FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Written by fugi88, commissions open

If you like stories like this, feel free to donate what little you can to paypal.me/fugi88 - It helps a lot!

---

Part 4 of Alexnder's Accounts, continuing from tension with the head cook

And yet again i woke up in Artemis's arms.

It was amazing to finally be able to sleep with werewolves. My fantasies i had had for too long were finally coming true. I had a werewolf partner to lie with, a werewolf partner to sit with.

But of course, as in any story, the world was collapsing around me as we fell into each other's arms. It's why i sit down to write this story, to help me wrap my head around what a crazy time this was.

So, a growing gang hellbent on killing me and all the members of my species, a government which actively supports their cause and what else…? Yeah… there's so much for me to handle.

Oh and of course, Artemis is homeless, my employer seems to have beef with him (and not in the way i usually do), and he'll need to begin supporting himself.

I want to lie here, on his bicep, and pretend everything is ok. I want to lie here, hearing his gentle breaths, feeling his other arm move across the upper half of my body as his ribs expanded and contracted.

Nothing could go wrong here, nothing could spoil this. The larder had been locked from within, i was protected by this massive gentleman, and we both were reliant on the other for our sexual interests.

Sure, a lack of water or food might lead to our demise, but here, at least for a few hours, i'm perfectly safe.

I tuned into his breaths and calibrated mine to them. He breathed slowly, being bigger, but i managed to somehow keep to it.

He was amazing. Well, until i heard desperate knocking against the door. It was only 08:56, it seemed, so the head chef had to be the one doing the waking us up.

I let out an angry little sigh. I gently moved Artemis's arm away and tried, really tried, to get out of bed without interrupting his sleep.

“What's happening?" asked the disoriented gentleman.

“Head chef wants in."

“Ugh."

I put my feet on the cold floor and stepped, in one stride, to the door.

I begrudgingly unlocked the door and looked at the face there.

“You've got a big batch to cook."

I blinked several times to try to wake myself. “You interrupted my sleep."

“You better be glad i'm not kicking out your partner, too."

Ugh. That's not very helpful. Eh. “What is it you want me to make?"

“Decorated rice crackers."

I hated those with a passion nowadays. They were always so fickle with the dye and a single twitch of the hand would destroy the whole work.

“I'll be kind and give your partner one free passage through the kitchen", said the head chef. “One-way, out to the street."

“That's a bit mean."

“Wait until you see the hair people have been complaining about. He's the only one with that specific colour and width", he said. “More protests and you're not welcome here."

I forgot werewolves had the intrinsic ability to be able to deduce such things about hair. It was as identifiable to them as a detached human hand might be to humans. With some deduction and comparison, it becomes incredibly easy to figure out who's hair it is.

I didn't quite have that ability. The strands were too thin for me to tell anything but simple monochromatic data from, with the thickness being an entirely lost cause for me.

But the head chef was right. Every now and then, i'd see the occasional strand drift in the air as it detached itself from Artemis. It was always pretty to see. A setting sun would illuminate him in an elegant yellow glow and i'd watch as a passing draft "plucked" a barely-connected strand from his body.

It'd drift in the sunbeam, perfectly happy to be itself, perfectly happy to simply exist. Well, until a passing person would send the hair plummeting in a plume of turbulence.

Hair tends to work its way into the most abandoned corners, save for in kitchens, where it seems to universally work its way into food.

I got to work on the rice cakes. For the amount of work to make them, pay was abysmal. I would have tolerated it earlier, but after Artemis's little rant on workers rights, every abuse of them would feel like i was dying.

The head cook, bored, was watching me from halfway across the room. He was careful to let me focus, but should i request my 15 minutes after an hour of work, he'd simply dismiss me. I was “making excuses"

He threatened to dismiss me from this job, too. He said that if i "complained" (read: brought up worker's rights and the fact they apply to me despite my being a human) he could do it with the snap of his fingers.

He said he felt tempted to burn down my blast-therm shelter, make it an autoclave sterile of me, protect himself from any hintlet of my influence. He said he didn't care if Artemis was sleeping there. He said werewolf hair makes very good fire accelerant and Artemis would do well to burn anyways. A kink being common, after all, didn't necessarily indicate it wasn't seen as taboo. Werewolf-human kinks, however common, were seen as a perversion of the “true way" in the south and "mostly ok" in the north.

And, as always, werewolf-human kinks were more common among homosexual people. At least, that's what i generally saw. Here, 90% of the werewolf-human books featured a same-sex pairing, and the porn i saw at home, on earth, was dominated by homosexual scenes.

That's what kept me happy, to know i wasn't quite unique, that there were a whole series of artists i had shared molecules with at one point or another, artists who had the same kinks as i, artists who felt them so deeply they expressed themselves.

My thoughts do tend to drift, i realised. Only fair when i have such menial work.

I'm such an asshole. I drove Artemis into being homeless and i was on the way out, too! That's why i felt such a strong pang of guilt as i watched him leave and get rushed out of the kitchen, into the dining area.

I ended my cooking after several hours and went out into the dining area.

“I'm sorry", i said.

Were those seriously my first words to him this morning? I knew what i was sorry for but i knew he'd find a way to go against what i said, find a way to remove responsibility from me.

Should i fall for his tricks? Would it be healthy to? A dark pull inside said “oh, it'd be fun to hate yourself" and “maybe this is more accurate!". I wanted to listen to it. I didn't want to listen to it.

Why not try both?

“You don't need to be", he said.

“Well, you're homeless because of me… and then you're now kicked out of what you thought was home, and now i'm being kicked out for being so arrogant to assume you'd get to live here."

“I don't see where you come in here", he said. “Like, i chose to go homeless. The head chef chose to have a grudge on you for me having been here with my own intentions."

“I should have got you at least some kind of overalls and coverings to prevent the hair, but i didn't."

“That's ok… i should have got them myself to protect myself", he said. “It's my fault. Don't take it away from me."

He narrowed his eyes in a playfully angry, possesive glare.

“It's my fault", i said, half-serious. “It's my fault our lives are going this direction."

“Let's split the blame", he decided with a playfully authoritative tone. “I take the blame for us being homeless, you the blame for the true vigilantes because of those thugs you crippled."

“They're connected?! Wait, how did you know them?!"

“Thugs here need a structure or the government will destroy them, so they turn to the gangs. Quite easy to connect them to the main gang in these parts. You saw them in the news, right?"

“Yes", i said, grimacing at how he managed to derive such things.

“The only way they got there so fast is through the gang, who were bribing the papers. And the gang loves a catalyst", he explains. “What better then the crippling of one of the few teams to prove the humans cause serious damage?"

Fuck. I guess i'd have to do the mature thing and take the blame for this little uprising. I shouldn't have been so violent against the three. I had back-lobotomised a werewolf and cursed them to a life in a wheelchair. Where was my humanity?

“Don't kick yourself. If it wasn't you, it'd have been someone else", he said. “And they'd be out for human blood either way."

“So that leaves the question… how do we get me a new job if this shit goes south?"

“Maybe you could use me as a flesh shield", he said. “They generally prefer to kill humans and leave werewolves alone. Half for legal reasons, other half for ideological."

I shifted my weight at that statement. “I don't like the 'generally'. I like you and i don't want you damaged"

“Yeah, it's a shitty idea."

“I guess you should just get a job and we'll see if i can find a place."

“Yeah"

We sighed and looked out of the window.

"I'll figure it out", said Artemis.

We continued looking out onto the street, at how the sun illuminated the hairs drifting about in the street. The sun wasn't low and they were barely visible, but if one looked correctly, they were mostly perceivable.

“Sorry you two lovebirds but the dining area is only for clients", interrupted the head cook who'd just walked here. “I suggest the hairy guy leaves."

“We are clients", protested Artemis.

The head cook glared at him. “I'm tired at your games."

A wicked smile hit him. Something snapped in his head."Either you leave or you'll be stabbed. You have until i come back from the kitchen."

“Bit extreme, isn't it?", i protested. “You do realise murder is illegal…, don't you?"

“I meant plural you. I'll start with the hairy guy… you see, look how empty it is here, don't you see? I'll take my big knife and stab him square in the heart", he started. He put on a grim smile. Was it a joke? Probably. Was he being facetious? Probably. Was he saying he hated Artemis? Definitely. “And when he stops writhing i'll take the knife and squelch! There goes your heart, too!"

Artemis scoffed. “You're not being serious."

The head cook glared at him with some kind of faux anger. “I am being serious."

“Ok then, big guy", said Artemis. He glared at the head cook.

The cook's face wasn't a very nice one, after all. It had a scowl crossing it and his eyes didn't quite disagree with his lips.

“Get out or the human's fired."

“And where do i go?" asked Artemis.

“I don't give an actual fuck."

“You two calm down", i said. “Artemis will leave, i'll stay. Go get the knife, i dare you to use it."

A glare held a little longer before the head cook stormed in. He shouted so loud i could hear through the doors. After all, why not take your anger out on employees?

“Sorry about that", i said. “He does this sometimes."

“Hmm."

“Go out and peek through the window. You'll be able to break the glass if the knife touches my skin. I'll give the middle finger if i'm in danger, that's your sign."

We both know it told volumes we'd set the boundary at the knife touching skin. We both knew and had come to realise that my employer wasn't quite sane nor safe.

Artemis still duly stood up and left, to appear at the window some time later.

The middle finger didn't quite mean much in the werewolf world. It wasn't possible with werewolf hands, requiring fine, finger-level control. To understand how difficult it was, touch your left index finger's nail against the upwards side of your left wrist. Sure, it might be offensive for a hypothetical martian race to do such a gesture but in the human world it's entirely impossible, thus meaningless.

Same here. The head cook wouldn't understand such a human gesture

Damn, i'm stress-ranting again. Just understand that here, there is n-

Here comes the head cook, armed with his knife. As always, my sharpened chopsticks were sitting here in my pocket.

“Ah, there goes your little boyfriend", mocked the head cook, rotating the handle of the knife in his palm.

He had a sick little smile.

“He was soooo annoying", he said. “Well, all that suffering you put me through ends now."

“What suffering?"

He looked with a dirty look to his knife. He was probably having a mental conversation with it. “Having to pay you, having to manage you, having to house you, having to keep you alive."

I moved my fingers to my pocket, to glance onto the body-warm steel of my utensils. “Those are my basic human needs, though..:?"

“Ah, that's why i don't like you. Too needy."

“You were fine with me before."

“Well, not anymore." He mimed a stabbing motion with his knife. “So you have two choices."

I looked into his eyes. The morsel of sanity breathing within them was fading into a more demented look.

“You can go in your room and grab what you need and leave, or you can let me stab you."

He had begun looking serious now. As the realisation snuck into me, he let out a little smirk. The demention of his eyes betrayed any humor.

“So, i think you'll choose to go to your room… as if." The knife is spinning in his hand. “I won't make it easy."

I resisted the temptation to glance at Artemis. If he knew he was standing out there, we'd both be toast.

“Yes, i know you have your chopsticks. I'd like to see you try…!" He smiled wickedly as he stared at my face. I could feel the hallmarks of terror had found their place

I plucked out the sharpened one. It was time for my dirty talk. “You do realise this is where the paralysed thugs came from, right?"

“Don't remind me of them."

“Well, you do realise that the base of your back has exposed nerves, right?" I twirled the chopstick like an overlength pencil in my fingers. “I could cut them and you'd never walk again."

“Likewise do you. I'm strong enough to destroy your lumbar region. What type of wheelchair would you like?", he said spinning his knife such it came to point at me every few seconds.

“Well, one that could hold a werewolf, seeing as that's who's gong to occupy one", i witted.

Dangerous, but i love to be witty.

“I'll give you three seconds to run to your room and get your shit."

I sat up.

“3."

I shuffled to the aisle.

“2."

I stood and ran, like, ran to my room.

He gave chase with a vivid war cry. “1!"

I burst past the double doors and let them do their oscillation into the head cook's path. “Distract the head cook or i'll fucking die!" i screamed a the chefs in the kitchen. My burst and subsequent scream distracted a chef carrying an overloaded pot of boiling water. It made a small tidal wave as it flooded the kitchen.

“Fuck you!" screamed the werewolf encased in steam.

I took the opportunity to dive into my larder. I had the mind to lock the door behind me.

I looked for my chopstick. I panicked as i realised both had went missing. I must have dropped them.

Artemis's bag was sitting here. I tried lifting it. It was as heavy as a bag of coal. What the actual fuck was inside it?

I ripped open the bag's zippers and stared inside the bag. Clothes. Too many. Books, ok. Money, perfect!

I threw some of the clothes out of the bag. Artemis'd only need one change of clothes. I packed a few of my own, took my own money box, and grabbed a handful of my own books.

The bag was still almost intolerably heavy. Thing is, i could still lift it.

The clothes, though, i realised, would be best worn by me. If i took all the clothes and put them on, i might overheat, but we'd bring more stuff.

I put on the clothes, starting with mine. It was uncomfy and almost cramped. Artemis's clothes were baggy, but i liked how they smelt. They made it worth it, being basked in the musk of my favorite werewolf. The bag, too, given i was wearing so much, became lighter.

I went up to the door of the larder. I could hear the screaming in the kitchen.

“You wasted all our gas", screamed the head cook. “All that water for NOTHING!"

“Sorry, but it was the human who caused this!", screamed someone else.

“Shut the fuck up! I'm in no mood to think of humans!"

I unlocked the larder and ran for my life to the door. The water had become lukewarm now.

“It's him! Get him!"

I pushed past the doors into the main room. I almost slipped.

“Leave and never come back!" screamed the head cook.

I felt something heavy hit my calve. It was the cook's knife. I picked it up and ran wih it to the exist door. I needed something to defend myself.

“Hey! That was forged in Japan 60 years ago by a craftsman artisan and cost a literal fucking fortune!" screamed the head cook. “It's the only human thing i even tolerate nowdays."

I'm not dropping the knife. I'm not going to. It's not what i think is a good idea. It'd come in useful later.

“Artemis!" i screamed. “He wants blood, i think!"

He ran up to me. Artemis, i mean.

I threw the rucksack off me. “light" was a relative term. “Here's the bag. take it. It's heavy."

“It's light. You seriously wore all my clothes?! They're unwashed!"

“I know and i like it", i said.

“You're disgusting sometimes."

“At least i brought your clothes."

"Hey you, ugly!" shouted a foreign voice. I looked at the ugly face. They wore a red shirt with a red bar crossing a peach-coloured circle. An imitation of a human head, i guess. Written on it was “the true vigilantes."

“It's the gang", said Artemis.

“What do we do?" i asked.

He brought out his hand and pulled me closer to him. “Stay with me. They won't want to shoot werewolves."

I hushed my tone, as if to hide. “I have a… knife, if you want"

He saw the blade. “These are really expensive…! You stole it from the head cook?"

“Pull the human away or i'll shoot the both of you!", screamed the gang member.

“It's an empty threat." Artemis pulled me up to sit on his hands. “Let's run to my flat."

“You sold it!"

“We can squat there as they find a new resident"

And we began running, running far from the restaurant.

Stay tuned for part 5, in which we tackle yet more of the gang.

---

Some notes:

• Notes about personal prolems

• Given that the last two days have been defined by somewhat serious breakdowns both with and without a proper support structure, i request some understanding for if the NSFW version of part 9 fails to be published in the proximate future.

• I stopped being able to read so i began skimming halfway through, so the other half might be a bit more inelegant.

• I'm only publishing this early because i'm not even sure i'll have access to both the story text and the platforms i publish to later on today.

• Some notes on the actual story

• Ooh, i like making Artemis frame the story as something he's writing in the future. That helpfully explains why he's protected by plot armour; because without it he wouldn't write the story.

• As we know, the protagonist has crippled werewolves in the past and is now recieving deeply unsettling consequences. This is my solution to plot armour; they survive now but what will this bring for the future? Sure, they don't die but we all know they can handle a night out on the streets freezing. That's my preferred method. Plot armour defends against death but little else. Well, depends, i guess.

• The “i shared molecules with" is very much true. With how many molecules we breathe in and out, at least three (which is TINY in proportion but i'm a creative person so i find meaning where there is none :p) were in Julius Cesar's last breath.

• It's kind of trippy to think the breath i'm holding as i write this sentence contains molecules that have been in you, probably, and will probably eventually be back in you.

• Ok, the head cook was influenced by Bonesaw from Worm a little. A more grown-up serious version, maybe Jack, i guess.

• The head cook is a psycho and very much homohumanophobic (as in homosexual-phobic but for human-werewolf relationships, purposefully too many syllables long). He goes through stages of extreme anger and angst to stages of normalcy.

• This is the second time i've made a psycho manager in my werewolf workplaces…!

• Yes, the sentence “If he knew he was standing out there, we'd both be toast." is pronoun hell and about as clear as wood, but i like it because it mostly makes sense in context. But if you want to know, the first he refers to the head cook, the second to Artemis, and “we" refers to Artemis and Alexander

---