance floor.

>The music hasn’t stopped but you immediately see something wrong.

>The group dancers have parted, Tim is on the ground, Allison is kneeling beside him.

>Several people are pushing Adam away from the scene.

>You rush over.

> “What the fuck is going on?!” You snap.

>Tim slowly pushes himself up from the floor.

>He doesn’t look hurt.

> “Dickhead tried to start shit is all Dwayne.” Tim grunts as he get to his feet.

> “We argued, shouting. Then he tripped me.” Tim grimaces, rubbing his back.

>Adam wouldn’t have been stupid enough to start an actual fight in a crowded place.

> “Thank you Tim.” Allison whispers, clearly shaken.

>Tim bows his head.

> “A knight must defend the princess, right?” he remarks with a grin.

>You snort loudly.

>Allison laughs.

>Some of Allisons friends come over quickly to check on her.

>While distracted you step closer to Tim.

> “So how was the dance?” you ask.

> “Before “Tiny-Cock the lion” showed up it was nice, really nice.” Tim admits with a smile.

> “Good lad.” You reply and pat him on the shoulder.

>You both look to Allison as more come to check on her.

> “You did good Tim.”

>Tim smiles back at you, tired, the alcohol is getting to him too.

>You look to Allison as she looks to you and Tim.

>You step around Tim, arm still around him, and step closer to Allison.

> “One more dance?” you ask with a cheeky grin.

> “I’m knackered Dwayne.” Allison chuckles dryly.

> “Mentally and emotionally, I think I’d best head off.” She adds.

>You nod your head in understanding.

> “I’ll take you home love.” You reply then snap your fingers as a plan comes to you.

> “How about later on we all go out into town and have a few drinks together, just us and some friends, yeah?” you offer with a large grin.

> “What like tomorrow?” asks Big Stan, the Hulk Corgi as he looks up to the rest of you.

> “Tomorrow, maybe day after, some time soon.” You say, looking down at him.

>Matt Knob, lord of all he sees, steps up to the rest of you.

> “I’d like to go out, grab some food maybe?” His wisdom knows no bounds nor depths.

>You look to Allison with a soft and pleading smile.

>A hopeful look in your soft hazel eyes.

>You’re really pulling out all the stops here.

> “What you say lass, a bit of fun with just friends …” you say in your nicest voice.

> “… and maybe Sofia Dunn.” You quickly add.

>Said cat tell you to fuck off.

>You blatantly ignore her and not kick her in the cunt.

>For Matt Knob’s sake only.

>He needs that cunt for spawning children.

>Allison sighs, thinking it over in that drunken head of hers.

>The finally nods in agreement.

> “HUZZAH!” Dennis, the bald headed human friend of yours, shouts with victory.

> “HUZZAH!” you all echo drunkenly.

>You’re still sober.

>You all exchange phone numbers and agree to at least talk tomorrow.

>You know none of them will want to talk tomorrow.

>They’ll be nursing hangovers.

>You escort Allison towards the exit.

>She leans her head on your shoulder.

>Feels good.

>Bad.

>Sad.

>Heart breaks.

>Allison shifts in her grasp.

> “The fuck happened there?” she mutters.

>You look down at her.

> “What you mean?” you ask then follow her gaze.

>Boy’s toilets.

>Doors opened.

>Staff and other party members are panicking.

>You push Allison with more haste.

> “Ah probably some idiot puking in the sink.” You say as you make your way to the exit.

>Allison shrugs and mutters agreement and snuggles into you.

>You’ll pay for the structural damage via direct debit. No biggie.

>You get Allison into her car.

>You can in the driver’s seat.

>Having to adjust the seat so you’ll fit.

>You a little taller than her.

>You decide to take her to your house for the night.

>You drive home giving your old school a glance as you leave.

>Halloween is still in full swing.

>You see kids still in costume trick or treating.

>Kids laughing together and swapping sweets.

>Parents smiling at their little ones.

>This could be you.

>A small part of you says.

>No, no it can’t.

>The rest of you replies.

>You grip the steering wheel tighter.

>You finally reach home.

>You park outside your mum’s house.

>You turn your head to look at Allison.

>She’s dozed off.

>Poor dear.

>Whatever actually was put into those bowls was strong.

>It’s not a surprise Adam was getting uppity towards the end.

>Guy was likely just used to drinking lager and draft beers.

>You close your eyes and lean your head back against the head rest.

>A part of you is tired.

>Also kinda hungry.

>Your stomach roars.

>Scratch that very hungry.

>You glance to Allison and look her over from head to toe.

>She looks good.

>She looks beautiful.

>Peaceful in her sleep.

>She snorts then farts.

>A woman after your own heart.

>You turn your gaze forward staring down the lit street.

>More kids in costumes going door to door.

>Your gaze focuses on a young interspecies couple.

>Male dog, female human.

>The woman is holding a young wolf pup in her arms.

>They and their kids are all dressed up.

>A vampire, a werewolf, some other things likely from TV you didn’t know, a Power Ranger – classic.

>The kids rush back to their parents from the house they were just at giddily.

>They show their parents what they had gotten from the house excitedly.

>The parents put on a show of being excited for them.

>Maybe they are excited for them.

>You ponder quietly to yourself.

>What type of dad would you be?

>A cool dad?

>An awesome dad?

>The type of dad kids look up to?

>Telling cool, but heavily censored, war stories.

>Maybe embellish them a bit like a Stallone movie.

>Maybe your kids would be inspired by you.

>Maybe one would go into the army.

>Maybe one would go into the rescue services.

>Maybe you could trade stories with them.

>Or most likely you’d be the dad you thought you’d become.

>The dad not there.

>The “what was Dad like mum?” dad.

>The “buried in a shoe box” dad.

>The “ashes on the mantle place, but it’s actually soil because they couldn’t find your remains” dad.

>The killed in action dad.

>The type of dad your dad was.

>You don’t hate him for it.

>Never.

>Didn’t ever cross your mind.

>He wouldn’t have chosen his fate.

>Neither would you.

>But it was hard.

>So very hard.

>People would talk about him.

>Your mum would talk about him.

>Your grandad would talk about him.

>His old squad-mates would talk about him.

>You’d see pictures of him.

>Some days you felt you almost knew him.

>But you don’t.

>You never have.

>You never will.

>His memory lived on through others.

>On good days, you thought you could almost remember his voice.

> “’ere lad don’t tell yer mam, but I got us some ice cream from ice cream man”

>Remember his touch as he held you in his arms.

>But he was like a ghost.

>He haunted your mind and heart.

>He haunted your career.

>His legacy haunted your life.

>It didn’t help you and he looked a lot alike.

>Were you ever good enough to step out of his shadow?

>A war hero’s shadow.

>You know honestly you wouldn’t.

>Not after everything.

> …. Everything.

>You would never want your children to feel like that.

>You would never want Allison to feel like that.

>You wouldn’t.

>You focus back on the family; they’ve moved several houses down the street.

>Closer to yours.

>You turn to Allison.

>Still snoozing.

>You want to smile.

>You get out of her car then walk around to the other side.

>You unbuckle her then pick her up bridal style.

>She’s not heavy.

>You close the car door with your knee, then lock it.

>You make your way home.

>You open the door and step inside.

>Grandad and mum are watching horror movies in the living room.

>They turn and smile upon seeing you.

>Then immediately look at the dozing bunny in your arms.

> “Someone spiked the punch.” You say with a laugh.

>Mum rushes over to tend to the poor bun.

>Grandad not far behind her.

> “Poor lass. I swear kids these days.” Your mum shakes her head.

>Grandad snorts loudly.

> “Mary said the exact same thing, when you and John stumbled home drunk one night.” He says with a grin.

>Mum gives him a sour look but says nothing else.

> “I’ll put her in my room.” You say then make your way up the stairs.

>Ever careful not to hit her head on the railing.

>You finally get to your room and make you way to the bed.

>You carefully lay the sleeping bun down.

>She mutters incoherently in her slumber then snuggles into your pillow.

>It smells strongly of you.

>You look at her peaceful face once more.

>You give in to weakness and kiss her gently on the cheek.

> “Good night Allison.”

>You quietly leave the room.

>You head downstairs.

>Your mum and grandad are whispering to one another in the living room.

>You close them out, you don’t want to be rude.

>They finally notice you when you reach the foot of the stairs.

>Your grandad is frowning, worried.

>Your mum has the same look.

>You don’t like that look.

>Grandad nods to your mum then he stands up from his chair.

> “Why don’t you have a drink with your old grandad lad?” he asks.

>The smile on his face is suspicious.

>You don’t like where this is going.

>You nod your head though.

> “Aye, everyone got drunk at the party but me.”

> “I’ll keep me ear out for trick ‘r treaters.” You mum pipes in with a kindly smile.

>Your grandad leads you into the kitchen.

>There’s a few bottles of the heavy stuff on the kitchen table.

>You wonder how long they had this, whatever this was, planned.

>You both sit down at the table close to one another.

>You sit on his right.

>Grandad places his walking stick on another chair.

>He opens the bottle of whiskey and pours you a drink.

> “I bought this bottle before I shipped off to the war.” He announces.

>Holy shit whiskey from WW2.

>He pours his own glass.

> “I wanted to open it when I got back to celebrate our victory, but it was lost. I found it years later when going through my father’s things.” He explains with a smile.

> “Been waiting for a good time to open it.” He looks at you with a smile.

> “And every time a good time comes, I forget where I put it.” He laughs softly.

> “Sorry it’s for such a shite reason.” You apologise, it seemed like the right thing to do.

>Using his left hand he lifts his glass to his lips and takes a sip.

>He swallows then coughs briefly.

>He smiles once more then looks at you.

> “It’s not a shite reason lad.” He pats you on the back with his right hand.

> “A drink with me grandson.” He smiled at you fondly.

> “You’ve got other grandkids grandad.” You chuckle.

> “Aye, but your my favourite.” He laughs to himself.

>You take a sip of the drink.

>It’s strong.

>The burn as it goes down your throat is both welcoming and familiar.

>You barely flinch as you down the glass.

>Grandad is already pouring you both another glass.

> “Did you have a fun night lad?” he asks before taking another sip.

>You mull it over for a moment before responding.

> “Aye, it was a good night all-in-all.”

>He gives you a queer look.

> “Then why do ye’ look like ye just found yer dog dead?”

>You remain quiet for a moment, eyes glued to the table.

> “Why’d ye look so glum lad?” he asks again.

>You feel him place a comforting hand on your back.

>Your gaze shifts. You stare ahead.

>Your grandad waits for your answer patiently.

>A look of sympathy on his face.

>Finally you speak.

> “Just had a run in with Adam Davis and Rebecca Fisher.”

>You shrug and sip your drink.

> “Nothin’ big.”

> “I remember them,” he mutters.

> “Two little shits that think they’re king and queen of the jungle or some bollocks.”

> “Not so little anymore” you interject and finish your glass.

>He pours you another one.

> “You know what I mean, even at their worst ye never got like this.” He retorts.

>He’s not wrong either.

>As bad as they got.

>You just met it with equal bullheadedness.

>Was that racist to bulls?

>Whatever.

> “It’s about Ally, isn’t it?” you hear him ask.

>You turn to look at him.

>He’s giving you a not-quite-smile.

>The sympathy in his eyes isn’t judging.

>He knows what you’re thinking.

>He knows what you’re feeling.

>Because he likely felt it before himself.

>Damn he’s good.

> “Yeah, it is.” You finally reply and down your glass.

>He patted your back twice more then retracted his arm.

>He pours you another drink.

>You take a sip.

>He takes a sip of his drink, then downs it.

>He pours himself another glass.

> “I thought it would be.”

>You remain quiet.

> “Every soldier has this thought at one point or another Dwayne.”

> “This coming from experience?” you jest lightly.

>He gives a tiny nod of his head.

> “Aye, especially near the end of the war, I thought about dear Mary, bless her soul.”

>He sighs.

> “Not a day went by that I didn’t think about her.”

>He goes quiet.

>You don’t interrupt.

>That look you’ve seen so many times before.

>People call it the “thousand-yard stare”

>You dare not ask what he’s remembering.

>You refill his drink when he runs out.

>You down your own then refill it.

>He comes to with blinking eyes.

>He looks at you with sympathetic eyes.

>Remorseful eyes.

> “It can feel like we don’t deserve happiness, right lad?” he asks.

> “Yeah.” Comes your quiet reply.

> “Not when we’ve done. Objectionable things.” He says with a pointed look directed at you.

>Wait what?

>You turn to face him straight on.

>He’s staring at you from the corner of his eye.

> “My question Dwayne,” he begins slowly.

>He takes another sip of his whiskey.

>Tops it up from the bottle.

> “The main question I wanted to ask.” He continues.

>You hear your mum come closer.

>You see her in your peripheral.

> “How long you been in The Regiment?” he finally asks.

>You freeze.

>You stare.

> “What?” is all you can ask.

>You know playing dumb won’t work.

>But you try anyway.

>Your mother speaks up.

>She asks the question you didn’t want to hear.

> “How long you been in the S.A.S?”