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Sadly Simon just has 'all' the luck.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Even simpy little paysubs have to do errands sometimes. Sadly Simon just has 'all' the luck.", "writing": "Leashed Chapter 4: Errands\nBy TerraMGP\n\n\tTuesday was a slog. In a way, in the deep, dark, philosophical parts of Simon’s brain. Life was a Tuesday.\n\n\tNot everyone was meant to do great things. That was a realization Simon had come to some time in middle school. Oh sure, everyone had aspirations of greatness in their youth. Ask any kid on the playground what they want to be and you’d get answers ranging from sports star to streamer to billionaire. It was the expectation that ‘you’ were the main protagonist. This idea that being exceptional was in fact not exceptional. \n\n\tBy the time he hit seventh grade, Simon Miller realized how solipsistic that all was. Not to mention exhausting. \n\n\tNow here he was nearly a decade later. Your typical ‘smart but unremarkable’ worker bee in a society that had become nothing but profit generating mechanisms. He had become a cog in such a machine, and in doing so was able to comfortably go limp rather than being broken by those silly demands and expectations. He had a career in a stable field. He had a pet, hobbies, interests. He didn’t exactly have friends, but really those would just fill the same slot as any other hobby, right?\n\n\tIf the goal was to get the dopamine flowing, he knew how to do that easily. He had a dedicated hard drive for that. He had set up his TV to stream from his computer just for that. He’d bought a small array of sex toys and a high end set of Bluetooth earphones for that. Best of all, he had a goddess who could give him tasks and shape him into something sexually pleasing to her. Someone willing to take his silly offerings in exchange for treating the pathetic little chipmunk loser the way he deserved. Someone kind enough to put in the actual time and effort to figure out how best to make him worse.\n\n\tThrow all of that together and life really wasn’t so bad. He’d be perfectly content to simply let this uneventful cycle of weeks consume him forever. Except, as they say, nothing is forever.\n\n\tThe Cube had served him well. In spite of what he’d told Justin, it was a bit sad to see it go. Sure it was apparently a horrible car. Bad enough that half its shit had broken on him all at once, in a way that basically rendered it scrap. By now the Cube had probably been parted out. Or maybe turned into another, smaller cube. Whatever they did at junk yards.\n\n\tIn a few hours, he’d be able to forget all of that. He’d be home and basking in a sea of sensory input. A little blush came to his cheeks as he thought about the thumb drive Mistress Justine gave to him. She said it was something she’d cooked up to help him. \n\n\t“Hey Miller, is it Miller time yet?”\n\n\t“You know I don’t drink, Dave.” Simon sighed. He looked up at his manager. The overly friendly feline with little to no sense of personal space or decorum. The man leaned in to the cube wall with his cup of coffee and headfur slicked back to cover a balding spot. Simon always imagined Dave to be some horrific mashup of Patrick Bateman and the manager from ‘office space’. Far more the latter in terms of income and power. Though if he had some poor hooker chopped up in his fridge Simon wasn’t sure he’d be shocked.\n\n\tDave shrugged and leaned over on the desk, looking at the spreadsheet Simon was working on. There was no way the man could have context for it. The totals were all at the bottom and as usual he wasn’t asking Simon to show him that. Or really anything. He was looking busy, and feeling important. As was his wont. As was the choice of many managers, it would seem.\n\n\t“Just a few more months though, yeah? Big 21? You know if you really wanted to go out with us we still need a designated driver. I’d be happy to foot your food bill, too. Pretty sweet deal, right?”\n\n\tSimon smiled his best fake, corporate smile and shook his head. “Nah that’s ok. I actually have to do some errands today.” An excuse, but not a lie. “I appreciate the offer. But you know how it is. I put things off now and soon everything piles up.”\n\n\t“Right! That’s what happened to your car, wasn’t it?” The black furred feline squinted a bit more at the computer screen then stood and shook his head. “Gotta be careful about that, kiddo. If you don’t pay attention to those gauges it’ll end up biting you.”\n\n\tIt would have been so easy to correct him. Even for someone as passive and meek as Simon the urge was there to say something. He hadn’t fucked up that badly. It wasn’t his fault the car had some freak cascade failure. Even Justin had said so! \n\n\tAnd yet while Justin’s admonitions had made him feel guilty, Dave once again just made him feel tired. Simon waved a paw and nodded dismissively. “Yeah” he sighed “I’ll try to do better next time.”\n\n\t“You got this, kid.” Dave nodded “Just remember to have that in the cloud by workday’s end. Can’t really afford to give you guys overtime right now. Upper brass wants to save that for the big boys.”\n\n\tJust like that the overly friendly feline had fled. Simon looked at where the mans paw had been. The space on his desk now felt like it had some thick, aetherial layer of sleaze permeating the plastic and particle board. The kind of spot Lady Macbeth would have lamented. Only smarm instead of blood.\n\n\tThese were the perils of office work, though. Ultimately it was worlds better than the fast food hell he’d done at the tail end of high school. All he had to do was go limp and wait until he got home.\n\n--------------------\n\n\tIt was Wednesday, my dudes. That line always bounced in Simon’s brain on a Wednesday. For him it was a day to prepare as much as anything. That was especially true today\n\n\tIn a perfect world Simon would be Mistress’ paypig. Sure the term was a bit bigoted. So was ‘trap’. He’d be that too, though.\n\n\tThe idea of being put to work to the point of exhaustion just to give it all away to some gorgeous gothy goddess who couldn’t really care less about him was insanely hot. Even hotter when he thought about the idea that she might never even let him cum again. It was the stuff of fucked up porn any sane and submissive young man should want to see made real! Right up there with sissy makeout sessions and blackmail threats.\n\n\tThis was not a perfect world. She had other clients, and he still had to live a ‘normal’ life six days of the week. Throwing it all away just to be a porn pet wasn’t the rational thing to do no matter how hot it was. Plus it wasn’t even what Mistress Justine wanted. After all, he knew now she didn’t live like that outside of sessions. No, he knew that even before then. He’d seen it before. An admittedly hot show not long ago with Justin and his actual partners.\n\n\tAll Simon could really do was enjoy what service he was allowed to give. Even if it meant braving the bowls of the dreaded J.C. Penny.\n\n\tThese stories held a kind of memory to them. He’d been going to this one his whole life, but even when dragged to another one by grandparents or when out on vacation and needing some kind of clothing Simon could recall how similar they all felt. Everything from the twin escalators to the odd shade of yellow. The tile and racks of clothing. It didn’t so much feel like individual stores. Rather, every Penny’s felt like it was carved off from some larger reality and you simply entered a portal into it. He stepped in from the cold and imagined the sea of homogenous carpet and walls going on for miles in the distance. Fading in to a point because whatever plane they existed on now was in fact flat, as opposed to the way some crazy people thought the world worked. It was the stuff of liminal nightmares. If he were an artist or a writer, and twenty other people hadn’t done the same thing to death by now, he might have actually taken a crack at making that into a comic or something.\n\n\tHe focused on the odd feeling of hard tile under him. Polished concrete or granite or whatever it was. The odd sensation which transitioned under his chucks to the slightly softer pad of carpeting any time he dared dip from the trail. He was wandering in some unnatural forest looking over bushes and trees which sprouted slacks and jeans rather than anything natural.\n\n\tEventually he reached his destination. Sweaters. A veritable cornucopia of sweaters. Most of them in styles he didn’t recognize or colors he found utterly repellant. Sweaters that buttoned up. Sweaters that seemed to be knitted with god awful bumpy textures. Short sleeve sweaters and sweaters with embossed flower patterns.\n\n\tAs a straight man, Simon had eyed a girl or two in his time. Not once could he ever recall seeing a girl in anything like this. None of these sweaters looked like things people would actually buy. It was the result of some alien intellect looking in on furkind and then sprouting these sweaters based on a vague understanding of what a person ‘would’ wear. Mimicked form without a true understanding of aesthetics.\n\n\tAnd then he saw it, and he paused.\n\n\tIt was too big. Even for what he intended it was too big. At some point Simon had apparently drifted far enough that he was close to the ‘big and tall’ area for the women’s section. He’d checked his own size before coming so he knew even if he a woman it would be too big on him. But that was perfect. The soft blue of it. The feel of the simple knit fabric. The tight turtleneck that would easily be bunched up and stretched out with a bit of work. \n\n\tSimon closed his eyes and smiled. So much of his life he’d lived with the hell of people teasing him for his name. Abusing him because his parents for whatever reason that kids would magically decide to stop being cruel when it came to him. \n\n\tJeanette.\n\n\tFor most of his sessions with Mistress Justine the whole thing had felt off somehow. Not bad. Obviously nothing he could endure from her was bad. But he was never quite sure what kind of ‘girl’ his pay-dommie had been seeking to make him. Simone just felt like a cheap and easy nickname to give when someone didn’t want to put any effort in. a rule 63 variant which happened to sound like a hooker stereotype. Now, though, he had a target to aim for. He could feel his constantly aching manhood twitch a bit in his underwear. She had to know how degrading it was to pick that name. Refusing to let him escape the shame of his younger years. Second-hand sexualizing all of that built up trauma by showing him that he’d only ever be some parody, some mockery, some living punch line. His flat little ass squeezed at the idea of it. He suddenly felt very shy, very timid, and very scared. All in the best ways possible.\n\n\tTonight he’d start toying with those audio files his Mistress had given him. He’d listen to them in place of his normal sissy hypno while watching those videos. He’d find out the first few facts of just who ‘Jeanette’ was supposed to be. And he’d do it wearing this cute blue sweater. With a purple skirt if he could find it, and nice simple innocent panties. He wasn’t ready to debut her. Not yet. Probably not until next week at least. But he ‘was’ putting in the work if nothing else.\n\n\tGod, if only his hair were a bit longer.\n\n--------------------\n\n\tFriday’s were the worst.\n\n\tSimon was well aware this was a minority opinion. A situational one at that. For everyone else Friday meant the end of the work day. It meant getting to relax at home and try to brush off the fact that they’d wasted up to half of the total day and over half of the waking day getting ready for, getting to and getting home from work.\n\n\tFriday was supposed to be the day he would unwind. Instead it was the day he did all the errands that were impossible during the week. For Simon it was the longest day from his most important one. Moreover it was the day when he generally penciled in shopping and errands. That part was more on him, though. Truth be told he just didn’t like going out on weekends and some things were easier to do without relying on a Shipt delivery from Meijer. Sure it was a bit irresponsible to pay for grocery delivery on an intern’s job. But fuck it, two hours of his paycheck for the fee and tip to save him two hours worth of shopping and checkout? Seemed like a fair enough deal in his eyes.\n\n\tToday’s errand was different. He looked up from the dash of his newly purchased old VW Golf and up to the strip mall before him. The store he had his eyes on was plastered with signs and posters. Advertisements about events sat beside faded pictures of Pokemon and guys in big sci-fi armor he occasionally saw when Steam tried to push some game on him. Geeky acculturation at its finest. He cast his eyes to the passengers seat. A cheap old orange school binder and plastic box set atop it. Relics his mother had shoved on him after she finally got his dad to clean out his old room. There were other things in the tubs. Most of it he’d just parked in his Grandma’s basement. But these? Who knows? Maybe they’d be worth something.\n\n\tThe hobby shop wasn’t unfamiliar. Childhood memories came flooding back, even if it wasn’t of this location in particular. There was a kind of mesospheric nostalgia about these places. The femmy young chipmunk man felt a smile curling the furthest corner of his lips as he paced his way though. His eyes darting this way and that over walls full of statues and model kits. Racks of books for tabletop games he’d never play but sometimes liked listening to. Even the somewhat chubby fox in glasses and a bad buzz cut sitting behind the counter felt a bit ‘on brand’ all things considered.\n\n\t“Hey there. Got something for us today?” The man said without missing a beat. His eyes fell on the binder.\n\n\tThe cheap thing hit the table with a thud and Simon unzipped it quickly, opening to reveal a few dozen pages of older yugioh cards. “I have this too” he said as he set the deck box down. “It’s all pretty old. I think I quit playing back in… middle school? Something like that.” He was trying to remember the exact year. It was hard since it wasn’t so much a decision as it was drifting from the few ‘friends’ he had and really lacking anyone to play with.\n\n\tThe man behind the counter nodded and fluffed his tail a bit. “Well I’mma warn you right now that we don’t normally find any massive gems in here the way people think. But you never know.” He started by flipping though the binder. A careful eye cast over each card. Every once in a while he’d stop and tap his chin, then resume. Still no page took more than a minute at most and the bulk of them he leafed like one would peruse a magazine.\n\n\tWithout a word he did the same for the deck box. Only then letting a small smirk cross his lips. “Morphtronics, huh?” He snickered “Takes me back.”\n\n\tEven with the name of the cards written on them the word felt odd to Simon. What had occupied hours of his school time ages ago now felt like some distant bleeding memory from someone else. Events he may as well have read about in a book for all the impact they had on him now. If there were any fond memories of those times then they were deep within the archives of his mind, and he felt no urge to go dig them out.\n\n\t“Yeah, I thought so” The man finally shrugged “I’mma be honest we can’t even take most of this. If you really want to get rid of them I’d suggest selling em online as a lot.”\n\n\t“Mind if I ask what you can take?” Simon’s ears lowered a bit.\n\n\tThe man laid out a few cards, mostly from the deck box. “I could maybe do a buck each for these Armory Arms, given the condition. Then the power tool dragon, Buck for the grandmole.. Yeah with everything I do have here I could probably go about twenty?”\n\n\tSimon paused. A small pang in his chest. Until that moment there really hadn’t been any attachment to these things. Just some old cheap toys from his past that were going to clutter up his house even more. On the other hand, it did hurt hearing someone go that low on their bid. He looked at the bundle of memories, at this sliver of his childhood. All for that?\n\n\t“Yeah, honestly at that point I think I might just keep em.” He sighed. His ears folding back.\n\n\t“Thought so.” The guy shrugged “At least you seem like you’re more realistic about it than most of the guys we get here. You’d be shocked how many people throw a freaking tantrum when they find out they won’t be getting a grand back or something. Actually, you know what?” The salesman turned and rooted around the piles of white cardboard boxes they had set up behind him. After a few minutes he pulled himself up and set three cards down on the binder. “Here. A lil thank-you from me. We don’t get too many people playing Edison around here. But if you ever decide to update that deck, these might not be the worst thing.”\n\n\t“Morphtronic Earfon…” Simon had watched some of the Yugioh anime. The school one and the oddly dark post apoc one. Most of it was shoved into the same dark spaces as the game itself. However he could swear the two monsters on the card art looked like robotic versions of the twins from the latter cartoon. \n\n\t“You sure about this?” he blinked\n\n\t“Eh, It’s like two bucks for all that. Not gonna hurt my wallet one way or the other. Like I said, my way of saying thank you for not being insufferable.”\n\n\tSimon scooped up the unfamiliar cards, looked them over and then dropped them in the deck box. Maybe the guy was being nice. Maybe it was a cheap way to try and get new customers. Honestly it was hard to imagine anyone getting that unreasonable in a game shop. Either way he at least knew how to be gracious. “Well, if I ever do decide to update this deck, I guess I’ll be asking you for help then! Thanks!”\n\n\tAnother little hit of dopamine as the sun’s rays shone through the glass wall of the store and beamed down on his face. Sure he didn’t end up with any hidden gems. So what? A reminder of his past? a few moments of joy at the kindness of another? Those things alone were more than worth the price of gas to get out here. Sometimes one just had to savor life’s simple little moments.\n\n\t“Alright chucklefrick! Let’s get one thing straight!”\n\n\tJust like that, the moment of zen-like calm was shattered. The chipmunk paused just inches from the door swinging right into his muzzle. The near miss sent the whole world into bullet time. A blob of grey and brown barreling at him with no signs of slowing.\n\n\t“You’re going to tell me I can’t use Fynn the Fangbearer tonight, but you’re not giving me any options on what to put in to replace him? I need those hecking poison counters! It’s bad enough you’re making me change last minute. But-” the shrill grumbling whine cut off right as the grey mass impacted against Simon. Both furs ending up slammed hard into the floor.\n\n\t“Frick.” The grey girl muttered. She stared angrily at Simon, who fumbled and groped around for both his glasses and the deck box.\n\n\tHe found the former first and slipped them on just in time to see a scowling and very familiar face. Gone was the nostalgia, and in one instant the recognition clicked. Just as it seemed to for the mole girl. The girl with frizzy all-over hair and a dirty grey Western hoodie. The girl with a collar around her neck. The girl who pointed angrily at him, even as he pointed to her in shock.\n\n\t“You!” They both exclaimed at once.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Leashed Chapter 4: Errands
By TerraMGP

\tTuesday was a slog. In a way, in the deep, dark, philosophical parts of Simon’s brain. Life was a Tuesday.

\tNot everyone was meant to do great things. That was a realization Simon had come to some time in middle school. Oh sure, everyone had aspirations of greatness in their youth. Ask any kid on the playground what they want to be and you’d get answers ranging from sports star to streamer to billionaire. It was the expectation that ‘you’ were the main protagonist. This idea that being exceptional was in fact not exceptional.

\tBy the time he hit seventh grade, Simon Miller realized how solipsistic that all was. Not to mention exhausting.

\tNow here he was nearly a decade later. Your typical ‘smart but unremarkable’ worker bee in a society that had become nothing but profit generating mechanisms. He had become a cog in such a machine, and in doing so was able to comfortably go limp rather than being broken by those silly demands and expectations. He had a career in a stable field. He had a pet, hobbies, interests. He didn’t exactly have friends, but really those would just fill the same slot as any other hobby, right?

\tIf the goal was to get the dopamine flowing, he knew how to do that easily. He had a dedicated hard drive for that. He had set up his TV to stream from his computer just for that. He’d bought a small array of sex toys and a high end set of Bluetooth earphones for that. Best of all, he had a goddess who could give him tasks and shape him into something sexually pleasing to her. Someone willing to take his silly offerings in exchange for treating the pathetic little chipmunk loser the way he deserved. Someone kind enough to put in the actual time and effort to figure out how best to make him worse.

\tThrow all of that together and life really wasn’t so bad. He’d be perfectly content to simply let this uneventful cycle of weeks consume him forever. Except, as they say, nothing is forever.

\tThe Cube had served him well. In spite of what he’d told Justin, it was a bit sad to see it go. Sure it was apparently a horrible car. Bad enough that half its shit had broken on him all at once, in a way that basically rendered it scrap. By now the Cube had probably been parted out. Or maybe turned into another, smaller cube. Whatever they did at junk yards.

\tIn a few hours, he’d be able to forget all of that. He’d be home and basking in a sea of sensory input. A little blush came to his cheeks as he thought about the thumb drive Mistress Justine gave to him. She said it was something she’d cooked up to help him.

\t“Hey Miller, is it Miller time yet?”

\t“You know I don’t drink, Dave.” Simon sighed. He looked up at his manager. The overly friendly feline with little to no sense of personal space or decorum. The man leaned in to the cube wall with his cup of coffee and headfur slicked back to cover a balding spot. Simon always imagined Dave to be some horrific mashup of Patrick Bateman and the manager from ‘office space’. Far more the latter in terms of income and power. Though if he had some poor hooker chopped up in his fridge Simon wasn’t sure he’d be shocked.

\tDave shrugged and leaned over on the desk, looking at the spreadsheet Simon was working on. There was no way the man could have context for it. The totals were all at the bottom and as usual he wasn’t asking Simon to show him that. Or really anything. He was looking busy, and feeling important. As was his wont. As was the choice of many managers, it would seem.

\t“Just a few more months though, yeah? Big 21? You know if you really wanted to go out with us we still need a designated driver. I’d be happy to foot your food bill, too. Pretty sweet deal, right?”

\tSimon smiled his best fake, corporate smile and shook his head. “Nah that’s ok. I actually have to do some errands today.” An excuse, but not a lie. “I appreciate the offer. But you know how it is. I put things off now and soon everything piles up.”

\t“Right! That’s what happened to your car, wasn’t it?” The black furred feline squinted a bit more at the computer screen then stood and shook his head. “Gotta be careful about that, kiddo. If you don’t pay attention to those gauges it’ll end up biting you.”

\tIt would have been so easy to correct him. Even for someone as passive and meek as Simon the urge was there to say something. He hadn’t fucked up that badly. It wasn’t his fault the car had some freak cascade failure. Even Justin had said so!

\tAnd yet while Justin’s admonitions had made him feel guilty, Dave once again just made him feel tired. Simon waved a paw and nodded dismissively. “Yeah” he sighed “I’ll try to do better next time.”

\t“You got this, kid.” Dave nodded “Just remember to have that in the cloud by workday’s end. Can’t really afford to give you guys overtime right now. Upper brass wants to save that for the big boys.”

\tJust like that the overly friendly feline had fled. Simon looked at where the mans paw had been. The space on his desk now felt like it had some thick, aetherial layer of sleaze permeating the plastic and particle board. The kind of spot Lady Macbeth would have lamented. Only smarm instead of blood.

\tThese were the perils of office work, though. Ultimately it was worlds better than the fast food hell he’d done at the tail end of high school. All he had to do was go limp and wait until he got home.

--------------------

\tIt was Wednesday, my dudes. That line always bounced in Simon’s brain on a Wednesday. For him it was a day to prepare as much as anything. That was especially true today

\tIn a perfect world Simon would be Mistress’ paypig. Sure the term was a bit bigoted. So was ‘trap’. He’d be that too, though.

\tThe idea of being put to work to the point of exhaustion just to give it all away to some gorgeous gothy goddess who couldn’t really care less about him was insanely hot. Even hotter when he thought about the idea that she might never even let him cum again. It was the stuff of fucked up porn any sane and submissive young man should want to see made real! Right up there with sissy makeout sessions and blackmail threats.

\tThis was not a perfect world. She had other clients, and he still had to live a ‘normal’ life six days of the week. Throwing it all away just to be a porn pet wasn’t the rational thing to do no matter how hot it was. Plus it wasn’t even what Mistress Justine wanted. After all, he knew now she didn’t live like that outside of sessions. No, he knew that even before then. He’d seen it before. An admittedly hot show not long ago with Justin and his actual partners.

\tAll Simon could really do was enjoy what service he was allowed to give. Even if it meant braving the bowls of the dreaded J.C. Penny.

\tThese stories held a kind of memory to them. He’d been going to this one his whole life, but even when dragged to another one by grandparents or when out on vacation and needing some kind of clothing Simon could recall how similar they all felt. Everything from the twin escalators to the odd shade of yellow. The tile and racks of clothing. It didn’t so much feel like individual stores. Rather, every Penny’s felt like it was carved off from some larger reality and you simply entered a portal into it. He stepped in from the cold and imagined the sea of homogenous carpet and walls going on for miles in the distance. Fading in to a point because whatever plane they existed on now was in fact flat, as opposed to the way some crazy people thought the world worked. It was the stuff of liminal nightmares. If he were an artist or a writer, and twenty other people hadn’t done the same thing to death by now, he might have actually taken a crack at making that into a comic or something.

\tHe focused on the odd feeling of hard tile under him. Polished concrete or granite or whatever it was. The odd sensation which transitioned under his chucks to the slightly softer pad of carpeting any time he dared dip from the trail. He was wandering in some unnatural forest looking over bushes and trees which sprouted slacks and jeans rather than anything natural.

\tEventually he reached his destination. Sweaters. A veritable cornucopia of sweaters. Most of them in styles he didn’t recognize or colors he found utterly repellant. Sweaters that buttoned up. Sweaters that seemed to  be knitted with god awful bumpy textures. Short sleeve sweaters and sweaters with embossed flower patterns.

\tAs a straight man, Simon had eyed a girl or two in his time. Not once could he ever recall seeing a girl in anything like this. None of these sweaters looked like things people would actually buy. It was the result of some alien intellect looking in on furkind and then sprouting these sweaters based on a vague understanding of what a person ‘would’ wear. Mimicked form without a true understanding of aesthetics.

\tAnd then he saw it, and he paused.

\tIt was too big. Even for what he intended it was too big. At some point Simon had apparently drifted far enough that he was close to the ‘big and tall’ area for the women’s section. He’d checked his own size before coming so he knew even if he a woman it would be too big on him. But that was perfect. The soft blue of it. The feel of the simple knit fabric. The tight turtleneck that would easily be bunched up and stretched out with a bit of work.

\tSimon closed his eyes and smiled. So much of his life he’d lived with the hell of people teasing him for his name. Abusing him because his parents for whatever reason that kids would magically decide to stop being cruel when it came to him.

\tJeanette.

\tFor most of his sessions with Mistress Justine the whole thing had felt off somehow. Not bad. Obviously nothing he could endure from her was bad. But he was never quite sure what kind of ‘girl’ his pay-dommie had been seeking to make him. Simone just felt like a cheap and easy nickname to give when someone didn’t want to put any effort in. a rule 63 variant which happened to sound like a hooker stereotype. Now, though, he had a target to aim for. He could feel his constantly aching manhood twitch a bit in his underwear. She had to know how degrading it was to pick that name. Refusing to let him escape the shame of his younger years. Second-hand sexualizing all of that built up trauma by showing him that he’d only ever be some parody, some mockery, some living punch line. His flat little ass squeezed at the idea of it. He suddenly felt very shy, very timid, and very scared. All in the best ways possible.

\tTonight he’d start toying with those audio files his Mistress had given him. He’d listen to them in place of his normal sissy hypno while watching those videos. He’d find out the first few facts of just who ‘Jeanette’ was supposed to be. And he’d do it wearing this cute blue sweater. With a purple skirt if he could find it, and nice simple innocent panties. He wasn’t ready to debut her. Not yet. Probably not until next week at least. But he ‘was’ putting in the work if nothing else.

\tGod, if only his hair were a bit longer.

--------------------

\tFriday’s were the worst.

\tSimon was well aware this was a minority opinion. A situational one at that. For everyone else Friday meant the end of the work day. It meant getting to relax at home and try to brush off the fact that they’d wasted up to half of the total day and over half of the waking day getting ready for, getting to and getting home from work.

\tFriday was supposed to be the day he would unwind. Instead it was the day he did all the errands that were impossible during the week. For Simon it was the longest day from his most important one. Moreover it was the day when he generally penciled in shopping and errands. That part was more on him, though. Truth be told he just didn’t like going out on weekends and some things were easier to do without relying on a Shipt delivery from Meijer. Sure it was a bit irresponsible to pay for grocery delivery on an intern’s job. But fuck it, two hours of his paycheck for the fee and tip to save him two hours worth of shopping and checkout? Seemed like a fair enough deal in his eyes.

\tToday’s errand was different. He looked up from the dash of his newly purchased old VW Golf and up to the strip mall before him. The store he had his eyes on was plastered with signs and posters. Advertisements about events sat beside faded pictures of Pokemon and guys in big sci-fi armor he occasionally saw when Steam tried to push some game on him. Geeky acculturation at its finest. He cast his eyes to the passengers seat. A cheap old orange school binder and plastic box set atop it. Relics his mother had shoved on him after she finally got his dad to clean out his old room. There were other things in the tubs. Most of it he’d just parked in his Grandma’s basement. But these? Who knows? Maybe they’d be worth something.

\tThe hobby shop wasn’t unfamiliar. Childhood memories came flooding back, even if it wasn’t of this location in particular. There was a kind of mesospheric nostalgia about these places. The femmy young chipmunk man felt a smile curling the furthest corner of his lips as he paced his way though. His eyes darting this way and that over walls full of statues and model kits. Racks of books for tabletop games he’d never play but sometimes liked listening to. Even the somewhat chubby fox in glasses and a bad buzz cut sitting behind the counter felt a bit ‘on brand’ all things considered.

\t“Hey there. Got something for us today?” The man said without missing a beat. His eyes fell on the binder.

\tThe cheap thing hit the table with a thud and Simon unzipped it quickly, opening to reveal a few dozen pages of older yugioh cards. “I have this too” he said as he set the deck box down. “It’s all pretty old. I think I quit playing back in… middle school? Something like that.” He was trying to remember the exact year. It was hard since it wasn’t so much a decision as it was drifting from the few ‘friends’ he had and really lacking anyone to play with.

\tThe man behind the counter nodded and fluffed his tail a bit. “Well I’mma warn you right now that we don’t normally find any massive gems in here the way people think. But you never know.” He started by flipping though the binder. A careful eye cast over each card. Every once in a while he’d stop and tap his chin, then resume. Still no page took more than a minute at most and the bulk of them he leafed like one would peruse a magazine.

\tWithout a word he did the same for the deck box. Only then letting a small smirk cross his lips. “Morphtronics, huh?” He snickered “Takes me back.”

\tEven with the name of the cards written on them the word felt odd to Simon. What had occupied hours of his school time ages ago now felt like some distant bleeding memory from someone else. Events he may as well have read about in a book for all the impact they had on him now. If there were any fond memories of those times then they were deep within the archives of his mind, and he felt no urge to go dig them out.

\t“Yeah, I thought so” The man finally shrugged “I’mma be honest we can’t even take most of this. If you really want to get rid of them I’d suggest selling em online as a lot.”

\t“Mind if I ask what you can take?” Simon’s ears lowered a bit.

\tThe man laid out a few cards, mostly from the deck box. “I could maybe do a buck each for these Armory Arms, given the condition. Then the power tool dragon, Buck for the grandmole.. Yeah with everything I do have here I could probably go about twenty?”

\tSimon paused. A small pang in his chest. Until that moment there really hadn’t been any attachment to these things. Just some old cheap toys from his past that were going to clutter up his house even more. On the other hand, it did hurt hearing someone go that low on their bid. He looked at the bundle of memories, at this sliver of his childhood. All for that?

\t“Yeah, honestly at that point I think I might just keep em.” He sighed. His ears folding back.

\t“Thought so.” The guy shrugged “At least you seem like you’re more realistic about it than most of the guys we get here. You’d be shocked how many people throw a freaking tantrum when they find out they won’t be getting a grand back or something. Actually, you know what?” The salesman turned and rooted around the piles of white cardboard boxes they had set up behind him. After a few minutes he pulled himself up and set three cards down on the binder. “Here. A lil thank-you from me. We don’t get too many people playing Edison around here. But if you ever decide to update that deck, these might not be the worst thing.”

\t“Morphtronic Earfon…” Simon had watched some of the Yugioh anime. The school one and the oddly dark post apoc one. Most of it was shoved into the same dark spaces as the game itself. However he could swear the two monsters on the card art looked like robotic versions of the twins from the latter cartoon.

\t“You sure about this?” he blinked

\t“Eh, It’s like two bucks for all that. Not gonna hurt my wallet one way or the other. Like I said, my way of saying thank you for not being insufferable.”

\tSimon scooped up the unfamiliar cards, looked them over and then dropped them in the deck box. Maybe the guy was being nice. Maybe it was a cheap way to try and get new customers. Honestly it was hard to imagine anyone getting that unreasonable in a game shop. Either way he at least knew how to be gracious. “Well, if I ever do decide to update this deck, I guess I’ll be asking you for help then! Thanks!”

\tAnother little hit of dopamine as the sun’s rays shone through the glass wall of the store and beamed down on his face. Sure he didn’t end up with any hidden gems. So what? A reminder of his past? a few moments of joy at the kindness of another? Those things alone were more than worth the price of gas to get out here. Sometimes one just had to savor life’s simple little moments.

\t“Alright chucklefrick! Let’s get one thing straight!”

\tJust like that, the moment of zen-like calm was shattered. The chipmunk paused just inches from the door swinging right into his muzzle. The near miss sent the whole world into bullet time. A blob of grey and brown barreling at him with no signs of slowing.

\t“You’re going to tell me I can’t use Fynn the Fangbearer tonight, but you’re not giving me any options on what to put in to replace him? I need those hecking poison counters! It’s bad enough you’re making me change last minute. But-” the shrill grumbling whine cut off right as the grey mass impacted against Simon. Both furs ending up slammed hard into the floor.

\t“Frick.” The grey girl muttered. She stared angrily at Simon, who fumbled and groped around for both his glasses and the deck box.

\tHe found the former first and slipped them on just in time to see a scowling and very familiar face. Gone was the nostalgia, and in one instant the recognition clicked. Just as it seemed to for the mole girl. The girl with frizzy all-over hair and a dirty grey Western hoodie. The girl with a collar around her neck. The girl who pointed angrily at him, even as he pointed to her in shock.

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