Furry High (furry 'coming of age' story) R18+

11

Skim laughed from his spot on the ground, clenching his fists in triumph.

Another one down.
A whole cartel to go.

2 years before a certain test-tube shattered chaos above a certain Doberman's head.

I sighed softly, shaking my head in defeat.

"Exactly."
Adrian muttered with a slow shake of his head before he stood up and walked off to take a piss.

We had been having an argument about what we should do next. I wanted to get done whatever had to get some as soon as possible, so maybe – just maybe – I'd be able to fucking sleep calmly for the next few nights.
However, Adrian's idea was to leave it to the last minute, scoping for a while from the outside so that we'd be able to sweep in for the perfect opportunity when the time came for it.
A party, where some students get a little 'loose' with what they're bringing.
A couple of close friends of Adrian trying to lend him a favour.
Even a dodgy alleyway with some adults in the middle of the night would be preferable to just sitting around scared for the next week.

I was raising some good points in opposition, too. But I have a stutter. So you can imagine who turned out as the winner.

But as Adrian walked away, his head down and avoidant, his headphones locked into his ears, drowning out the world around him; I could tell that he certainly didn't feel like a victor.
There was no winning when you're in debt.

The sheepdog turned around, avoiding eye-contact. His feet shuffled a half-assed box-step and his ears were loose and hanging.
"Anyways." He shrugged. "I might be able to buy the same amount off of my dealer."

I opened my mouth but almost instantly clamped it shut. It made sense for him having a dealer, given his... nature.
"So... what nuh, n-now?" I finally said.

He conjured to motivation to establish eye-contact, but then I found myself staring at the ground as he was before.
"Yeah, I'm still trying to figure that out Southy."

The nickname had lost its sting. It didn't feel like he had even said it with the intention of pissing me off. It was just thrown out there. A loose word trying to lighten the stale mood between us.

He rubbed his muzzle – it wasn't even midday and both of us were yawning and blinking sleep from our eyes like our lives depended on it.
"You got any ideas?"

"Ehh... nope. I'm t-to cooked to thuh, th-think right now."

He slumped down beside me.
"Yeah, I get ya."

"..."

"Fuck... anything, mate? Anything at all?"

"The only idea on m-my mind it getting the f-fuh-fuck outta this place. I'm buh, b-beginning to smell enough of the food to t-taste it."

He had a nice laugh, good and throaty. Just hearing it was contagious enough for me to smile as well.
"That's probably not a bad idea."

The air outside was warm and moist. Like breathing in a sea breeze on a scorching day. But not a shred of sunlight was in sight. The road was dark and the trees surrounding the service station were blown in a warm breeze, thick brown and red leaves clattering against each other in anticipation.
A storm was coming, a good one. A real pisser-downer.
We could both feel it.

Adrian stared up at the sky from the pavement beside me.
There was so something so calm about those dark clouds. As if they were tucking us away from the world. As if as long as they were there, I was invincible. Cut off from any civilization at the thick rain and flooding roads made it impossible for furs to reach me.
Alone.
Alone with my rapist.