FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“What is . . . space?"

Cynthia Havilick, captain of the starship Furred Razor, paced along the cheap gray floors of the bridge, speaking dramatically.

“For so long as we can remember, anthros . . . and humans . . . have dreamed of life . . . among the stars. We journeyed from the bosom of our home, penetrated the veils of nebula, thrusted our civilization into the fertile crevice of new . . . worlds. Bold women. Heroes."

“Multiple signatures detected!" shouted Officer Felthersnatch, slapping the blinking lights on his console.

Helmswoman Clee Torres, a veteran fox of the fleet, pulled her throttle all the way to her heaving breasts. “Taking evasive maneuvers!"

Captain Havilick continued to pace. Around her, the bridge of the starship Furred Razor was in chaos. Crewmen sprinted to various consoles, waving at the blinking lights, while a tinny alarm played along the speakers, underpinning her monologue. There was movement, shouting. The arctic wolf watched her subordinates with a look of pride . . . and a perfectly timed pause.

“Friends!" she shouted, holding out a dramatic hand. “Comrades! Today, we face the Gryeen menace! They have come to take our humans! They will not stop until their supple . . . skin is within their paws! Flatten your ears, raise your hackles! Today, we fight—"

A rumbling shook the floor. Sparks erupted from the console to her left, eliciting a dramatic fall from the officer. The lights flickered, the women braced at their stations.

Havilick steadied her white-furred paw on the captain's chair. “Felthersnatch, status report!"

“Secondary engines lost, captain!" The male bearded dragon gazed in horror at his blinking lights, finding meaning in the random colors. “Boosters overheating! Ma'am, they're trying to disable the ship!"

Havilick pounded her chair with a fist. “Fire neutron dongs! Full phase!"

“Releasing!"

A shudder passed through the floor. As red lights descended from the ceiling, adding to the whine of the ship-wide alarm, more crewwomen began to rush from the bridge, brandishing fire extinguishers. Their hazmat armor appeared like poorly wrapped aluminum foil.

“Ma'am, we're venting atmosphere! Fires on every deck!"

Helmswoman Clee Torres gave a dramatic gasp. “Direct hit to the holo-rape room! It's gone, captain!"

“Not the holo-rape room!" a crewwoman cried.

“Steady!" shouted Havilick, standing heroically. “Reroute non-critical power! Protect life support! Clee Tores, take the ship . . . into . . . the asteroid field!"

“The neutron dongs hit!" Felthersnatch shouted, pumping a scaled fist. “Gryeen frigate destroyed!"

“Keep firing! Prepare to launch nuclear torpenis on my mark!"

“Captain!"

Communications Officer Iaini Jogoo, the sole human officer on the ship, stood with his back to the line of blinking consoles, gazing up at the arctic wolf. He was the finest example of what humans could offer the anthros of the Star Penetration.

“Captain!" Jogoo said, his face pale, his skin slick with sweat. “The Gryeens are hailing us! They want to talk!"

Havilick softened the snarl on her muzzle. Even in combat, she could not yell at her treasured mate. “Open comms, Jogoo. Let's see what those . . . smelly Gryeens have . . . to say!"

“Aye aye, captain! Opening—"

Suddenly, Jogoo began to moan. All the crewwomen stopped in their tracks, instinctively turning toward the sound of a human in distress. The proud communications officer, who had spent years of his life proving the value of human men, slumped against the cheap imitation metal of his workstation.

“Jogoo!" Havilick cried, almost leaping off the captain's conn. “My love!"

“Oh, Cynthia!" Jogoo tried to push himself back to his feet, whimpering with great effect. “It's the parasite! The parasite I was infected with! The parasite that makes me have to have sex!" He gazed up at the arctic wolf, his face pale and shivering. “I need to have sex! Or I will die!"

Havilick whined, swishing her fluffy tail. “Come here, my love. Save yourself."

“No, Cynthia! I am a proud human! I will never enjoy your luxurious fur! Your gentle paws! Your awesome tits!"

“It's the only way! Your sex parasite will kill you with sexless agony!"

All the crewwomen watched in silence. Another rumbling shook the bridge, unacknowledged.

“You need your communications officer!" Jogoo said, grasping his chest in pain.

“Stars damnit, man, I need you to live!"

For a moment, Jogoo stood at his station, sweat streaming down his face. Then, quickly, he ran for the raised platform of the captain's chair, as if he was finally letting himself go where he had always wanted to be. Havilick took off her pants and sat down in her chair, spreading her legs. Jogoo fell to his knees before her.

The captain had to focus on saving the ship. Jogoo had to quell the sex parasite inside him. There was only one solution.

He stuck his head between her legs—with her thick white fur surrounding him, it felt as if he was entering a soft valley of snow. There was a river of pink flowing at its center, and Jogoo buried his face against it, licking her pussy with flat, gentle sweeps. Above, Havilick tried to suppress a whine.

“Ma'am," Clee Torress said, staring up at the captain. Her expression was dire . . . and a little jealous. “The Gryeens have stopped firing. They're waiting on your answer."

“Prepare a full salvo of neutron dongs," Havilick said, her paw resting on Jogoo's head. “If negotiations fail, throw every—"

She took a sharp breath. Jogoo traced her folds, kissed her thighs, found every nook and cranny that she could offer. She could feel his passion on every twitch of his tongue, and he could taste her love on every seep of liquid.

“If the Gryeens attack," Havilick said, forcing the words, “throw everything we have at them."

“Aye, ma'am," Clee Torres replied, her face grim.

“Open comms!"

A crewwoman rushed to Jogoo's empty post. After slapping some random buttons on the panel, a projector screen began to descend from the forward window of the bridge. The cheap white fabric was the strongest quantum entanglement device of the Star Penetration. Electronic noises were played as the connection was secured.

Jogoo looked up, his lips still attached to his captain. Havilick watched him from between the valley of her breasts. When their eyes met, he kissed her rosy flesh, gentle and sweet, and the arctic wolf began to stroke her claws through his wavy brown hair, a smile breaking through her expression.

“I love you," she whispered.

“Captain Havilick!"

On the quantum communication screen, an ugly face appeared—Matriarch Norma Scock, clan leader of the Gryeens. She had brown eyes, wide ears, spots running down the furry mane of her neck. The fearsome alien warrior looked almost exactly like a normal hyena woman . . . except for the green tint of her fur.

“At last!" Norma Scock shouted, baring her predator teeth. “I have fucked the great starship captain, Cynthia Havilick!"

The arctic wolf curled her muzzle. “Scock. I suppose the Gryeens would try to fuck a woman."

“Our dicks don't work like that!"

“One could say that your rise to power took a lot of . . . balls."

“Shut up!"

Havilick nudged Jagoo's head further down between her legs. He was beginning to circle her clit, and she had to focus. “Let's not waste . . . time! You have us surrounded. Exposed. What . . . are your demands?"

Norma Scock lowered her eyes to the human kneeling between Havilick's legs. She licked her green chops. “Exactly what you're enjoying, captain."

“Never!" shouted the fox helmswoman, Clee Torres. “You won't take our humies!"

Havilick gripped her arm rest. “Our humans are not for sale. I can offer you anything else."

“Oh, but, captain," Norma Scock said, leaning into the camera, “I don't want anything else. I am the Matriarch of the Gryeens! I have legions of ships, thousands of crew! I eat bones with every meal, and I subjugate planets with every wave of my hand!"

“But, Matriarch," Havilick said, “what of . . . love? Art and music? What of the spiritual enlightenment inherit in democracy?"

“Bah!" cried the green-painted warrior. “I want a humie to lick my pseud! I want him to cradle the balls and stroke the shaft! When he's lying in my bed, bleeding with my cum, I want him to cry for the wolf who could've saved him!"

Jagoo stopped licking, gripping Havilick's thighs in fear. She stroked his head in reassurance. Slowly, he began to eat her out again, softly whimpering into her pussy.

Havilick bared her teeth. “That will not happen, Scock. As captain of the Furred Razor, as a sworn defender of the Star Penetration, I will not let you take a single strand of humie hair."

The Gryeen gave a savage grin. “I knew you would say that."

Suddenly, rumbling shook the bridge. Crewwoman tumbled from their seats as the walls began to quake, as if moved by hands behind the scenes. The blinking lights started to blink even faster.

“Captain!" shouted the fire officer, Felthersnatch. “The Matriarch's sent boarding parties! They're cutting through the hull!"

“You bitch!" Havilick shouted.

Norma Scock began to cackle wildly.

“Cut the comms!"

“Your humans will be mine! Their soft, little tongues! Their smooth, hairy coc—"

The transmission ended. As the quantum entanglement communicator rolled up its fabric, the bridge became a chaos of motion and shouted orders. Anthros of all ranks and fur colors began to gather laser rifles, preparing to defend the ship.

“Stop!" Havilick shouted.

All the officers of the Furred Razor stopped in their tracks, ears and tails swiveling.

“Head to the escape pods. I will distract—" She straightened in her seat, fighting down a moan. “Not the clit, Jogoo!"

Jogoo lowered his head again, diving into her folds with mouthing bites and questing licks.

“I will distract the Gryeens," Havilick said, her voice determined. “It's me the Matriarch wants. If you leave now, you may escape with your mates."

“But cap'n!" shouted the Welshwoman, Dixon Kuntz. “We nae gonna sell ye to the smelleh beasts!"

“That's an order! Your directive is to protect human lives, not throw your own away! I will face the musty marauders! Alone!"

Felthersnatch lowered his poorly designed rifle. “Ma'am. . . ."

“Go! Now!"

Some of the officers left immediately, racing for the human quarters. Others hesitated, knowing it would be the last time they ever saw their captain without Gryeen cum in her fur. Helmswoman Clee Torres stood from her seat, faced the wolf, and threw a salute.

“It's been an honor, captain."

Havilick gave a single nod.

The women ran through the imitation metal of the doorway. Slowly, the doors slid shut behind them, letting the symbol of the Star Penetration reform. Now, the bridge was empty. Lights blinked, monitors beeped, and the ship continued to rumble with the slam of boarding craft.

Havilick stared at the Star Penetration symbol. A gas giant surrounded by fangs and paws. She had given everything to defend it. Everything. . . .

“Cynthia?"

Jogoo pulled his face from her crotch, his head still wrapped in fuzzy white thighs, strands of saliva and grool still connecting his lips to hers. “I'm sorry."

Her tail swished against his chest. “Don't apologize."

“I was too proud! Too independent! It took this damn, filthy parasite for me to finally. . . ." He gazed at her sopping wet pussy. Love blossomed in his eyes. “I should've been here sooner. This is where I belong."

Her paw travelled down his head, cupping his cheek. “You're here now. That's what matters."

“I love you, Cynthia."

“Show me."

She pressed on his head, and he dove back toward her drooling snatch, abandoning any sense of restraint. As the rest of the bridge disappeared beneath a blanket of fluffy white, he became lost in sensation. Her fur was soft. Her loins were hot. She tasted like the last good thing he would ever know, and Jogoo lashed every inch that he could find, teasing out her pleasure, hoping to drink her in like a precious memory.

Above, Cynthia ripped open her fleet uniform, spraying buttons across the deck, exposing her firm breasts to the air. She began to knead a nipple, clamping his head with her thighs. When Jogoo sealed his mouth around her clit, sucking it in with a gentle pressure, she bucked against his face, loosing a howl to the cheap gray ceiling.

The ship rumbled. Alarms blared against each other, overlapping with emergency. Breach of atmosphere, uncontrolled fires, every escape pod beginning to launch. There came the pounding of filthy Gryeen boots, racing across the lower decks.

None of it mattered. Jogoo continued to eat out his love, and she sank into her command chair, whining at his ministrations, panting in delight as her pleasure began to rise.

The alarms grew louder. The Gryeens grew closer.

Slowly, half lost in ecstasy, Cynthia Havilick drew her proton pistol, setting the phasers to cum. She aimed her gun at the doorway, just as a chorus of cackles began to cut through the alarms.

Jogoo gripped her thigh. Havilick gripped his scalp. The Gryeens kicked at the door.

Her climax was almost at hand.

Jogoo gave her one last loving lick. The door exploded.

“Jogoo!" Havilick shouted, cumming and blasting.

“Cut!"

On the other side of the bridge, there were no forward facing windows, looking out upon the majestic beauty of space. Instead, there was a tangled forest of filmmaking equipment—cameras, lights, tripods, dollies, reflectors, folding chairs, boom mikes, long catering tables and rows of stagehands moving behind the wooden walls of the set. At the front of the soundstage, there was a short raccoon woman with unbrushed fur and a T-shirt that said: “Beans, Badgers, Battlestud Galacticum".

She was the director of the film.

“Cut!" Tammy shouted. “That's the scene! Great job, everyone!"

She began to clap. When she looked at the film crew behind her, some of them began to half-heartedly join her in applauding. The raccoon made her way across the dolly tracks and loose wires, attempting to climb onto the raised platform of the soundstage. With her short stature, and generous belly, it was a struggle.

Michael pulled his head out of his co-star's lap. The arctic wolf—real name Kaylee Winters—was lying back against the fake metal of the captain's chair, her sharp teeth exposed as she panted toward the ceiling. Her long, fluffy tail continued to wag against his chest.

“Good take, huh?" Michael said, wiping grool from his mouth.

Kaylee lowered her head toward him, blinking. It took her a moment to regain focus. “Your tongue is just—" She let out a breathy moan. “Fuck me, Manly."

“Call me Mike. And, thanks, I get a lot of practice."

She attempted to sit up. “Talk about science fiction, man. I just saw stars. Shit." She let out a whine. “You're gonna kill me."

Michael found himself smiling.

“Round of applause to our Gryeens!" Tammy said, finally managing to crawl onto the stage.

To stage left, Austin and Veronica stood in their alien uniforms, which was little more than some BDSM equipment that Tammy had borrowed from a producer. With their tight leather straps, and neon green fur, the two YEEN'D.com founders looked like they were either wearing Halloween costumes, or recent survivors of an acid attack.

“Gettin' in my fucking eyes, man," Austin said, angrily scrubbing the dried paint on her brow.

Tammy continued across the bridge, walking around the CIC monitors that were little more than strips of LED lights. “You guys nailed that one! I mean—wow!"

Michael began to stand. “I thought—"

“No, no, stay there!"

Michael paused. Tammy waved him down. Slowly, he fell back to his knees, glancing at Kaylee. The wolf closed her legs.

Tammy clapped a paw on his shoulder, leaning her weight against him as she struggled to squat. “Open up, Kaylee."

The wolf's ear folded back. Her thighs squeezed closer together. “Uh, ma'am. . . ."

“Just real quick. Some character notes, for the two of you."

“I'm not sure—"

“You just got slurped to Sunday, girl. Your tits are hanging out. There's no modesty here."

The wolf drew an arm against her breasts, glancing at the film crew working off-stage. Most were reviewing footage, changing light positions, adjusting some of the wooden supports behind the walls.

Tammy gave a couple quick whistles, like she was coaxing a dog down from a couch.

Kaylee glanced at Mike. After a twitch of her nose, she opened her legs again. Her crotch was dripping wet, the thick white fur sticking into clumps, her pink folds glistening beneath the stage lights.

“Major Manly," Tammy said, squeezing his shoulder. “You see this pussy?"

“. . . yes?"

“This is everything you've ever wanted."

“. . . okay?"

“Look," the raccoon said, rubbing her nose, “Jogoo is a fleet officer of the Star Penetration, right? He's spent his whole life being human. Laughed at, I mean. Discrimination. He's worked very hard to get where he is, and he didn't dive beneath any anthro's desk to do it." Tammy shook a fist. “Pride."

Michael tried not to look at Kaylee's crotch more than necessary. “Yeah, sure."

“But now he's got this parasite, right? Has to fuck someone or die."

“Oh, yeah. Tragic."

“So, now," Tammy said, gesturing at the wolf pussy, “he's conflicted. You know, he loves Captain Havilick, he wants to be her good little humie boy, but, even with the parasite forcing him on, that stubborn pride is gonna make it painful to get there."

Michael pretended to nod in agreement. Above, Kaylee nervously glanced between the two of them.

“You love this pussy with all your heart."

“Yeah. Definitely."

“But this pussy is also your breaking point."

“Right. Of course."

“This pussy is your oblivion. The abyss." She sniffed. “Like, gaze too long into the abyss, and the abyss is gonna clamp. Know what I mean?"

Michael gave an exaggerated stroke of his chin. It was sticky. “Ohhhhhh. Yeah, okay. I'm gettin' it."

Tammy sniffed again, wiping her nose. She'd been snorting lines of cocaine all morning. From the grimace on her face, the drip was still coming down her throat. “I got all that energy from you here, but, you know, when you get raped by the Gryeens, I really wanna see the difference between 'breaking for love' and 'breaking from cock'. It's critical to Jogoo's character arc."

Michael winced at the mention of rape. As part of the script, Austin and Veronica were going to wear strapons. Spitroast him on camera. “About that, actually—"

“Climax won't work without some hyena cock action. We've talked about this."

“Definitely. Yes. Um." He glanced at Kaylee, then the two yeens watching from the side. Austin and Veronica were looking concerned. “Lotta insight here. Um. If I may ask, though?"

“Sure," Tammy said, leaning a forearm against Kaylee's thigh. “Ask away."

“Well, my character's name is Iaini Jogoo."

“Uh-huh."

“Which means 'smooth cock' in Swahili."

Tammy nodded along.

“Right," Michael said. “And, you know, I'm not even African. At all. My family is Irish."

The raccoon waved a hand. “It sounds foreign. Diverse. Besides, most anthros won't know the difference. They don't care."

“Well, that's my point, actually." He glanced at Kaylee's pussy, blinked, lost his train of thought, and had to start again. “Uh, well, I'm kinda thinking that people aren't gonna really . . . care? About the acting? You know, it's fun to watch, but they're really gonna be here for the sex. I think we should just focus on that."

“Yeah," Kaylee said quickly, her white mane flexing as she nodded. “I agree. Nothing's gonna beat the book, anyway. It's a classic. This is just—you know—fun."

“No, it's not!" Tammy tried to stand back on her feet. It took several seconds of straining. Her brown-furred belly slipped out from under her shirt as she rose. “This isn't just some—some parody! We're making cinema! People'll come for the smut, but they'll stay for the plot!"

Michael and Kaylee glanced at each other.

“You'll see," Tammy said, wiping her nose. There were several rapid sniffs. “It's gonna come out in the edit. Big feature for both of you. I'm thinking we can get national syndication."

“Uh, ma'am?" Kaylee asked. “Can I close my legs now?"

“Oh, sure, sure. You were great, too, Kaylee. Love the pauses."

The wolf nodded, trying to cover her breasts.

Tammy strutted out to the front of the stage. “Come on, people, let's move! We need the escape pod by three, and the coliseum by eight!" She fumbled down to the concrete floor of the film studio, heading right for the stash of cocaine. “Time is money! I don't gotta tell you that!"

Austin and Veronica were still standing by the side. Once the raccoon had left the bridge set, they looked at Michael. He shrugged. Austin rolled her eyes, heading for the exit. Veronica gave him a playful smile and a wave of her fingers as she followed suit.

“Hey," Kaylee said.

The wolf was trying to sling her pants back into position. With her long tail, and thick tufts of fur, it was a difficult procedure.

“She's crazy, right?"

Michael snorted. “Little too much nose candy, I think."

Kaylee smiled, her ears perking up. “Good. Just had to check. Felt like I lost my mind for a second." When she stood up from her chair, the arctic wolf was nearly a foot taller than him. Her tail swished behind her. “You were . . . really good, by the way."

“My acting, or my tongue?"

She opened her muzzle. Nothing came out. Michael got the feeling that, beneath the fur, she was blushing.

“Hey," he said, clapping her arm. “You were good, too. We'll save her shitty movie, don't worry."

She nodded, opened her mouth again, blinked, and went for the exit. Michael followed behind, working out the last few hairs in his mouth.

---

“It's fucking bullshit, man."

Outside the studio, the day was hot and muggy. There were no clouds, no mercy from the early afternoon sun—just layers of smog collecting on the horizon, tinging the sky the same color as the concrete.

“Just once," Michael said, “you know, just once, I'd like to do something cool. Something other than shivering like a goddamn chihuahua whenever an anthro's onstage. Like, I don't even mind the mating press, really. Just give me a funny line, for fuck's sake."

Veronica took a drag on her cigarette, her usual smirk wreathed in smoke. “Don't worry, Mike. All your lines are funny."

“Fuck off, V."

She cracked a grin, blew smoke through her muzzle, and handed him the cig. Michael took an angry drag.

The studio lot for Smash Queen Productions was located in a faraway valley, where the heat of the day collected between hills of brown grass and spindly shrubs. Every studio looked the same—tall, flat-roofed, with white painted walls and all the personality of a warehouse. The only way to distinguish them was the large number on the side.

The Three Hotties Problem was being filmed in Studio 17. To their right, a golf cart backed into Studio 24, carrying a human with assless chaps and a shark with a whip. To their left, there was a truck full of folding chairs, rows of palm trees, and the echoing sound of moans from Studio 14.

At their feet, there was a growing pile of cigarette butts.

“Hey," Austin said, brushing the shaggy green hair from her eyes. “At least you're the right gender. I have a dick."

Michael shrugged. “That's normal, right?"

“Shut up."

“Hey, guys, fun fact. Did you know that female hyenas have a pseudo—"

“Shut up!" Austin leaned against the white studio walls, blocking the sun with her hand. “Look at my get-up, and tell me it isn't worse."

The two hyenas were barely clothed. Aside from a bra, and a lacy set of panties, their evil Gryeen uniforms consisted of leather straps, belt buckles, and strategically placed spikes. The wardrobe department had barely done anything to change the BDSM equipment. If the two of them weren't painted green, they could've walked into any studio on the lot and not looked terribly out of place.

“You know," Austin said, “at least you get lines. I'm just a henchman."

“Look on the bright side," Michael said. “You get to rape me."

“I rape you all the time!" She shook her head. “I mean, come on, we get parts in an actual porno feature, and V's the one who gets to play the villain."

Veronica fluffed the fur on her neck. It was sticky with paint. “I am the only trained actor among us."

Austin rolled her eyes, waving away the smoke from Michael's cigarette.

“Darling," Veronica said. “Only a soul born for theater could possibly handle a starring role."

“You work at Costco, bitch."

Veronica gave a dramatic scoff.

“Whatever," Austin said, scratching the green paint on her chin. “I'm sick of hearin' 'Jogoo this' and 'Norma Scock' that. Let's just hit our marks, get our pay, and take some long showers." She adjusted one of the leather straps pinching on her thigh, growling. “Gonna take days to wash this out."

Michael rested his head against the studio, letting the sun warm his brow. “How're the new videos doing?"

“Good," Veronica said. “Wonderful. Lot of engagement on the maid roleplay."

“I bet Daisy's happy to hear that."

“She's already writing the sequel."

Michael groaned. Austin snickered.

“Nine percent increase in subscribers," Veronica said, tapping ash from her cig. “Daily traffic up twenty six. Summer's been talking about ads on the site, licensing some of the popular vids."

Austin flicked a thumb back at Studio 17. “I've been chattin' up a prop guy here who's got a line on some bargain sale equipment we could buy. Lenses, mics, props. Good prices. We scrounge up more cash, and we could finally own our cameras."

“Hey, alright," Michael said. “YEEN'D.com is taking off."

After the first porno shoot of his life, Michael had spent a couple days paying off the worst of his bills. Then, once his bruises were healed, he had promptly returned to Summer's house for the next series of shoots. The four founding members of YEEN'D.com were happy to have him back, and they continued to pay him generously.

There had been many videos. Scentplay, facesitting, gangbangs, Amazon press. For Michael, it was all a blur of cameras and bruises. For the early subscribers of YEEN'D.com, it was a biblical flood of content. Everyone was happy.

Soon, the yeens had made him an offer—a financial stake in the business. Major Manly was becoming popular, showing demographic appeal across anthros and humans alike, and they were looking to set up a more permanent arrangement. No more contracts, no more pay as you go. They were talking stocks, profit shares. Serious commitment.

Michael didn't have to think hard about it. His porno shoots were the only thing keeping him from homelessness. Getting facefucked on camera let him eat something other than rice and beans. And, well, he'd long ago admitted to himself that he liked being a chew toy. He did it for the fun as much as the money . . . although the money was nice.

Now, Michael worked behind the camera just as often as the front. He'd helped Daisy write the scripts, acted as photography director with Austin, assisted Summer with some backend coding for the website.

All of this had lead him, Austin, and Veronica to the film set of The Three Hotties Problem. They needed more cash to pay the business expenses. They needed experience on a real, proper film set. Most importantly, they needed to do some networking. The director of the film, Tammy, may have been an eccentric cokehead, but she knew quite a few people in the industry. This was their opportunity to schmooze.

So what if Tammy thought she was making a pornographic masterpiece? So what if the costumes were awful and the dialogue was as wooden as the set? They were getting paid, and they were getting exposure. That was worth some bullshit.

Of course, soon, Michael would get pegged on camera. Was that going to be worth it?

He shuddered.

“Say, Mike," Veronica said, grin widening. “You should read some of the comments, sometimes. People have suggestions."

“Yeah, I'll pass, thanks."

Austin gave him a punch on the shoulder. “Nah, it's cute. About a halfway split between 'I'd fuck his dick off' and 'come here, baby, I'd treat you so right'."

Michael took a deep drag on his cig. He had only started smoking recently—mostly, it had been an attempt to stave off hunger pangs. Now, he was addicted as anyone else.

Austin and Veronica glanced at each other. Their body language changed.

“What?" Michael asked.

Austin opened her paws. “Nothin', uh. . . ." She glanced at Veronica again. “I mean, how're you doing, Mike?"

“. . . how am I doing?"

“Yeah. You know. How's things?"

He stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. “One shitshow to the next. Same as always." He rubbed beneath his eyes, feeling the bags in his skin. “I got rent covered for now, and I can go another month before they shut off the water, but, you know, my car just shit the bed outta nowhere, and it's gonna be a couple grand to fix. And then there's the phone bill, insurance, groceries. . . ."

“How'd you get here?" Veronica asked.

“Took the bus."

“Dude," Austin said, “we can give you a ride."

He waved a hand. “I'm fine. You get good at poverty, you know? I'm used to it."

The two hyenas glanced at each other.

“What?" Michael said, annoyed.

Austin cleared her throat. “Hey, if you need some money, or—like—a place to crash, we can . . . help you out. It's not a big deal."

Veronica nodded. “What are friends for?"

“Just ask, dude," Austin said. “Come on."

“I don't. . . ." Michael paused, choosing his words. The sun was very hot on his face. “I don't want charity, alright? I just . . . really hate the way you guys are looking at me right now."

They shuffled on their feet, glancing away.

“Look," he said. “We still got the shoot on Saturday, right? Summer's tea-time ass eating? Let's do that. You know? I don't need a fuckin' pity party, man, I just need to earn some money, so I can dig my way outta this—"

The door to the studio opened. Kaylee walked outside.

The arctic wolf blinked in the heavy sunshine. The Three Hotties Problem had been shooting for several days, and, in that time, Michael had never seen her leave the air-conditioned shelter of the studio. He didn't blame her. Her costume was a set of navy officer's blues—bought at discount from a thrift store—and she had more white fur than a shag carpet. With the current heat wave, going outside must've been excruciating for her.

He wondered why an anthro designed to live in freezing temperatures would want to live around here.

She saw the three of them standing by the corner. Her amber eyes locked on to Michael. There was a moment of hesitation.

“'Sup?" Austin said, flicking her head.

Kaylee made her way over to the three, her tail swishing against the side of the studio. “H-hey, uh. . . ." She gestured. “You like standing here? In the sun?"

“We like standing away from the director," Veronica said, taking a drag off her cig.

“Some peace and quiet, right?" Michael said. “Otherwise, it's gonna be 'but why does your character enjoy having her pussy eaten? Where's the drama?'"

“And dicks," Austin said, adjusting the leather straps on her hip. “Gotta put dicks on the chicks."

Kaylee gave a soft snort. “Hey, now, you gotta challenge the heteronormative assumptions of the audience. It's an existential penis, really. I mean, how else are you gonna make some . . . hard hitting cinema."

The yeens snorted. Kaylee drew close to Veronica and Michael, smiling down at the human.

“Hey," she said. “Maybe she'll let Officer Djimon save the crew from atmosphere drag."

Michael blinked. “What?"

“Djimon." Kaylee hesitated. “Your character. In the books. After escaping the Gryons, their shuttle loses power while orbiting a lava world, and Djimon manages to jury-rig enough thrust to save them from scraping atmosphere."

For a moment, the only sound was a golf cart driving by, carrying a rainbow grassland of dildos.

“There's a book?" Austin asked.

Kaylee's ears began to twitch. “Yeah. You guys . . . didn't read the book?"

Michael and Austin glanced at each other, snorting.

“I read the summary on Wikipedia," Veronica said, fluffing her neck hair.

“You should read the books! They're really good!" Kaylee's entire body language seemed to perk up. “Classic space opera. You know, Tammy's just butchering the plot for sex puns, but the original is super intricate! Tons of worldbuilding!" She looked down at Michael. “Djimon and Havelock's relationship is also very sweet . . . in the books."

“Really?" Michael asked.

“Yeah. Sweet and tragic. Havelock's committed to her duty, and Djimon's traumatized after being a slave of the Gryons, but they really care for each other, even though they can't be vulnerable. Do you mind if I spoil it?"

He gave a shrug.

“They don't end up together," Kaylee said. “Neither can change who they are. But one of the later books has them marooned on a planet together, and they end up consummating their relationship, just the two of them, pretending they can both be different people." The wolf scratched her chin. “I cried when they finally kissed. It's beautifully written."

Michael nodded. Austin and Veronica shuffled on their feet.

Kaylee fidgeted. “Sorry. Didn't mean to nerd out. Just, uh . . . I dunno. They're really good."

“No, no," Michael said. “It's cool. I used to read a lot when I was a kid, but, you know, I just don't have the time anymore. Maybe I'll get a library card. Check it out."

At the studio entrance, Tammy poked her raccoon snout into the sunlight, gazing over at the four actors. “Where are my Gryeens? Call for makeup!"

Austin and Veronica flicked their ears, suppressed a sigh, and made their way into the building. Tammy continued to stare at Michael and Kaylee.

“Be ready in five," the short raccoon said, holding out the five claws on her hand. With her other hand, she pressed a finger to her nostril and snorted a wad of something white onto the hot concrete. “Gotta rig the wires, fluff the talent, etcetera."

“Sure thing, boss," Michael said.

Tammy gave him a wink and disappeared back into the studio. Her loogie of snot and cocaine continued to congeal in the sunlight.

Kaylee winced up at the sky. She was beginning to pant through her open muzzle, and her tufts of white fur were shining as bright as the clouds.

“You alright?" Michael asked. “I mean, outside?"

She shook her head, shading her eyes. “I use a lot of air conditioners. It's never enough."

“. . . you want to go back in?"

She shook her head again. It was more intense. “I need some fresh air. Being inside is . . . driving me crazy."

Michael nodded. He took one last drag on his cigarette, blew the smoke away from her, and ground the butt under foot. “Are you from here? I mean, I can't imagine an arctic predator growing up in the desert."

“I'm . . . from the Midwest." She made eye contact, trying to focus through the heat. “You're gonna laugh at me."

“Oh, what, you came out here to be a big movie star?"

“Bingo."

Michael gave a polite laugh.

“Told you," Kaylee said. “Everyone thinks they're the exception. Thought I was gonna be headlining feature films in five years, tops." She glanced around the studio lot. “Now I'm shooting smut just to make rent."

“Nothing wrong with that," Michael said. “It's why I'm here. You think I wanted to be a dildo when I grew up?"

“Yeah, but, how long are you gonna keep doing it for the money? When's your career gonna start?"

Michael blinked.

“Sorry," Kaylee said. “Don't mean to be all doom and gloom, but it's just. . . ." She started fanning her paw into her face. “I was the little girl who'd always reenact my favorite movies. I was the drama geek who got a bit part in a commercial. You know, coming out here was supposed to be me chasing the dream. Instead, I just got shitty weather and a whole fucking lot of 'oh, don't call us, we'll call you'."

Michael opened his mouth. A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek.

“Sorry," Kaylee said, fidgeting. “I'm being weird. Sorry. Uh, you want to do some rehearsal?"

Micheal reached out and touched her furry elbow. Her tail gave a violent swish.

“It's fine," he said. “Really. I get it. I wanted to be an architect. Course, I sucked at math, had to drop out to work full-time, and now everything's so expensive that I gotta do this shit to make ends meet." He let go of her arm. “This is just the place where people wash up, I guess. It's not your fault, or mine. It's just . . . how things are. You know?"

She nodded. Her expression did not match the movement. “Yeah. I don't know."

“For what it's worth," Michael said, “you're really outclassing the rest of us. Best actress on the set."

“Oh, cool," Kaylee said. “Best pornstar on the lot. Like the best monkey at the zoo."

“You know, when you say 'your cock is huge, Jogoo!', I really believe you."

The wolf snorted.

Michael began to gesture like a thespian. “The moans are exquisite. Magnifique. And let's not forget your dramatic. . . ."

“Shut up."

“Pause!"

Kaylee smiled. Her ears were still twitching, and her panting had grown from quiet to labored, but the actress managed to give him a real, honest smile.

Michael opened his palms. “Like I said, we'll get through her shitty movie together. Promise."

“Thanks. Really." She looked down at the hot concrete. “Get in my own head sometimes."

“You ready for the next scene?"

She glanced back at the studio. Michael noticed that her eyes lingered on the loogie that Tammy had snorted on the ground. It was thick and white. Kaylee began to whine.

“I'll do my best."