FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Dorian had enrolled in a gym close to where he had recently moved. The black panther, with deep blue eyes and fur as dark as night, was twenty-one years old when he decided to accept a job offer in the city of Monte Aurora.

His new job came with several benefits, and the gym was one of them. It hadn’t been easy for the young feline to manage life on his own, but he was handling the new events of adulthood reasonably well.

The panther wanted to take a different direction in his life and take better care of his health. Dorian had always been skinny and shy. His black fur hid thin arms and slender legs, which was why he had been mocked throughout school and never had many friends. But now, that could change.

His first class would be on Tuesday. It was July. The cold air brushed against his whiskers, drying his eyes and lips. When he breathed, the chill mixed with his warm breath, forming a light mist.

He wore a red coat and a black beanie, walking toward the gym while watching the fog cover the streets and avenues, gray with pavement and sidewalks.

As soon as he entered, he headed to the reception desk.

“Good afternoon… it’s my first class here. May I speak with the instructor?” Dorian tried to pull his phone from his pocket to show it at the front desk. He had a pass provided by the company he worked for, but he hadn’t noticed who was standing in front of him.

“Oh, of course. Welcome to Gym Rat Club. In this case, I’m the instructor myself. Do you have a pass?”

A shadow covered the warm light from the lamps. The man’s voice was booming and deep like thunder. Dorian grabbed his phone, but when his eyes met those of the receptionist, the panther dropped it.

The instructor was much bigger than him. His bulky arms stretched against a thin black jacket. Caramel-colored eyes watched him curiously. His fur was gray mixed with black streaks across his face, like snow and coal woven together. His black hair swayed slightly from the cold air entering the lobby. His gray ears were large, and he wore an earring on the right one. His nose, paws, and tail were a salmon-pink color.

He smelled like vanilla.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” the instructor asked with a grin.

Dorian blushed. His heart pounded.

“I—I’m a panther!” he said, recovering his phone and handing it over.

“Wow, a black panther. There aren’t many felines in this city. My name’s Jonathan, but you can call me John!”

The instructor glanced one last time at Dorian’s photo on the pass, as if interested in some small detail, then hurried to unlock the turnstile for the boy.

They shook hands, and Dorian could feel John’s strength. The rat’s paw was twice the size of his, his fingers soft for someone who trained so much, though Dorian noticed the pads were heavily calloused.

John gave him a friendly pat on the back.

“I’ll show you around the gym. Dorian, right?” he asked with a smile.

“Y-Yes!”

The instructor handed the phone back.

“It’s a nice name. I’ll help you with your first workout. Don’t push yourself too hard, okay?”

John led him through long corridors that felt like a maze. Dorian saw canines using the machines and some bovines shouting like wild animals. All those men looked incredibly strong. As a newcomer, he drew a lot of attention on his first day. Everyone stared at him with curiosity. The panther already felt uncomfortable with his body, and that only made it worse.

“Don’t worry. Most people get curious when fresh meat shows up,” John said, as if reading his mind.

“What do you mean by fresh meat?!” Dorian asked, startled.

“Just an expression!” the rat teased with a mischievous grin.

They reached a small room at the end of a narrow corridor. John opened a wooden door and invited the newcomer inside. It was an office, with an oak desk at the center and a few trophies displayed on a shelf beside it. Dorian noticed a photo of the rat on a beach, wearing a striped white-and-red shirt.

The rat leaned back in a chair and rested his paws on the desk.

“Alright. Take off your clothes,” John said with a smile.

Dorian thought he must have misheard. He blinked a few times, confused.

“H-Huh?”

“Relax. It’s not what you’re thinking. I need to assess your physique—to see how your muscles are doing.”

“I’m not getting naked in front of you!” Dorian replied, clutching his hoodie to make sure it was still there.

The rat laughed softly, removed his paws from the desk, and leaned forward with his elbows resting on the cold wood.

“Don’t get me wrong. You are cute, but this is a physical assessment. I can’t give you a workout plan without knowing what you’re capable of.”

Dorian felt warmth spread through his chest at the compliment. He wasn’t used to that and hesitated. John noticed and said:

“You can keep your pants on. Just let me see your upper body.”

He pointed at the young panther’s jacket with pink fingers and black claws.

Dorian obeyed, still shy about showing his body to someone else. The rat stood up and began circling him. His heavy steps echoed against the floor. John leaned closer to Dorian’s chest, narrowing his eyes. The panther leaned back slightly, trying to hide how hard his heart was racing.

“You’ve got a well-defined body for someone who’s never trained.”

“Is that… good?” Dorian asked.

“It’s great.”

John’s voice softened. Dorian tried to hide the blush on his face, looking anywhere but the instructor’s eyes. The way John examined every detail made his fur bristle.

“It means your body has potential. With the right training, you could surpass a lot of people here.”

The rat grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and began scribbling. When he finished, he handed it to Dorian.

“I recommend starting light. I marked the exercises you’ll do today and the number of reps. Later, your workout plan will be available on your phone.”

“Oh… okay.”

“Do you have workout clothes?”

“Actually… no.”

John opened the third drawer of the oak desk and handed Dorian a few gym-branded clothes, neatly folded inside plastic.

“There’s a locker room at the start of the hallway. You can change there.”

John placed a paw on the feline’s shoulder and crouched down, looking him in the eyes.

“Relax, big guy. You just need confidence.”

Dorian took the clothes and tucked them under his arm, blushing once again.

That rat stirred powerful feelings inside him.

He changed into the new workout outfit. The locker room was empty at that time. The gray pants fit well, but the shirt was a bit too big. Holding the paper, Dorian walked through the gym, wondering if there was a smaller size.

The place was massive and brightly lit. Despite the teasing, John seemed like a good instructor—and Dorian had to admit, he was quite the man.

After spending some time on the treadmill, Dorian noticed that some felines were much bigger than him, with strong triceps and biceps. His next exercise was the bench press. No one was using it. The paper recommended starting with five kilos, but when he saw a tiger loading fifty onto a machine, he realized that if he wanted to get strong, he’d need to do more than that.

He decided to take a risk.

John was assisting a group of canines.

He wouldn’t notice.

Two ten-kilo plates on each side. He secured them with clamps, adjusted his tail, lay down on the bench, and lifted the bar. As he lowered it, his muscles burned like embers. By the third rep, his arms began to shake.

“Dorian! That’s too much. Take some weight off!” John shouted from across the room, stretching out an arm as if trying to stop him.

Dorian stubbornly tried again, lowering the bar for a fourth rep. Sweat clung to his black fur. Triceps, biceps, chest—everything was pushed to the limit until his muscles gave out. The bar crashed down onto his chest with a deafening clang as metal pressed against bone.

Dorian lost his breath, struggling to free himself, but the bar pinned him down. The metal crushed his lungs. The clamps prevented him from tipping it to the side.

He was trapped.

John sprinted over. With one arm, he grabbed the bar and hurled it aside in a hurried motion, as if the weight were nothing. Some nearby canines stumbled back in shock as the equipment slammed into the floor, cracking one of the tiles.

Dorian felt nothing but a burning in his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. His vision blurred. His limbs were limp and hot. He tried to speak, but no sound came out.

“Damn it, Dorian. Can you hear me?”

The rat pulled him from the bench and gently laid him on the floor. He knelt and tore open Dorian’s shirt, pressing his large pink ears against the student’s chest.

Dorian tried to respond, but his lungs still burned. The only sound he made was a pained groan.

“He’s not breathing!” John shouted.

John placed his paws on the floor and leaned in, bringing his snout close to Dorian’s.

The world faded away.

Then warmth flooded his lips, and air rushed back into his lungs. He had never felt anything like it before—warm, comforting, and above all… intense.

A wave of heat spread through his body. His arms twitched. His heart thundered. He opened his eyes. His black claws dug into something solid.

When he regained consciousness, Dorian found himself staring into John’s caramel-colored eyes. His paw was pressed against the instructor’s chest.

They slowly pulled apart, lips separating reluctantly, as if neither wanted to break the contact. Dorian withdrew his claws.

John’s worried face was all Dorian could focus on. He smiled. Dorian coughed and blushed, his lungs finally drawing in air again.

“Thank goodness. You’re okay,” John said, relieved.

The gym fell silent. The shouting canines and the grinding machines stopped, replaced by long, mocking laughter aimed at Dorian.

All he had wanted was to look better—and now he was a joke. Coming there had been a mistake. He felt powerless and humiliated. Tears welled in his sky-blue eyes. His teeth clenched in frustration. His fists tightened, and his fur bristled.

“Quiet!” the instructor commanded.

The laughter stopped instantly. A canine with more seniority at the gym approached Dorian and John.

“Well, well. Bet you were just waiting for an excuse to steal a kiss from the rookie.”

John stood, fists clenched.

“Marcus, don’t start.”

“Why not? What happened here was pretty clear—to me and to everyone.”

Dorian didn’t know the canine, but he could tell John didn’t like him.

Marcus was a Rottweiler with an upright posture, as muscular as the instructor. His black coat gleamed under the gym lights, mixed with caramel tones. His large ears gave him an imposing presence, and the way he crossed his arms reeked of arrogance. His green tank top was soaked with sweat.

“Why don’t you admit you did it on purpose and took advantage of the situation?” Marcus shoved John, forcing him back. Their expressions hardened instantly, sparks flying between their glares. “Deep down, you just want attention, don’t you?” he added with a grin.

The rat’s teeth clenched. When Marcus tried to shove him again, John grabbed the dog’s wrist and shoved him back forcefully.

“And if I did? And if I liked it? What’s the problem? Got something against it?”

“Against it? Looks like you enjoy causing trouble at the worst possible time. And that makes things harder for everyone here.”

“Watch your tone. I could kick you out right now. I kissed him, yes—but at least I saved someone’s life. Unlike you, who only knows how to put others down.”

Marcus was pulled away by his friends, still snarling insults as he turned his back.

Dorian had never been defended before. For the first time in his life, someone stood up for him instead of condemning him. The gym slowly emptied until only Dorian and a few other students remained.

His muscles begged for rest. Chest, arms—even his back ached. He felt pain in places he didn’t even know existed.