FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Water flowed over the rocks, burbling and bubbling, inviting; the sound of the brook seemed to fill the forest, yet Trescall did not approach to drink. Not yet. These days, a dragon needed to do everything with the utmost caution.

Or he would be the next to disappear...

So he listened, he watched, he sniffed the air carefully, first from one spot, then from the next, stealing closer and closer to the stream each time. Dragons did not ordinarily hear so much birdsong, as they quieted when they heard him pass, but now he'd been there long enough, stealthy enough, that the little creatures had forgotten his presence and their chirps and trills rang through the forest canopy all around him. The natural sounds of the woods: rushing water, leaves stirred by the breeze, the calls of birds and insects going about their days, undisturbed by large predators lurking in silence like himself--or by anthros come to disrupt the peace with their machines and their mess and their noise. None of which, despite all of his waiting, he could see or hear or smell. This water source was safe.

Green and gray scales shifted among the dappled sunlight and shadows from above as he crept from his final sheltered sentry spot, uncoiling to prowl smoothly to the bank. One last look around, then down went his black-streaked nose to the water. Ahhh, at last! The result was worth the wait, cool clear water lapped up into his jaws and down his throat, easing thirst that had grown intense thanks to his great caution. He sighed, finally dared close his eyes and relax his wings for a moment, and drank his fill, enjoying the moment of calm.

Such a luxury it was to relax!

But dragons were never meant to have things so easy: he was nearly finished when something hissed out of the trees and stung him on the flank. The startled yowl that spluttered out as he snapped his head up from the stream quieted the nearby birds, and he spun around first to snarl at whatever had dared attack him--and seeing nothing among the trees--before twisting around in time to see the offending device drop from the back of his thigh: a tube with a stinger on one end and a small, colorful bundle of fluff on the other. His heart thundered into overdrive, as if trying to counteract the dread that clawed at his underbelly at the sight. Trescall had seen a dragon struck by one of these things before: she had grown woozy, lethargic, and then fallen asleep, and would have been abducted by a group of anthros had he and a few other dragons not come to her aid, chasing the hunters away.

He had no such protection today. Too many dragons had vanished.

That knowledge meant fright, but he'd been able to cling to his freedom long enough to consider all the options he might have if this happened to him, so rather than waste time in a panic he did what he decided gave him the best chance to escape: he spread his wings and he launched into the sky. Trying to find and attack whoever had shot him before the drugs took effect wouldn't stop them--better to get as far away as he could, hide somewhere safe, so that he could shake off whatever was in that dart before the bipeds found him. For now his wings pumped strongly, and as he lifted above the trees to find a stiff breeze awaiting him he felt as if it was a sign, the fresh rushing air that blew through his nose seeming so cool and sharp and energizing after so much time among all the scents of close damp earth back down by the creek. Maybe he was strong enough to fight it off. Maybe it hadn't worked properly. He could get away!

Trescall steered for home, banking to put the wind at his back and increasing his speed. [i]Not today.[/i] He'd get away, he'd make sure he was fine, and [i]then[/i] he could go on the hunt in turn, track those anthros down and teach them a lesson! Once he was closer to the mountaintop, once he was safe in his cave, had covered his tracks, had pulled that screen of branches and undergrowth across the entrance... They'd never find him there, they hadn't yet! For a moment he imagined defeating the anthros and making them fear a proper, free, ferocious dragon, imagined raiding their homesteads to liberate his fellows, imagined the satisfaction of victory, the gratitude and deference of the freed dragons, the company of a grateful dragoness or two, the sort of rendezvous he hadn't experienced in far too long. But he was getting ahead of himself! Some time safe at home would come first, then cautious planning and still more careful hunting.

The bipeds hadn't always been like this. He could remember his parents taking him to a little town as a hatchling, remembered being surrounded by exciting colorful sights and fascinating new sounds and smells, remembered happy welcoming faces all around, and the [i]treats,[/i] he'd never tasted anything like them before! But things had changed in the last ten years: the anthros grown more hostile, more aggressive and confrontational, and when the dragons had started pushing back the captures had begun. At first it had been nice for those who'd stayed away from the conflict--more space, less competition for the dragonesses--but then it had become worrying, then crisis, and now... But not today. He'd get away today. He looked up the slope, marking the spot he'd flown to so many times, just another minute or so of this rapid flight, just to the ridge, he knew the exact tilting tree that was his beacon, and there it was--tilting--

Damn it.

Adrenaline--or the time it took for the drugs injected by the dart to take effect--had carried him this far, but when he tried to keep his course fixed on that landmark his sight began to sway; he growled and blinked and tossed his head, and all appeared right again... and then began to spin again, and then to slide out of view... He realized a moment later that his wingbeats had slowed, that it wasn't his vision wavering--maybe that was too--but his flight that was failing. No, no, no, he was only halfway home, he didn't have his hiding spot here on the near side of the mountain, this wasn't safe! When he focused he could force himself to beat faster, and he regained a little of his lost altitude, trying to shrug off the lethargy yet knowing he was running short on time. Unless he somehow proved too strong for the sedatives... and he didn't know of a dragon who had... he only had a little time now to hide, and his wings were growing lazy despite his urgent efforts. They felt clumsy, slow, like the air had thickened around them and would not let them move, and at last he had to make himself glide, descending rapidly and just trying to get his unsteady senses to stay sharp enough to find him a clearing where he could land and leave the least possible trail. Soon he'd be too lethargic, dazed or unconscious, unable to protect himself, and if he couldn't conceal himself...

It wasn't as if he had much of a choice of where he touched down, not when his wings refused to carry him further. The best he could do was try not to crash, and though he found a glade to land in without striking one or several trees, he landed heavily, hard enough that he nearly fell right over. No, not here... His legs felt increasingly leaden as well, and he growled quietly as he fought against his own body, against whatever poison they anthros had put into his system that was making his vitality slither away, as if his strength was being drunk out of him as easily as he'd drunk water from the stream. Out in the open like this was the worst possible place to be! He needed to get under cover, needed to conceal his tracks, and get as far as he could while he still could. He marched forward, nearly tripping over his own claws; he couldn't seem to focus on more than one thing at a time. Front paw, other hind, other front, hind, forcing himself forward, across the meadow, into the trees.

Except that the world wasn't just tilting now, darkness was beginning to eat at the edges of his vision, and he felt oddly lightheaded, as if he was growing disconnected from his body. Were the situation not so dire he might have giggled to himself, at the odd, loopy feeling of it; he staggered, need to wipe away his clawed footsteps or the dragging tips of his wings or heavy tail forgotten--when had those gone so limp? He could hardly lift them from the ground, and when he tried he stumbled again. He had to stay on task, he had to keep walking into the woods. Get somewhere dark. Get somewhere hidden, a thicket, a crevice, anything...

Coolness. Shade. He was struggling to lift his gaze from the ground in front of his paws, but he'd made it that far. Now if he could just... get under something. Under the trees. No, not trees, not just cozy shade-- His claws were dragging too, now, but the energy he had left was devoted to just keeping himself moving, lifting them any higher felt like too much. Where was a good spot? He managed to raise his head but his eyelids drooped. No, not yet, he wasn't ready...! The dragon's snout wavered back and forth, trying to look for the best hiding place but hardly able to interpret his surroundings; instead dark clouds appeared in his vision, and for a moment he saw himself as if from behind, hissing and snarling and breathing fire at the haze of the drugs so that it could not envelop him, and he mumbled encouragement to the valiant dragon as his nose dipped once more. His gait was wandering too, listing side to side as much as forward, and he hardly even felt the root--had he even caught his paw on a root? Or just crumpled down in exhaustion? But he found himself slumped against a tree, his paws gently pressing alternately at the dirt for a few moments until he registered that he'd fallen over.

But this wasn't his cave. Trescall was exposed... He wasn't safe. He couldn't get his legs to work, or his wings... He... Were these... his last moments of freedom? He needed to fight off this unnatural exhaustion... he had to keep moving, or..! Would he be safe? Was he going to be captured like so many others?

He didn't know. He couldn't even really focus properly to hope that he wouldn't be. His limbs went still, his thoughts slowed to a crawl, then his eyes slid shut and darkness took him.

Darkness didn't relinquish him.

His mind crawled out of unconsciousness just as gently as he'd slid into it. Gradually his senses flickered on, off, on again, aware first of a firm surface beneath him, of pressure against him. His mouth felt funny. Even if he'd had a clear mind to try to describe what he smelled, he would not have been able to, it smelled so strange; he was aware of muffled sounds, but they slid into one earhole and out the other without leaving any impression on him. The world remained black; he couldn't seem to bring himself to open his eyes. He felt as if there was pressure against them, too, that they needed to stay shut to protect them. At least his scales felt warm and sunny...

"...rabbited as soon as we hit him. Flew damn near four miles before bogging down..."

No, that wasn't right. He had been trying to find... darkness. Safety. Trying to hide. When did a dragon ever need to hide?

"...got the truck up here, so we can get it down again."

Those were voices... anthro voices. They'd--there had been hunters--they'd found him!

Trescall tried to lift his head, tried to roll to his feet, tried to spread his wings--instead the pressure he'd hazily felt before resolved into many broad straps that wrapped tight around him, pinned him to whatever surface he rested on: he could hardly move! He thrashed, he kicked, he made a low muffled sound rather than the startled, dismayed howl he'd attempted, but his limbs couldn't find any purchase! His wings were pinned to his back, his hind legs together and stuck to his tail, his front legs twisted down against his sides, and all over his body a further multitude of thick sturdy bands pinned him down so he could hardly even wiggle, forced to lie flat and straight on his side. He couldn't even lift his head with his neck strapped to the hard surface beneath him in multiple places; his head was even more strictly smothered, some thick heavy material wrapped over it, stopping him from seeing or spreading his jaws.

Captured!

Multiple voices sounded around him, as his struggles told them quite dramatically that he'd woken up, but he ignored them. He didn't want to listen, didn't want their gloating, he just wanted to--had to--break free! Tendons strained as he twisted one way, then the other, his claws still seeming stiff and fuzzy--no, not numb, but seemingly wrapped in something, so he couldn't flex them or find anything to dig them into. But he needed to cut his bonds! He bucked, powerful limbs firing against the many straps, then again, then again, and each time he just felt a different binding the most strongly: the leather twisted and bent but did not stretch, denying the freedom he fought for. There were so [i]many[/i] straps, each of them so tight, each of them refusing to let him go! He tried to bare his teeth, to snarl his fury, and again was stymied by the snug hood over his head: it didn't just cover it, it pinned his jaws together, keeping them fixed against something large and firm they'd put into his mouth, which he couldn't seem to get between his teeth to gnaw apart no matter how he tried to bite down.

"Rrrmmm. [i]Mmmmm![/i] Rrmmgg mmmff! Mm-- [i]mmmmmmfff!"[/i]

He struggled and he thrashed until something stung him on the haunch--not a small sharp bite like the dart, something white-hot and overpowering that made him see stars for a moment as all his muscles seized. That [i]hurt![/i]

[i]"Enough,[/i] beast! You're not getting out of that."

"And we'd know. Seen plenty of dragons try, some of them bigger than you."

He growled, muffled, and twisted his limbs far more slowly, trying to see if he could slip something out by worming one direction or another rather than by brute force... but everything was so [i]tight...[/i] He wished he could see what held him, so he could figure out how it worked and how to get it off or just so he could [i]glare[/i] his fury at the hunters, but his vision was totally black beneath the hood, hardly able to track the positions of the anthros as they all chattered around him.

"That's a bit better. You gotta start learning to behave if you want that hood unlaced anytime soon."

"And no better time for lesson one: you're not a free dragon any longer."

"Not enough space to go around to let dragons claim so much of it anymore." There were at least four voices, and beyond them, he could hear the deep slow rumbling of one of their machines. When he lay still he could feel whatever he lay on gently vibrating beneath him; was he attached to it? Gently rubbing his hood against the surface didn't make it shift at all to restore his vision. "So you're ticketed for PML Ranch, provided you're clever enough to learn to behave quick. If you're not... then just into storage, most likely."

Something further away in front of his head rattled open, then slammed shut, followed by a similar sound from a different angle. "I recommend the ranch. Plenty of work, but lots more fresh air and sunshine. Not to mention they've got a couple of females trained up pretty well if you're hoping for company--the ladies sure must be."

He snorted at them, as if the [i]company[/i] could make up for captivity--even if it'd been quite a while since there had been a dragoness around for him to spend a little time with--and tried to find some room to wiggle his claws... surely there was something he could do with them. Some way out of this! He hadn't recalled seeing any vanished dragon return but he'd been clever enough to last this long--

"Of course, only the [i]best[/i] dragons get those kind of privileges." One of their soft little hands found its way somewhere most unexpected, and he stiffened when they patted his balls, then stroked nearby--but only partially touched his sheath, which he hadn't even had time to notice had something wrapped around it. Something tight, and unyielding... He squirmed, trying to pull away, but had nowhere to go with the heavy bands pinning him down. "You want to breed, you gotta earn it, and you stay in chastity until then."

"And after," chuckled another voice. "Don't want [i]too[/i] many of your kind, even if proper training can make you damned useful."

Trescall growled at them, thickened and muffled with his snout stuffed full and tongue pinned, still hardly able to process what was happening. They wanted to what--to tame him? Make him labor for them? To-- [i]not[/i] let him mate? It was so much all at once, he couldn't think except that he couldn't let it happen! He bucked again, his forelegs trying to tug away from his sides, neck arching against its straps as he did his best to put his back into it, throw [i]all[/i] his strength against the restraints until something broke! His heart hammered in his ears, his joints flexed, his neck tensed so much it made his head ache as he forced all the power he could dredge up into his limbs and leaned to one side, to the other, trying and trying and getting nowhere-- "Rrrmmmm-- mmmmrrrgh!"

His futile efforts were interrupted by that sudden, sharp pain, accompanied by a buzz and a [i]snap,[/i], and again he went still rather than goad them into doing that another time, his chest heaving against the straps from the effort. "Awww, do you not want to make those females happy? These nuts of yours look like they've got plenty to share..." They caressed him there again, and his hind claws clenched against the wrapping material, hips squirming as the metal encasing his sheath began to feel tighter; he tried to ignore it and growled again. A little time fooling around with a dragoness--another captured one, no less--was not worth his freedom, not at all! "Or is it that you're hoping to have another male for company? Though we only unlock the top for that," they added with a giggle, continuing to fondle his sack while he couldn't kick them away, as much as he would have liked to launch them into the nearest tree trunk after [i]that[/i] suggestion! All he could do was growl louder, muffled voice echoing in his ears as despite his attempts to dissuade them they started to tickle at the tip of his sheath between the bars of steel encasing it. "And it [i]definitely[/i] doesn't come off if you act out and get put in storage..."

The rumbling sound from up ahead roared briefly, and the surface beneath him bumped and swayed: their machine was starting to move. He needed to get out soon, while there was only this little group and not a whole community of them to escape... "Clarissa! Knock it off." Trescall snorted, his head twitching against the strap right below his skull as he tried to bob his snout in agreement. [i]Stop[/i] fondling him there already--it was really starting to make his sheath ache since that thing they'd put on him didn't give him any room to grow in response to the touch, unwanted as it might have been!

"What? It worked great on that speedy red one didn't it?"

"But [i]this[/i] one didn't evade us so long by just acting on instinct. He's too smart to be motivated by his balls."

"Mmmnn!" he huffed in agreement, though it was harder to hear him over the sound of their machine's engine and its wheels rolling over whatever trail it was traveling on--and they made an amused noise when his hips jerked while he struggled, not dissuaded from playing with him by the other hunter's protest or by his own.

"He's [i]male![/i] They're all motivated by their balls... you are too," they said, shifting her hands back to his orbs as she did so... and at just the wrong time, too, as all that attention to his increasingly straining, sensitive trapped tip made him feel the absence of touch far more strongly than he thought was appropriate for the situation, writhing and groaning as his sheath throbbed with a longing that was wholly unwelcome! "See?" they laughed, rubbing it in with a few more pets of his sack and making his snout flush under the stifling hood in indignation that the pulsing, needy ache of his shaft pressing against the metal cage only made him feel even more strongly!

The anthro sat clinging to him for balance as they went over a myriad of bumps, and he groaned again, clenching his claws in frustration. His struggles weren't getting him anywhere, not out of his bonds, not out of his sheath, and every second that slipped past while she distracted him was another second wasting what might be his last best chances to get away. Assuming he hadn't already spent his last opportunities in a drugged stupor, lying senseless beneath a tree while they bound him... He tried valiantly to lift his head, flap his wings, to kick, to thrust, and the only place it got him was wherever the machine carried him! But it couldn't be too late. He had to keep trying. Straps creaked, shifted around him, refused to loosen their grip. Muscles stood out under his scales as he flexed. His sheath bulged between cage bars, prefluid drooled from his tip. Bared teeth were concealed by the hood and snarls of effort were muffled far below the threshold of threatening, so subdued that they couldn't even warn an anthro to stop playing with his tight, aching nuts!

The ride was getting less bumpy, telling him that they were getting closer to the smooth paved trails of their territory with every passing moment that he failed to break free. He couldn't let it happen--he needed urgently to get out, to get hard!--yet no amount of kicks or thrashes shook him free from his predicament, nothing was working, his whole body felt hot as he gasped and his heart raced and no matter what he did all his restraints held. He couldn't move, he couldn't think, he couldn't get out of his sheath, he couldn't make her stop teasing his balls and then his sheath again, growing more and more tense and desperate as blunt anthro claws tickled his tip and the smothering hood and broad sturdy straps held him captive through every buck, every thrust, every grunt or huff or growl... Pleasure and panic whirled through him together, each heightening the other, driven higher with each passing moment by the anthro's touch, by the unrelenting grip of the restraints and the chastity cage, by the powerlessness he was trying as hard as he could to prove wrong!

Until something in Trescall surged, until [i]lust[/i] shoved aside his dread, the aching of his sheath straining for freedom grew stronger and stronger and then-- With a muted yowl and a tremor that shook his whole body he came, ecstasy and pent-up tension colliding through pleasure and maddening throbbing restraint, made worse still when the anthro's touch stopped with a yelp of surprise--yet the orgasm surged ahead with suddenly no sensation except the intense trapped ache from fighting against that cage! He arched against the straps, his hips twitching back and forth as that [i]moment[/i] of bliss was lost under a flood of denial, of empty release and spurting seed urged on by only the strain of pressing so hopelessly hard against the chastity...

Then he slumped feeling utterly spent, sore and exhausted and more humiliated than ever as the biped's giggles at his expense reached his earholes. "Oooohh, hehehee, oh [i]my,[/i] dragon... If that's how you really feel about your new station, you're going to fit [i]right[/i] in. We'll have to warn the ranch hands to be careful how hard they motivate you!"

"Mmmmmgh... Mmmmnnn... mmmmfff...!" His strength felt drained after the unwanted, horribly frustrating, unfulfilling climax; his limbs heavier, and his trapped shaft almost painfully sore and oversensitive caged in his sheath... yet despite the release he didn't feel satisfied at all. He only wanted out of the chastity cage even more badly! That orgasm had felt like strain and denial far more than pleasure, it hadn't felt satisfying, already he longed to be unlocked and feel [i]real[/i] relief, and through it all his snout burned, angry and frustrated and humiliated that she'd made him cum in such a predicament... That they had put him in their power so [i]utterly[/i] that they could make him do such a thing!

"Or maybe that they don't need to unlock you to reward you when you've been a really good dragon. They can always rent a stud from another ranch for your female stablemates after all, and make you cum like [i]that[/i] whenever you deserve it."

Another muffled, defeated groan. This couldn't be happening... couldn't have just happened... A strange vivid dream from the sedatives...

They gave his haunch a pat. The ride was even smoother now, the engine not nearly so labored; he would be off of his lands and onto theirs soon, and his fate already felt sealed, thoroughly defeated and under their control. All he could do now was suck air through the hood's holes positioned at his nostrils, his limbs trembling, the deep spent ache in his loins not letting him forget how badly he'd lost. "Good dragon. It won't be so bad if you just accept your place and behave... You'll do well on the ranch."

Trescall moaned in despair as his sheath pulsed and ached in its cage, as his heart thudded in his chest, as the machine carried its prize onward. How he'd succumbed made it feel impossible to deny it, to insist otherwise into the gag wedged beneath his hood... He could only dread and anticipate that he had just become one of their captive, caged beasts.