Trojan by Lao

     The Shepherd grabbed the man from behind. His small brown furred hands caressed the man as they start to go down. Chest. Abs. Butt… If he wanted to go lower, the Shepherd knew that he’d need to crouch and thus he did, caressing the man’s legs while trying to look down.

     They were in public, and the Shepherd did not want anyone else to notice them.

     He then moved over and repeated the motions. Everything normal, except that as he went down, a peculiar scent assaulted his nostrils. Canine as he was, his snout moved his body forward (public be damned!) until it rested neatly at the man’s crotch, which was starting to swell.

     “Wow, easy there,” Atlas said. “You know, if you wanted to do a cavity search, we could always go somewhere more… private.” The shark then out a finder under the German Shepherd’s maw and raised his head lightly. “Though I get the feeling you’d rather be the one searched, am I right?”

     The TSA agent blushed and looked away as he signaled to the shark to keep moving. The shark just shrugged and moved over to the conveyor belt to grab his stuff before leaving the security check.

     Those damned mammals and their noses…

     While initially just another airport, the recent urban developments had made the Fiera International Airport very well renowned nowadays. From it’s lush indoor botanical gardens, large variety of brand retail stores, and even its own hotel chain and casino; many people considered it THE place to hang out in the city. In fact, for the last couple years, the regular visitors to the FIA had started to outnumber the people landing there for a layover. But probably the best thing was that, as one of the busiest airports in the world, there were so many people that everyone was, for all intents and purposes, invisible. No one would notice, say, a buff shark hurrying along the many corridors looking for one thing in particular.

     A bathroom.

     Atlas continued to walk around. Occupied stalls here. People talking there. Cleaning crew…

     At long last, and several terminals after the one where he was boarding, he finally reached the perfect one. A closed bathroom. Maintenance, so no risk of other people intruding while he dealt with his small problem. Atlas took a quick look before moving under the tape and closing the door off. He then moved over to the last cubicle, unzipped his pants, and fished out what was inside.

     “You almost got us caught.”

     A small stoat, barely the size of the shark’s palm, started to stomp on the only thing keeping it from falling into the waters below. “Hey, whose idea was it to stuff me there?”

     The shark rolled his eyes. Micros got flushed for less attitude than that. However, the stoat was still useful, so he instead put the micro on the toilet’s lid. “Hey, you’re the one who went to college, don’t you know they have X-rays for the carry-on bags?”

     Finn snorted. Like if those were things that they taught you in college. “Anyway, there had to be other places for me to hide.”

     “Like inside my shoes, which I had to take off as well? Didn’t take you for a kinky freak.” Atlas chuckled. “But then again, it seemed like someone was having fun down there.”

     Finn blushed, partly at the comment and partly at the sight of the shark’s hemipenes which were now lying semi-soft on the shark’s hand. He was well acquainted with his two… roommates of the last couple hours or so, having to hold on to them as the giant walked around. Even more so when the constant brushing of his fur against them made the blind pair throb and shift as they looked for the source of all that touching.

     In fact, Finn had the feeling that if he had not latched to one of them, the pair would have eventually found him and tried to have their way with him. Even like that, his ass and mouth had been constantly teased by the pair, leaving his fur coated in musk that was not his own and a peculiar taste on his mouth.

     Though you could not exactly blame them for that last part.

     “I’m just saying that… really? Are you seriously doing that right now?”

     Atlas grinned as the yellow stream continued to flow out of one of his heads. “Yeah, got a problem with that, chaparrito?”

     He did, but at his current height, there was nothing Finn could do about it.

     A short while later, the stream stopped, and Atlas laid out his hand. “Time to go.”

     “Wait, you’re not— where are you putting me?”

     Atlas sighed. Not this again. He closed his hand over the small stoat and started to lower him towards his cloaca. Finn shivered as he saw the partly open slit slowly engulf his two roommates. Once in front of it, Atlas let go of the stoat and started prodding him in with one finger, wincing at the pain from the stoat’s claws as he hold onto the slit.

     “Wait, wait, wait!”

     “Why?”

     “Well, we’re past security already. Maybe I could go somewhere else this time? Like a pocket?”

     “You’ll just fall, and if you do—”

     “No! I promise, I won’t. Please, just not there…”

     Atlas rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

     The shark grabbed the stoat again, dropping him inside one of his side pockets like if he was a roll of coins. With the nuisance silent for now, he left the bathroom and started the way back to his gate. Meanwhile, the stoat reminisced about what brought him to this situation.

     It had all started a couple months ago…

- - -

     “The Goldsmiths!?”

     He had to be kidding. The Goldsmiths were one of the wealthiest families in the country. Even in the world. The Goldsmith family was present everywhere. From politics to entertainment to scientific research, if there was buzz around it, a Goldsmith was involved.

     “Indeed,” the moose answered.

     The stoat was taken aback. When he was told that a government agency needed his help, Finn did not expect this.

     There were also several rumors around that the Goldsmiths had dealings with the seedier parts of society as well. No one messed with the Goldsmith family and lived to tell the tale, and now they somehow expected him to get dirt on them?

     No, absolutely not. He was an engineer. A programmer. This, this was way out of his leagues.

     “I’m sorry, but I… if they find out…”

     “Do not worry about that,” the agent said. “They will never know.”

     Before Finn could ask what he meant by that, the door opened widely, revealing a tall man chewing on a toothpick. The shark entered the room, his open shirt swaying as he walked and showing his tattoos and defined abs as he moved. But even if it had been closed, the shirt did little to conceal the shark’s huge muscles. Just from what he could see, Finn could guess that the man’s biceps were twice the size of his own, maybe even more.

     “Meet Atlas,” the moose said. “And don’t worry, we have just the right way of sneaking you in and out…”

     The shark lowered his sunglasses and winked at the stoat, and just like that here he was.

     Stuck inside some tug’s pocket that smelled like fish and stale urine. Pinned in place by his caretaker’s hand on top of, had he been a mammal, what would have been his balls. Listening as the shark boisterously laughed, flirted around, and snored so loud that Finn wondered at first if maybe the plane was malfunctioning.

     This was not what he had thought when they told him he was going to fly in first class…

- - -

     Finn opened his eyes. He still seemed to be inside his clothing prison, but there was something missing. The shark’s hand. Moreover, it seemed like “ground” was firmer than before. The stoat got on his knees and started to crawl to the opposite end of the pocket and out of the opening. He turned right and saw the huge frame of the shark. Atlas was drinking something from a can and it didn’t take long before the stoat figured out what it was.

     A laugh track came from the nearby TV and the twitching shark ended up dropping part of his drink over the stoat. “Oops, sorry there, chaparrito.”

     Finn tried to shake the liquid off, but it was in vain. He would be smelling like cheap beer for quite some time. Whether this was better than smelling like shark musk, it was something he didn’t dare to think about. “Just, never mind, when did we…?”

     “Oh, uhm, three hours ago?”

     “What? Three hours!?”

     “Maybe four?”

     This was not about the exact the number. “Then, what was I still doing inside your pocket?”

     Atlas shrugged. “I don’t know, you tell me, chaparrito.”

     “And stop calling me that!” Finn shouted. At long last, he had gotten the shark’s attention. But in his face was not concern, regret, fear, or any of the many other emotions that the stoat wanted to see. It was amusement.

     “So, tell me, what does Mr. Micro want to be called instead?”

     “I. Am. Not. A. Micro.”

     Atlas turned off the TV and pinched the stoat by the nape of his neck, lifting him until he was at eye level. From where he was, Finn almost gagged because of the scent. Just how much had the shark drank?

     “I don’t know, you look very much like a micro to me.”

     Finn was suddenly dropped on the shark’s arm. Before he could protest, the shark flexed, causing the stoat to stumble as the “ground” below him shifted and held him in place right in the shark’s wagina. A few seconds later, the shark stopped, and Finn dropped on to the bed, the soft mattress cushioning his fall. Even after he was back up on his feet, Finn could see that the shark was still laughing.

     “Why the fuck did you do that!?”

     “I dunno. It was fun.”

     Unbelievable.

     Finn turned away from the shark and sat down. He would not give the shark the privilege of knowing the effect he had on him. He wanted to be the bigger man in this situation.

     “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. We good?”

     Atlas offered the stoat two fingers to shake it all off, but the stoat was still pouting. Even when he offered him some of his snacks (bag was half eaten, but anyway…), the stoat continued to ignore him. Atlas sighed. The people he was forced to work with.

     With a quick flick of his hand, Atlas scooped the stoat.

     “What are you—?”

     The shark tightened his grip, completely immobilizing the stoat within and leaving only his head outside the closed fist. Out of instinct, Finn bit what little parts of the hand he could reach, but his teeth only sank into the rubbery flesh without making it tear. There was no escape for him. He then felt the pressure from the shark’s thumb as it pressed against the back of his head.

     Finn tried to move away, but every time he even so much twitched, the thumb brought him back in place. It was rough, it was strong, and if it wanted him at a certain place, it would have him at that certain place. It was only when Finn stopped trying to escape, stopped biting, stopped… misbehaving, that the thumb started to lose its grip. The stoat heard as Atlas turned the TV back on, but before he could say anything, the thumb was back at his head, but this time it moved softly and tenderly. It was rubbing him.

     This was so denigrating. He was being treated like a feral animal. Finn had all the right to be mad right now, and he was. And yet, the way the thumb moved and the speed at which it did so. It was… soothing in a way. Did the shark have previous experience with bad pets before? Wait, no, that was not right. After all, it was not like considered himself a pet to—

     “Chaparrito?”

     The stoat went back to reality. He didn’t know when it happened, but he was lying face up on the shark’s sculpted stomach.

     “I asked that if you remembered the plan?”

     From the way his hand was positioned, had the shark been scratching his belly all this time?

     “Yeah, I do.”

     “Good, good…”

     Atlas went back to rubbing the stoat’s fur and tried to get his mind off his mission.

     After all, this might be their one and only chance…