FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Where'd they all go? I frowned. Just minute ago, the tour was taking me through landmarks and pieces of history I'd never seen. Ireland is a beautiful country, I have to admit, but now I'm lost. "Lost with no map, no phone service," I check again just to be sure. Damn.

I could try to call the name of the tour director, but now...I don't think I remember his name. Was he a he? I was too distracted thinking about the legends and ruins he'd been telling us about all day. A couple I'd overheard during the course of this all were discussing all sorts of fantastical things, ranging from stories of feral beastmen (probably just barbarians) and shorter magical furs. Leprechauns I think they were called?

Anyways, after only a little while longer of regarding the castle in front of me, a boom of thunder startles me, making me yelp and look to the sky. As if by some angry god, cloud cover starts moving in and darkening everything, and I don't doubt that rain is going to start coming down and soaking everything soon.

Thankful I'd only taken my phone with me for pictures today, I bury it in my pocket and weigh my options. I could try to run back to where the bus had dropped us off, but I'm sure I'd get turned around. Damnit, Crisp. You always let this happen. I growl in frustration and zip up my hoodie to ward against the wind that starts up, the moisture in the air warning me about an imminent downpour.

I check everything else, and sure enough one of my shoes is untied. I growl in frustration while I fix it, inconveniently timed for having the reaction to it that I do, which is to be hopelessly turned on in spite of the situation. All fixed, I look up and try to figure where to go from here, a quick adjustment to my pants all I make before leaving the thoughts alone.

On this scenic outlook, it's clear to see a huge forest expanding basically in all directions, but primarily behind me. There's only a few trees for a while ahead, and then they clear to reveal a very old, very overgrown castle_. If nothing else,_ I think to myself, starting to regret the short sleeves, they might have a museum in there or something.

The thunder sounds again, getting another yelp out of me and raising the fur on the back of my neck. The air feels energized, but it's something more than electricity. Without any extra deliberation, I hastily head out towards that castle, leaping the little enclosure fence signifying that I had hopped a "Scenic Overlook" spot. Really, the enclosures are probably just to keep tourists and their kids herded. Beyond the idea of of being here as a small break during my study abroad, I'd like to think I'm above all of the typical American tourists.

The chuckle I want to have at that thought turns to shivers as out of seemingly nowhere the rain I foresaw starts pouring and getting me more thoroughly soaked through than anytime I could ever remember in my life. The wind doesn't start out too bad, and I can navigate the trees barring my goal in short time for a while. Maybe the trees even served as a windbreak.

But once I made the clearing and could see the gigantic entrance to the castle, things changed fast. The wind starts shrieking, not howling. The rain starts dumping, not pouring. The thunder picks up in intensity until I'm almost sure I'm not in safe range to not be hit by lightning. There's basically no hope that I'll come away dry anytime soon, and I might be shaking water out of my tail a week from now.

I briskly run through the old decaying gatehouse, seeing nothing more than an almost equally old sign advertising a local inn situated right inside the castle. I can't believe my luck! I barely spare the time to read, "Rainbow's End Inn" or even the rates before I storm inside the door, a small side entrance made into the main one, likely because the true, 30 foot castle doors aren't easy to move under normal circumstances.

I slip on the smooth tiling right inside the door, catch myself with the door, and subsequently smack myself into it as it swings back into me. I swear to myself as I rub my head, all the time shivering. I'm probably pretty miserable looking. "Hey, yeah. Just looking for a room to stay in. I got caught in a storm, separated from my group, and smashed my head into your door on the way in." I'll be so lucky if I don't end up with a dumb-looking bruise.

All said, the entrance is quite beautiful, a sort of antique room just before the main desk. In glass cases ornamented with gold, small artifacts ranging from swords to model ships decorate the shelves and display cases. In spite of everything, I'm lost in the moment a bit, only brought back to the present when, in scratching my head, I rub over the spot I'd hit myself and groan. Right, have to get a room... Maybe even ask if they have some aspirin.

It's a small walk, but a pretty scenic walk, up to the front desk. Plenty more old items make their presence known in shining and glimmering light, begging me to pledge more time to staring if I should come back later. I think to myself, absently, in the back of my head, that I'm going to have to come back down here and ask around more before I leave. This kind of stuff is exactly why I wanted to look into someplace European for this study abroad. If I take some pictures, it'd be just the sort of thing to make everyone else jealous of my choice.

"How can I help ya?" The rolling Irish accents are a pretty big factor too. I still can't get over them. I look over and right into the eyes of the receptionist, a border collie, splotches of black and white fur included. He's easy on the eyes, if a little older, but the brightness of the green in his own eyes is far more of what keeps me staring a little while longer than is polite.

With a light blush, I finally recover. "Uhm, yeah. I got separated from my tour group in the storm, so I was wondering how much you charge a night." It's hard to keep my eyes from wandering his surroundings, even as he gives an easy chuckle and holds his paw out for me to shake.

His laughter is eventually joined uneasily by me, primarily because I'm just hoping I didn't make mistake in coming here. "Ah, boy, had I a pound for every sorry hound that came wandering around here lost, I'd be a rich man. I'm sorry to hear about the storm. I've only looked out the window, and I'd never want to be caught in that. How about you take this key," he hands me a key pulled so quickly from somewhere that I have to wonder just how he did it, "and head up the stairs over there." He gestures with his head. "My boy can take those clothes and get 'em dried if you want to wash up. The name's Brogan!"

I thank him profusely, and almost don't notice how tired I am until I yawn just as I'm about to turn to head up those stairs. Then walking doesn't feel quite right, and I look down to find my sneakers completely untied, freely flailing about and almost off my feet. How couldn't I have noticed that in the doorway? Or at least sooner? It feels like this has been happening too much today.

It's with a heavy blush and not unnoticeable discomfort in my pants that I have to bend down and fix my sneakers, right in plain view of Brogan, though he doesn't comment. I bite my lip and get everything orderly so I don't have to have this mishap again, and so that I can try to wait out the hardness it caused me for happening. Going for a double-knot I guess. I never like how it looks, but I don't have a ton of options if this sort of things is going to keep happening when I don't want it to.

Looking around at all the gold and glitter everywhere was enough distraction for me to stand up and play off everything in record time for me. There was that time a while ago that I was in public and someone stepped on a lace...

_ No, no. More distraction._ Well, similar to the fancy ornateness of just about every other piece of this place, they seem to glow with a radiance that seems more than natural. I hope that no one thinks I'm odd for constantly staring down random things in the hallway, or maybe even that I'm thinking of taking anything. It wouldn't be the first time my distracted mind got me in trouble.

The stairs creak a bit as I venture up, but I don't fear falling through. Despite the antiquity of the castle, everything on the inside seems restored and stable. On the last step, I trip, of course, and almost land on my muzzle. Instead, in an elaborate effort to save myself, I throw my arms out to catch myself. With the moisture still clinging to me, my paws slip on the marbled floor, and I still end up on my face.

I groan softly, and a while passes before I kick myself to get up. Absently, I think I might've heard someone laugh at my misfortune, but it was probably just the side of me who enjoys my pain. I swear I'm not normally this clumsy. Maybe it has to do with the suddenness of this storm. I've read somewhere that air pressure from storms--

Was that a shadow down the hallway? I shake my head quickly, trying to dispel this constant dizziness I seem to be feeling lately. It's almost like I'm dreaming.

I sigh and get myself up, still mentally and physically exhausted. The room number attached to the key claimed that the third room down the hallway was mine, and I have probably never been more grateful to take off my clothes. Okay, maybe a few times, but those times were a different type of grateful.

Smiling a little in recollection, I take in the small room I was given. It's very nice and very well decorated for being little more than a bedroom, bathroom, and the small hallway connecting the two. It's enough, though, and after closing the door, I also take off my sneakers, sighing in relief as I set them to the side to dry. I love the things to death, but between the water and the long day of walking, I could use the break. I only hope they aren't ruined by the rain...

A knock comes at my door, making me a little bit flustered. After my sneakers come off, I prefer to be alone. I answer the door in what has to be the meekest, more suspicious way, with the door barely pulled aside and only my face sticking out. Another border collie, this time younger but still resembling the front door guy, stands before me, green eyes and all. "Hey there! My father told me you might have some things you needed dried...?"

Oh, oops. "Yeah! Hold on a sec." I turn and quickly blitz to grab my wet clothes, not wanting to let him have a chance to come in the door. I return fast enough, but the look he's giving me is plenty accusing anyway. "Here, uhm..."

"Brandon." He grins huge. "You hiding something back there, Crisp?"

I turn and make to answer casually, even laughing once before running the logistics and turning back, confused. I both think and voice, "How do you know my name?"

The dog's big smile falters a moment, but that reaction is quickly hidden. "You mentioned it to my father, of course!" I'm not sure I did...

I go with it anyway. "Ah, right!" Smile again. "Well, thanks, Brandon!" He nods my way and then walks off, letting my gaze follow the collie for a while. Eventually I snap out of it and resume what I was up to, getting myself ready for a shower in another place's bathroom. I was never normally particular about it, but something about being in a castle to do so was telling me just how weird of a concept that would be.

I shrug and disregard those thoughts, resolving to shower anyway. If I have to be wet, at least it'll be warm and from a shower now, I assure myself. The shower itself isn't hard to work, and soon enough I've got myself sighing in content to finally have some warmth instead of the damp cold. I still feel a little disoriented from being so far from where I know and am familiar with, but I resolve to keep to the idea that I can figure it all out in the morning.

The shower itself is one of those stall corner box ones, and I close it more of out of fear of getting the whole bathroom flooded more than fear of being watched. That said, I could swear I see a few dancing shadows or figures just out of the corners of my eyes. Just before I can center my vision on any, they stop. It could just be my tired eyes imagining things outside the frosted glass of the stall. Then again, all day, things have been pretty abnormal...

I recap my day from beginning to end, thinking about any sort of details I could remember that would help me get somewhere safe again. Not to say this place isn't safe, but something tells me that a taxi won't just show up and carry me away from here all the way back to the city I was staying in. The tour guide had said something about his own phone number if we get lost. Perhaps I could try that in the morning or something.

With all the thought comes remembering all the untying and harassment that seems to have been very customary on this day of all days.

Absently, still in thought, I bend over to start washing my feet, having to position myself just right so that I don't bump into the stall. A quick and sudden slap on my rear end makes me perk straight back up, hitting my head again in the process. The pain almost makes me forget why I had shot up, but with the closed shower stall anyway, I decide I had to have imagined it. Right?

I shake my head and wrap up getting clean, certain that some sleep will resolve all of this clumsiness. I get out and start drying myself, finding a soft bathrobe hanging off the bathroom door. It'll do until I get my things back. Thankfully, I'd remembered to take my phone out of my pocket, and I reach for it to bide time while I wait for--

Where'd my sneakers go? In a brief glance, I looked down at where I'd left them at my bedside, expecting them to hopefully dry by the morning. Suddenly, they're missing. I break out in a nervous sweat, trying to keep myself calm but simultaneously about to have a panic attack. I love those sneakers almost more than life! Let's go halfway and say as much as life.

The room isn't gigantic, but it feels huge as I look from place to place, trying to find my shoes. A few times I tell myself that maybe Brandon came back and saw them all wet, and so took them to dry. That's almost worse than just thinking they're missing. I really don't want to be separated from them. So many memories...

I check everywhere, in a frantic jumble: under the small bed, by the door, inside the bathroom's door, the shower stall (I wasn't about to not check anywhere!), under the small desk that finished up the space in the corner of the room, the ceiling with a brief glance, even inside of the small coat closet that was opposite the bathroom. I whine pathetically, extremely bothered by this turn of events. Instead of attributing things to sore luck as I had all day, I finally start to open up to the possibility of someone out to get me. Who would be out for me and my shoes, though?

Resigning in a way that paints me closer to a pup than an adult, I continue to whimper after laying down on the bed, resting my head on--

No way. I check under the pillow, and sure enough, as though they'd never been missing, lie my sneakers. "Don't you bastards ever get away from me again," I scold the shoes, knowing that in the face of all the extreme happenings, it's possible they actually can hear me.

I don't hesitate to notice that they're both completely tangled up in each other, tied together in ways I couldn't imagine them happening upon themselves. I bite my lip and feel that heat rising from my unmentionables again, unable to help it. It is, after all, something I enjoyed happening back in the States all the time in slightly different circumstances...

I shake my head and clear my thoughts. No time for that right now...

No sooner do I find them and inspect them for damage (they are surprisingly drier than before, but maybe I took a long shower) than Brandon appears at the door again, knocking and politely asking if I'm there. I almost open the door wide, knowing that at least now I'm decent. The scuffle with finding my shoes keeps me in the present though, and I still only open the door the minimum necessary. "Hey again! I got most of your stuff dry, and I brought you a different pair of socks for the meantime, if you don't want to be barepaw."

I nod and acknowledge my missing briefs and socks. Not a major loss for now, but I would like to get back home with everything I came with if that could be a possibility. "Yeah, sure. Thanks." The wolf hands over most of my clothes, dried and rid of the overwhelming scent of rain. On top of the pile of clothes also rests a pair of oddly long striped green socks. I almost make a comment about how green will make me more Irish, but resist when I look back to Brandon's eyes, which have a strange glint to them.

Maybe this place wasn't a good idea after all. I'll be sure to get out as soon as I have all of my stuff back. "Hope you have a good night, Crisp." He walks off briskly, leaving me slightly puzzled but also grateful for clothes again. The loss of my sneakers is surely something I can resolve in the morning anyway.

I close the door and gingerly place my things at the foot of my bed, choosing to only put on the socks and some green briefs he'd brought me. Though they seem a little on the revealing side, I choose not to let them bother me. I've seen and worn worse.

But at least now I feel comfortable going to bed. I don't have a clock to check what time it is, but it hardly matters when I turn off the light and immediately yawn. It has been a long day after all.

Since the lamp was on the opposite side of the room, I have to trudge back a little ways to the bed, but have the weirdest thing happen to me en route. Instead of just feeling my way around the bed or getting there slowly, I jump, heel click, and end up right where I wanted to, in perfect position to then slide into bed without another delay.

The sooner I'm out of here, the sooner the crazy is over. I shiver to myself a little under the sheets, but it's not for lack of heat. I feel fine after that shower, and the striped socks are surprisingly warm. No, instead, there's this feeling of being watched even in the dark and even in this little bed in a little room in a gigantic castle. There has to be better things to do than pick on me, right?

It's a long time I spend on that bed, pressed up against one wall as it is, trying to see if I can spot anything moving in the darkness. I'm convinced that since I do have my back to a wall, nothing can creep up on me. Maybe if I act like I'm asleep, then I can fool whatever it is into showing itself.

A few minutes pass. I try to control my breathing. I stop moving. Twitch a foot occasionally. Make a few sounds in my "sleep." Nothing seems to work though. There's nothing approaching, nothing creeping about, nothing sneaking around. Just an old heating system that I listen to as it starts up and shuts off every few minutes, alerting me to the fact that all this time I could be using resting I'm still being stubborn and refusing to accept that I'm just having an off day.

Eventually, with a sigh, I allow my eyes to close, the last thing I feel is a very deep warmth coming from the socks, almost like they have their own electrical heating. With that last thought and one exhausted chuckle, I'm asleep.

In the middle of the night, something bothers me enough to wake me. Considering how tired I was, yawn, still am, it must be pretty pressing. Call it my curiosity, but I find myself wondering about the rest of the castle, and I even end up getting out of bed and ready to take a look around. The socks on my feet are pretty warm still, and it almost seems to be by their drive that I want to get up and walk around.

Though they clash horribly, I put my sneakers back on to walk around, and little other thought into what I slip back on and how, hastily putting on my pants and a shirt, and while I'm sure my own shirt was returned to me, I don't even spare a moment to check. It smells like me, at least.

I wander into the hallway, pausing at the door and peeking out as though to be caught outside my room at night would be punished, like when I was a pup. Sure enough, I'm greeted by the rich surroundings and gold plating and general shininess of the place again, and the attractive decorations draw me down the hallway, opposite the staircase I came up.

For the most part, I'm walking on autopilot, too tired to care where I'm headed as much as how much I'm still left admiring the walls to my right and the wide windows to my left. The walls are all adorned with paintings of some old ancestors, the beards and outfits telling much more of a story than anything else could.

Before I swivel left again, I suddenly stumble and almost fall down, my pants around my knees! I bark out in alarm, looking around for someone to accuse, since there could be no way those just fall down. I yank my pants up, slightly perturbed, and continue.

Faint giggles echo down the hallway before I'm besieged again, this time my pants coming down again along with untied shoes and a complete mess of everything when I trip and fall over again. I start growling, much too bugged and annoyed to pay mind to the automatic erection that results from the attention to my sneakers. I start to get up and find my shoelaces now tied together again, making me clench my teeth in several kinds of frustration.

"You'd think for all this trouble, someone would be waiting at the end of this hallway with a pot of gold!" The statement reflects my level of upset pretty perfectly, and also seems to scare off whoever has been attacking me lately, at least for the moment.

I manage to get back up with everything straightened again, adjusted in my pants, and ready to travel again before I see it. There, of course, had to be the validation behind my statement. As though God has been wanting to both prank me and give me more irony than I could even know what to do with, a statue at the end of the hallway has nothing more in its paws than a huge bar of gold, solid enough to be snuck out of here rather causally, though the places to put it would be limited to awkward bulges in my pants.

I almost laugh. Maybe this was worth this day of hell, after all.

That's the last thing I remember thinking before I literally feel myself poof.

I come back to consciousness somewhere strange, as it seems to be a medieval courthouse, likely still in the very same castle. "Will the prosecutor read the accusations?" A judge calls from somewhere over my right shoulder.

When did I end up here? Am I the guilty party? Should've known nothing could be that easy today. It would be my luck that these people would be so protective of their gold. I'd say leprechauns--

"What more needs to be said?! He tried to make off with some gold! I could see it in his greedy eyes!" It sounds like Brandon, and I look up and confirm that thought. Everyone inhabiting this castle must be here, though there can't be anyway they'd all blame me, right? They all seem pretty upset, but Brandon and Brogan are up front, the only two I'd actually seen this entire time.

The judge slams his gavel a few times with that said, attempting to silence everyone who got up in arms at that notion. "Order, order! Fine! I charge you, Crisp, with the crime of attempting to steal our gold in the dead of night! Brogan shall decide your fate!"

I don't look up to Brogan, deeply ashamed. I can feel the pink in all of my features, and I can't look away from my sneakers. They've been mercifully left alone for this time, but I feel them start to unravel even as I watch.

Somewhere inside, I wonder to myself why I hadn't protested the point at all, but between my shy personality and the fact that I literally have about a hundred people shouting and agreeing that I am guilty, I don't dare to testify the opposite. Who'd be my witness, anyway? I probably am guilty, but can you blame me?

From the crowd, I hear a few extra side comments, based mostly in hoping that I enjoy my punishment, that it will be a long night for me, and that they had higher hopes for a mortal. To be honest, I'm not sure what drove me towards that statue. It could be the socks, since they had and even now feel strangely warm. Who just displays that in the hallway though?!

"Put him in the Green Shoes!" Comes the barked order, and I yip in fear as I'm suddenly rushed by remarkably short furs, all reaching to hold me down and take off my sneakers. The handling of the shoes themselves, while rough, has a distinctly arousing sentiment about it, as though watching all of this wrestling and struggling for my shoes has me feeling a sense of desirability.

I scream and kick and try to get them off, but the kicking doesn't last long before the socks get intensely warm and I feel no more control over my feet than I do over the weather. I watch as a few of the short furs bring in a pair of huge looking green shoes, and they're passed down the grapevine and destined for my feet.

I panic a little, not catching where my own sneakers went. Instead, I watch in horror as I'm forced into these new shoes, the experience embarrassingly erotic for me, and the speed at which I got fully turned on was shocking even to me. Thankfully, still fully clothed, I don't think any of them notice through the mosh pit of struggle surrounding me.

The entire struggle puts me close to all the way over the edge, and perhaps that's why I blackout just as they start cheering, the second shoe forced on and even one fur taking the dedicated time to ensure they're tied properly.

I wake up standing, which is a stomach-heaving experience of vertigo when I remember that I don't have a history of sleep walking. I'm not in the courtroom anymore, but the surroundings are dark and it's hard to pick out details. I think I can see, faintly, details in the area that are all still gold-trimmed, just like all of the castle up to this point.

Suddenly though, light pours onto me from spotlights, and I realize I'm on a stage for some reason. I don't have my clothes on still, do I? My heart sinks in anticipation. A trivial glance downwards reveals that I've still got the green briefs and socks on from before, but the only addition now are a pair of huge, almost boot-like green shoes, where even more heat is coming from than the socks earlier. Memories of the recent struggle cloud my mind, stirring my cock a little and also shooting pink into my ears anew. Of course, I also didn't plan on streaking today.

It's literally a revival of some of my worst (and hottest) nightmares. I'm on a stage with nothing more than shoes and underwear, and as I lift my eyes to try to scan my audience, I see a lot of green eyes leering back, almost condescendingly. Because he is sitting closer to the front, I recognize Brogan and what might've been Brandon next to him. They suddenly don't look as warm as they did before, and considering I was wrestled into a pair of shoes, that's a very scary statement.

...Is there something I did, more than before anyway? Maybe I ought to stop being so clumsy around new people, I think to myself.

Suddenly, in a voice much more authoritative and even regal than last time we talked, Brogan declares, "For coming here with the ill intent of making off with our gold, you are henceforth sentenced to wear the Green Shoes!" The little version of me, perched on my shoulder, wants to correct the wolf and declare that I'm not out for anything other than a safe place here, but suddenly a rising hum picks up in the amphitheater, a faint series of vibrations through my fur coming closer to feeling like I'm being electrocuted more than anything else.

Without much warning, the room kicks to life, with smaller lights even coming up for backlighting for me to more clearly see the audience, and surely for them to easier laugh at me.

That's not even the worst part, though. Suddenly, music begins to play from somewhere I can't pin down, and the urge to start lifting my feet in time becomes overwhelming. I gulp in anxiety, knowing this can't mean anything good.

As if I no longer am the one in control of my feet, I begin to dance with the music, picking up as it starts to get louder. This is all, of course, much to the clamor and laughter and mockery of everyone else present.

I mentioned before that this is possibly one of my worst nightmares, but it also coincides with some of my most intense fantasies. As I start to literally tapdance on stage, it isn't without unrest in my briefs, and before long, I'm flushed and completely hard, stretching those briefs to their absolute limit. My ears pin backward in morose shame.

"Look at that underwear!" Someone calls. I can't help but be lit up the brightest shade of pink I could imagine. I actually feel a little dizzy from all the blood rushing to my head. I'm caught staring at myself helplessly, watching my feet dance and legs accompany the movement, all the while the audience from their lowered position can see everything.

"The boy's got a boner!" Another heckles, laughing like a hyena. And sure enough, I do. I can't keep myself composed at all when I have to strut around on stage, and much less concealed. My briefs feel as though they could tear at any time, and every pulse of my member sends shivers and shudders up and down my spine, making me softly moan a few times.

"What ridiculous socks!" The first voice calls again, clearly a critic to my forced fashion sense. His laughter melds into many more calls and laughs, picking up in volume progressively as the music continues to play onward, inspiring more elaborate foot steps and tricks, and even more than once having me turn the opposite way.

I can still control my tail, and it stays decently still and tucked in my shame. I'm already up here dancing for them. They aren't getting more than that. And yet...in spite of my anger and embarrassment at the situation, I can't imagine anything that plays into my love of my shoes any better than this. It isn't my own shoes, mind you, but there's still something undeniably exotic about this all to me.

The music begins to pick up in tempo, and in direct correlation, my cock pulses more and more frequently, and I almost can't keep my eyes open as I feel the pleasure the magical shoes and surroundings are encompassing me with. The laughter and mocking only picks up on this behalf, but my thoughts are miles away, riding cloud nine for all it's worth.

I wake up some time later, completely unsure if I'll actually want to open my eyes again. Eventually, feeling less heat coming from anything around my feet, I decide to chance it, popping one eye open.

It's the morning, and while I feel like I just got done running a marathon form all the soreness in my muscles, I'm not anywhere compromising to my own integrity. In fact, I'm back at the hotel I came from with the tour group, and everything seems to be back to normal. Mostly. Except, as I look around at anything else before I risk looking down, I see my old clothes in a neat pile, with my sneakers sitting on top of the pile, looking just as bright as the first day I'd bought them.

I can feel something on my feet, and if the sneakers are over there...

When I look down, it's no surprise to me to see the same glinting green shoes and striped socks still adorning my legs. I don't feel any heat, like I said before, but I still feel a twinge of a stir in my cock at remembering what I'd just gone through with these things.

I look through the pictures on my phone, wondering if anything could have maybe told me that was all in store for me that night. There's nothing of any significant note on any of the pictures, except for one photo I don't remember taking. I do remember seeing all the stuff around it though, so it has a place in my memory.

The picture, complete with a scenic castle in the background, is of a sign that warns, "Leprechauns in the area!" Had I not so freshly in my memory the entire scene of last night, I'd facepaw. It doesn't make any sense, even with everything I remember about that night.

The next picture goes back to ones I remember taking, and those bore me soon enough for me to turn the phone off. I take off the socks and shoes without any extra drama, but it's not without some guilty blushing and even more stirrings. I get dressed in my own clothes, leaving the gifted green briefs on, if for nothing else than some thoughts to keep me distracted for the train ride home.

Under my pants, when I pick them up from the folded pile, rests a note. In handwriting that is nothing more than scribbles, I faintly make out, "You can come and dance for us anytime you like, Crisp! After all, you owe us for the shoes..."

Leprechauns. Who'd have thought?