FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Spread out along the cushioned back-seat of the luxury car his father had provided, the youngster had a fine view of the passing streets as they flew hastily passed the window. All about him his bright, curious eyes met with new sights; the tall, sturdily-constructed buildings, the creatures making their away along the streets, the variety of products being thrust into the light of extravagantly built displays, all arousing his curiosity, drawing on his youthful excitement. It was all new to him, the experience almost akin to travelling through a foreign land, to visiting a place he had never before seen. Although the vehicle he was journeying in was known, the destination his own home - where his own parents were eagerly anticipating his return - his absence was so long, so isolated, that it felt as if he was seeing the world for the very first time.

Fourteen years, the term of his study had stolen from him. On the orders of the same parents that were so eagerly and lovingly waiting for their son to return, he had been taken from those he loved, from society, and hidden away from the world. Education, they had called it; the pursuit of knowledge and the improvement of ones intelligence. Within the vast walls of stone that had comprised the very base of his home for the duration of his cubhood, he had been taught of numbers, and languages, how to construct and manage a business, the fundamentals of law. By his eighteenth birthday he knew much of the sciences, and history, and the way to conduct oneself in the presence of equals, or subordinates. In many ways the establishment was a success, his placement within increasing his knowledge, preparing him for the inevitable job of succeeding his father, but when he looked back upon his time his feelings were only of hurt, anger, and betrayal.

They'd left him there at barely four years of age, and had never once visited him in the years they had been apart. As the journey took him closer and closer to parents he could not remember, only knew the existence of through the stories he had been told, he felt a great pain inside as he thought of how readily they had abandoned him in that place. Although he had been treated well - eating the finest food, being waited on by eager staff and taught by the finest of teachers - he had greatly hated the nature of his school. Everything was about money, and fame, and the amount of work that a student put into their studies. There were no breaks, no time away from working to pursue activities that might be fun, exciting and new. Despite the comfortable nature of life within, the establishment, at times, felt dull, stuffy and unappealing. As he grew in age, and became more curious about the world beyond the walls which encased him, he found that he was frowned upon, and punished, for displaying traits which were apparently inappropriate in the behaviour of a young heir.

Not that it mattered particularly now, for all that remained of his time within were the memories he held, and the heavy, suffocating suit that he wore about his frame. Even in cooler weather the smart trousers and clean, white shirt seemed to stick uncomfortably to his body, catching up in his furs and pulling tightly against his neck. Now, in the very heart of a particularly warm summers morning it itched dreadfully, became moist and heavy as it caught each droplet of sweat which trickled down his body. Already he had peeled off his jacket - folding it safely upon the seat beside him. His shoes and socks had been discarded next; kicked violently off onto the floor of the vehicle so that he might spread his toes, let the breeze gently cool his sweaty foot-paws. Almost idly, his fingers had found the small buttons of his shirt, the warm, metal buckle that secured the belt firmly around his waist. Were he anywhere else, he would likely not have hesitated to remove yet more of the damp clothing which adorned his frame. In the back of the family car, on the way to see his family for the first time in fourteen years, however, he couldn't help feeling that it might, perhaps, seem inappropriate -particularly as he was unfamiliar with the driver of the vehicle.

They were a servant of his fathers - a young, stubby-featured creature with small, rounded ears and a powerful tail which had dragged upon the floor as they walked. Smartly dressed in a suit and tie not too dissimilar to his own, they had retained a silent, dignified manner through the duration of their journey, although at times the fox felt that they were watching him for a moment or two. Not that he minded. In his later years of schooling he had found some excitement in being the centre of attention, of knowing that he had brought some joy to those that watched his actions. To see a smile occasionally break the lips of the otherwise stern and determined face of his driver made him chuckle a little.

"So, what do you do for my father?" He decided the time was right to begin conversation, as the bustle of the city began to fade into quieter fields beyond the window. Despite the cold waves of air coming from the cooling system of the car, he still felt incredibly hot and sticky, wriggling uncomfortably against the warm leather of the seat as he spoke. Not for the first time, his actions were met with a low chuckle, a quick flick of the head towards him from the one that drove the vehicle.

"Actually, I'm not really here to serve your father, sir." Their tone was low, respectful as they spoke. In response to the questioning gaze of the fox, they chuckled briefly before continuing to explain. "I'm your personal assistant sir, to serve and care for your needs at all times. Your father took me on a few months ago, I think mostly because of my age. He wanted somebody similar to your own, sir, so that you might feel more comfortable. I have a small room in your home, so that I might be available to you day and night, sir. I'm honoured to be serving you, sir, I hope you'll find me my service satisfactory."

"Please don't call me 'sir'", The fox responded with a shudder. Having been waited on for years by trained servants, he had grown rather sick of the word. He didn't want servants, and when questioning the young fellow he had certainly not expected such a submissive response to so simple a question. It felt peculiar, wrong that another should be serving him purely because his father had money. Respect was fine, but the nervous simpering of the stranger was something that served only to sadden him a little. "It's Whiskey, alright? I've never been one for titles, and I'd much prefer you called me by name, do you think you can manage that?"

"Of course I can, mister Whiskey, sir!" They responded enthusiastically enough, before realizing how badly they had slipped-up and stammering a nervous apology. Brushing it off with a laugh, Whiskey stretched to his fullest upon the seat, spread and wriggled the toes of the large foot-paws he had placed upon it. Compared to the rest of his body, they felt cool, refreshed by the freedom to experience the breeze from the open window, the waves from the air conditioner. Without much thought he begun to fiddle once more with his buttons, to undo one, and then another, until his shirt breezed opened to reveal the thick carpet of fluffy, white furs beneath. Through these the wind coursed, caressing the sensitive body, drawing from him a low whimper of contentment and a playful waggle of that long, brush-like tail as his warm, sweat-dampened torso was cooled.

"Feeling a little better?" His companion spoke up from the drivers seat, where their gaze had been drawn to the fox by his low whimper. Unable to shift their eyes from the road, they were carefully watching his movements through the rear-view mirror of the car. Letting out a low chuckle while playfully wiggling his naked toes, Whiskey responded to their comments with a soft smile which lit up the entirety of his youthful features. Idly, his paws had already found the buckle of his belt once more, were beginning to fumble longingly with the warm metal that locked it to his slender frame. Hopeful, willing for them to respond with a positive, he threw a longing glance at his driver, before lowering his gaze suggestively towards his trousers.

"Do it, if you want too." Their reply was one of amusement and excitement, rather than the low, gentle tones of before. Needing no further persuasion, Whiskey wasted no time in unbuckling the belt and yanking it, without particular care or attention, from around his waist. Discarding it carelessly, he already felt a little excited, free from the enslavement of the clothing which represented the unpleasantness of his younger years. Without even considering his position, or the presence of the driver who was carefully - whilst still maintaining a view of the road -watching his every movement, he undid the button of his trousers, unzipped the fly and wriggled his lower body free from the stifling objects.

Beneath his legs were much like the remainder of his body - slender, dampened a little by the sweat that still dribbled down his frame, covered in a layer of fluffy fur of an attractive light-brown. Along the insides, strips of a thinner, silky white-fur marked a passage up towards his groin, and the little bulge beneath his briefs which marked the sheath and genitals of the fox. These, too, were soon brought out into the light; the descent of his underpants bringing forth both the little stub of fur and skin which housed his penis, and a scrotum which, although fairly small and not particularly impressive, seemed somehow to sit perfectly upon his frame.

"That's better," He whimpered appreciatively, as he spread his naked body out fully upon the seat. Aware that he was being followed by the keen eyes of his driver, he chuckled playfully, curled his vast, fluffy tail up and over his groin, let it waggle a little where it covered his sensitive underparts. With nothing now restricting the coolness of the air around, he felt refreshed, revived a little. Placing his paws behind his head, letting his toes continue to wiggle into the breeze coming through the open window opposite, he closed his eyes and let himself be rocked softly by the gentle rhythm of the moving vehicle.