FSE

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And my second book is out! Again, edited by myself and Rechan and containing a story from each of us. You can order a copy here:

For Print: http://furplanet.com/shop/item.aspx?itemid=828

For Ebook: http://baddogbooks.com/?product=wil.....of-the-alpha-3

But first, a sample of my story! It's a cyberpunk bondage story, and like all of the stories in this book it contains straight or transgender characters (Will of the Alpha 2 has all of the gay stories).

Lucid Daydream

Lafitte

"You won't find anybody lucid here, otter." The bouncer, a gruff bear who could pass as a leather daddy in what he probably thought of as a "tough guy" outfit, handed Shell's ID back to him.

Shell decided against a catty remark and simply entered the club; Evolve, its name like a challenge in neon red outside, asking if you were capable of reaching its pedigree. Such naked cliquishness almost stood at odds with the attention grabbing facade. Most clubs outside of the mainstream tried to draw little attention, lest people too normal wander in and pick fights with whatever subculture hid inside.

Apparently the patrons of Evolve weren't worried about outsiders.

Shell slipped his wallet back into his pocket, a snug fit in shorts tight enough to show his build. He'd kept his coat closed over his skimpy outfit on the way over, avoiding the attention of the less open-minded, but once inside he shed the garment and left it at the coat-check. Shell felt gorgeous in a tight halter-top that bared his midriff with a collar attached, and a pair of skin-tight shorts made from some glossy, synthetic material. Leggings and long gloves that nearly covered their respective limbs continued the theme; little skin showing but nothing hidden. Only the otter's short tail remained unadorned.

He was dressed to be flashy, and to advertise what he'd come here for: submission.

Once inside the club Shell had to shield his eyes from the burst of light and color. It was still oppressively dark but everywhere he looked the gloom was pierced with lasers swinging overhead, colored lights whipping over the crowd and sudden explosions of strobe light. Holographic screens hovered in the air, playing animatics along with the pulsing electronic music. Every now and then a projected image would dive from one holographic screen into another, like dolphins at a water show.

Once he had grown accustomed to the light Shell looked for someone to talk to. He felt unusually shy in such an unfamiliar crowd, but he refused to leave here empty handed tonight He walked up to a pair of felines in a dark corner who stared at him blankly as he approached.

"Hey, I don't suppose either of you knows Lucid?" Shell smiled despite his nervousness; they were patently unsociable. Emotionless as robots.

One of the cats, an androgynous siamese draped in a black leather trench coat, shook his head. The other cracked a disdainful smirk, looking away from Shell as the first spoke, "Lucid isn't a popular choice here."

"Then you do know her?" Shell brightened up at how easy that was.

"No." The other cat, an equally androgynous gray furred girl, couldn't be bothered to look at him. "We mean most of us are high."

Shell moved on dejectedly, remembering the other night at the bondage club. Three Domme's he sometimes played with at a table, distracted from their usual power games with one another to discourage him. He'd gone in asking about sense-hacking, a term he'd seen popping up in forum discussions. Some sort of darker, harder version of BDSM born out of cybernetics and hacking.

He slumped on a wall, looking out at the crowd milling about the dance floor and examined his visible fur. It had darkened with his mood, making the e-tattoos beneath all but invisible. With some concentration he managed to lighten his fur so the dark lines could be seen beneath like circuitry. The lines carried power to devices and computing components implanted throughout his body and wired directly into his nerves, allowing the implants at the base of his skull to interact with his body's nervous system.

None of it was all that exceptional, really, but it also wasn't low end either. High enough quality that he refused to engage in any sort of play that could damage them. Electricity was right out, cutting was very dangerous and even a lot of impact play could be a problem. That was part of the reason this sense-hacking intrigued him; it was all in your head, where it couldn't damage you.

To Shell's surprise, a woman approached him. Heavy-set, canine, dressed in some sort of goth dress with a lot of tattered lace. Black make-up that didn't really compliment her well but the goth sorts never cared.

"Haven't seen you around here before." She idly swirled a cup of some oddly shimmering liquor while she spoke.

"I don't suppose you're Lucid?" Shell asked, not exactly hopefully; he could already read this girl as high maintenance.

The briefest moment of surprise crossed her face, quickly enough that Shell wasn't sure it had been there at all, and then it was gone. Instead she glanced at her cup and smiled. "I can be whatever you like, if it'll get you to keep coming back."

"No, it's a name." Shell groaned.

"I know it's a name." She snapped. Suddenly the canine seemed older, more mature, more confident. Her tone had Shell standing at attention before he realized it. He supposed her 'personality' must be an attempt to just have fun. The sort of person who switched their brain off when work ended.

The woman sighed and shook her head. "It's a name that won't help you here, though."

"Another submissive told me to come here and look for them, though." Shell heard an unwelcome whine in his own voice. "Someone here has to know how to find Lucid!"

The woman looked him over and shrugged before turning around and walking away. He'd felt so close... and then nothing! Dejected, he headed for the bar, hoping a drink would soothe his nerves.