FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A sharp clap and a wide smile brought the class to its scheduled stop, a dozen exhausted children of various species, none more than six, sitting cross-legged on the floor before their teacher. The mouse who served as teacher was worn just as much, but years of experience had given her the stamina to at least not show it. With a quick adjustment of her glasses, she took her own position on a stool.

"You all did very well today! You're really coming along. Makes me proud to see you try so hard." The group beamed with their own pride; their teacher was perhaps laying it on a little thick, but she meant every word. "Get some water and a banana before you go, and keep doing your exercises at home. I'll see you next week!" With that the group scattered towards the door and their waiting parents. The teacher rose up and stretched, letting the familiar burn roll through her legs. She called it the 'dancer's afterglow', and even after fifteen years of professional dancing it never failed to leave her breathless.

"Nicole!" The mouse perked up at the approaching canine, a tiny chubby thing toting a clipboard stuffed to capacity with papers. "The parents are just raving about you out there. I don't know how you do it! Makes my legs ache just watching you." Nicole herself wouldn't be mistaken for a giant by any stretch, but the dog was short to her.

"Madeline, every time you hit one of those high notes of yours I can't help but feel jealous. So I think we're even." Nicole laughed, taking a drag of Gatorade and letting her legs rest for the briefest of moments between classes. "What brings you into my little corner of the academy, anyways?"

"Um...give me a second..." Papers flipped frantically, this way and that. Madeline had been pressed into service as administrator of the performing arts when the previous one retired, and despite her best intentions and utter dedication to the post it still left the poor dog scrambled.

Nicole shook her head. "Still haven't figured out the old dame's filing system?"

Madeline grumbled, muttering something to herself that the mouse couldn't quite make out. "Haven't I figured it out, she says. Fifty years she runs this circus, and then one afternoon they come to me and say 'Madeline, they're your clowns now'. Oy..." Flip flip flip. "They give Jennings in Lit an iPad. But me? 'Maddy, dear, that's just not in the budget'." The dog tossed her hands in the air and looked to the heavens for guidance. "Maybe a hand here? Too much to ask? Managers, meh."

"Is it this one?" Nicole poked at a page on top. "It says 'dance'."

"A miracle, a gosh-darned miracle right here. Yeah, it's yours, hallelujah and praise be." Madeline unclipped the sheet and tossed it to Nicole, slowly coming down from her irritation high.

Green eyes scanned the sheet, cringing openly. "Oh for...is it that time already?" It was kind of a summons, but instead of ending up in court, she was going to have to do one thing she dreaded more than anything.

"Afraid so, Nikki. It's time to drum up funds, and you're on the skins tonight."

Nicole's stomach flooded with acid, and she could feel the cold sweat prick up on her forehead. The academy had hired her on as a dance instructor without mentioning all the bureaucracy that came with it, and frankly the fund raising was the worst_of it! She was here to teach, darn it, not spend her evenings sitting and talking to moldy crones and smug stuffed suits about money for things they didn't really care about but that would look _great in the press.

"B-b-b-but I have a private lesson right then--"

Madeline shook her head. "You gotta have someone else take it, honey. Headmaster's orders." The dog sighed a little, half out of frustration and half out of concern, watching the mouse fidget and stammer. "You're head of a department. I know it drives you batty but it's just got to be done." Papers flipped again. "I tried to put you up front and get it done fast...it's the best I could do."

The mouse nodded a little, playing nervously with the cap on her water bottle. "Um...t-thank you, I...guess..."

"Treat it like a different kind of dance, maybe? Eh?" Madeline gave a cute little smile and shrug. Nicole just stared at her blankly as disaster scenarios took the stage in her head.

A half-hour later, Nicole sat in her office, twiddling her fingers and watching the clock closely. Every tick of the second hand was two beats of her racing heart. It was all she could do to throw up everywhere; a warm shower hadn't helped at all. Sure, she was clean and her hair was free from the tight bun that she wore in the studio, but it hadn't stopped her from sweating neurotically. Madeline hadn't been of any help at all, giving hokey 'motherly advice' before toddling off to a class of her own. The dog meant well but there was nothing to be done. Even a quick shot of sherry from the bottle she kept in her desk hadn't done more than make the edge a little fuzzier but still very distinct.

The intercom buzzed. Nicole didn't jump--she'd been waiting the whole while for it, filled with dread. It was the sound that meant things had started and her time in her element was over. Time to swim with the sharks and hopefully not drown too badly. Her fingers played over the edge of her bulky sweater, something that hung like a dress on her shorter frame. These things never went well and she'd hear about it if another funding drive left her department on the red end of the financial rainbow. They'd never close her down entirely but...it would be letting the kids down. And Nicole would never let the kids down.

"Miss DeMarco?" The receptionist tried to grab her attention when the buzzer didn't.

"Y-yes, Sofia?"

A polite cough. The desk staff here were anything if not professional, formal and structured. She thought it made them stuffy and aloof, but the Headmaster wanted it this way. It was an uptight academy, not for everyone. "Your four-thirty is here."

"Um, yes. Thank you. Send them in, yes. Please. Thank you." The intercom clicked sharply as the other end was cut off, leaving a lingering silence that was filled by the turn of a knob. "Oh! Ah, h-hello..." Nicole internally slapped herself for being startled by the sound of a darned door opening.

Then she forgave herself. Instead of the usual doddering old lady or smug, self-serving money farmer that usually darkened her doorstep, in walked a wolf. A younger one. Crouched was more appropriate; at what must have been eight feet tall if an inch, he struggled a little with the entry way, the ceilings just barely enough to move through. No terrible monster of the forests was he, though, not in attire or demeanor. Grey and brown pelt immaculately groomed and clad in a suit that cost more than she probably made all month, the canine cut a most distinctly fetching image of professionalism and proper bearing, his stance strong and stride full of purpose. And his scent was captivating, a subtle cologne that wasn't meant to drown people around him in chemical stench but instead accentuated his own natural smell. There was something vaguely familiar about it, but Nicole dismissed it as a common brand.

The wolf cut across the room in two long strides, extending his arm to the diminutive mouse, his fist almost the size of her head. "Miss DeMarco, I presume?" Her heart fluttered at that voice, deep as a canyon...

"Um, yes, Mis-mister--" Slim fingers fumbled through her paperwork, having forgotten nearly everything she'd planned. Fudge! "--Mister Linnaeus." A curious pause. "No last name?"

Linnaeus shook his head gently and made his best effort to sit in the offered chairs. Somehow, he managed it, though the size difference made it look rather comical. "No. It's the one eccentricity I allow myself."

Nicole nodded, rubbing the base of one ear nervously, trying to relax. "So, Mister Linnaeus, about your proposal application." The scent...what was it, what was it about that cologne that kept poking at the back of her mind like a finger, trying to get her attention? It made her sweat, the rims of her ears hot, hair matting against her neck. "A donation, according to the application?"

It hit her like a Mack truck to the cerebellum and made stars dance in her eyes. Nicole made a tiny squeak, recollection rushing back into her mind and washing out reality.

The club. She didn't know the name of it. It was big and loud and dark and crowded with people, the kind of people who wouldn't know her even if they got up close and pressed their flesh right to hers. Which had happened more than a few times. Here, she could be a different person. Clad in heavy pants with lights all across their length and a PVC body that made her breasts into a museum display behind a struggling zipper, sneakers and a thong that split her nearly exposed ass like the center line of a highway, no one would mistake her for the neurotic dance instructor from uptown. Never.

The wolf shifted his legs in his chair and shook his head, offering a professional smile. "That and more, Miss DeMarco." He must not have heard her little gasp. Good, good. She couldn't have explained that away. "On behalf of the board of directors, I'm prepared to offer an annual donation of one hundred thousand dollars, thirty thousand of which would be earmarked directly for your department."

_He had come up on her from the shadows in a moment between songs. The mouse could not avoid the spotlight. A little showoff, one who took every opportunity to flaunt what she had to a sea of eyes and ears. The wolf. A towering pillar of masculinity, poured into a mesh shirt and a pair of leather pants that cupped his bulge like a pair of hands. Nikki had trouble keeping her eyes above his belt as they spoke in shouted, chopped words, struggling to be heard over the throbbing bass from every direction. _

"That's a very generous offer!" Nicole concentrated hard, willing the techno beats in her head down to a tolerable volume. She needed to be here, in the current moment, in reality. "Why is your employer so interested in our academy, though? If you don't mind me asking." The mouse sat against the edge of her desk and crossed her thighs, thanking her lucky stars that she had coverage to her knees and tights that could breathe...

Their respective sizes forced him to bend over to her, one palm against the wall, shaggy head coming to rest near her forehead. The other scooped along her waist, cupping her ass in a hand that could have served as a chair. Her tail lashed behind her to a tempo all its own, face flushed, eyes filled with the broad expanse of his chest and torso. He was cut. God, was he cut, cut from earthy brown granite with a master's hand. And his scent--strong cologne mixed with sweat and natural musk, a cocktail that made her head spin, erasing the other bodies just inches away.

The speakers flared to life with a new song, a favorite of hers, one that never failed to push her body into ludicrous gyrations. Tonight, her lupine paramour joined her, both of them twisted and folded, spinning, stomping, jumping to the song as it built higher and higher, taking them with it. She struggled to breathe and not from the exertion as her blue eyes drank in every inch of him. The music carried her away, aroused her, drove her distraction.

Linnaeus gave a small shrug and a chuckle. "Their goal is almost strictly public relations. I'm sure you understand that they're not in the business of altruism for its own reward." Nicole joined in the laugh, nodding. Very few people gave money just because they could. "I guided them towards your school because I personally feel the arts are endangered, and it would be genuinely beneficial to everyone involved."

Nicole allowed a weak smile, bucked teeth on display, ears perked. He meant that. Most didn't. "You mentioned that there was more, though, more than just a grant?"

The song had segued into another, then another. Each dance grew stronger and hotter, threatening to light a bonfire on the dance floor. By the last her entire body bloomed red under the short gray fur and sweat dripped from her forehead. It was like climaxing a hundred times, head clouded with euphoria, muscles aching in delight. The brown wolf had kept up effortlessly, perhaps reducing his contortion but never slowing down.

She looked into his eyes, catching the glimmer in the lights of the club. A moment of silence passed between them.

Within minutes the dance floor was a memory, the heavy bass following them to the private VIP lounge. She didn't ask why he had a key or even who he was; there simply hadn't been time. Before the door had even clicked shut completely he had hefted her off the floor as if she weighed nothing, yanking her pants to her knees, planting the impossibly broad surface of his tongue into her soaking, needy pussy, yanking the band of her bodysuit away with his teeth to slather her in saliva all the way from her clit to her asshole...

Nicole shook her head firmly, making her hair bounce as she worked out that fantasy, pulling in a deep breath and telling it to please fuck off until she could properly deal with it. The wolf who populated both worlds raised an eyebrow slightly. "Are you alright, Miss DeMarco?"

She nodded quickly, putting her hair back to rights behind her ears and adjusting her hem into place. "Had bit too much caffeine today, I think. Or maybe the cafeteria food was off more than usual. You know how it is." The mouse put on her best 'everything is alright' smile, accented with a weak titter, and put her hands to her lap. "You were saying?"

Linnaeus looked unconvinced but chose not to press the point. "Yes, as I was saying. I would like to personally offer to set up a grant for underprivileged students who are looking to transition to the arts. Something of an extra opportunity for those who do without."

The mouse was pressed against the glass that looked down on the club floor. Downstairs, hundreds of bodies gyrated to the newest, most electrifying beats in the world. Upstairs, with her bodysuit unzipped, buoyant tits were flattened by the cool surface of the window, one of the bejeweled nipple rings tugged by a thick finger on every downbeat of the song. His pants pulled off and tossed aside, the wolf's massive endowment filled her to capacity, snatch stretched until it ached, weeping honey down her thighs and onto the carpet. Tiny hands were balled into fists and her toes curled in her sneakers. A foot? A foot and a half? The count didn't matter. The dark phallus speared its tapered tip in until there was no more room to go and just a little further, dripping thick streams of precome inside her to lubricate the way. Every move made the mouse squeal and writhe, nerves seizing and popping, short circuiting.

"I know that usually grants are reserved for famous people, or people related to the school," he continued, patiently ignoring the mouse's rising temperature, the way her ears fluttered and her feet shifted repeatedly against the carpet. "My grandmother was something of a dancer." He laughed. "If you consider that sort of burlesque thing to be dancing. She certainly did."

She sank her teeth into a pillow and cinched her eyes shut until tears welled up at the corners as the wolf pushed the first handful of inches under her tail, arms wrapped around the poor damaged upholstery. Even with all the lube in the club--and there were considerable amounts--a cock that big needed to be careful when pushing into the snug confines of an ass as tight as hers. Legs wrapped with corded muscle went straight out behind her, knees locked tight, the only thing left of her 'costume' the pair of gaudy shoes that glimmered in the darkness of the lounge. He began to fuck her, fuck her right up the ass, slow strokes giving way to progressively deeper and strong pushes that made the globes of her glutes sway...

Nicole nodded in short sways of her chin. It was getting ridiculously hard to concentrate. Even in those fleeting lucid moments her brain teased her, drawing her dry eyes to the way Linnaeus' chest shifted under his crisp white shirt, how his legs filled out his tailored slacks, and how even with careful planning you could make out the lines of his maleness if you stared hard enough... She was sure the wolf could smell her arousal by now, and this conversation would probably be derailed in no time.

"T-there-there's nothing wrong with that kind of dancing! V-v-v-very iconic, and it required talent all its own." Nicole swallowed hard and reached for the bottle of water she always kept on her desk, panicking slightly when she couldn't find it. She'd already drank the whole thing? When?! She couldn't remember.

They laid together on the sofa, the mouse flat on her back against the wolf's front. Neither knew the other's name--they hadn't bothered with that part. She was soaked in him, his come spread from her chin to her knees, thick and potent, as a man his stature should be. He had carried her to the bar and fetched a few bottles of water, never once letting her free from his grip, flaccid cock bouncing with his steps. It was good he had, because in her present condition she could scarcely walk. Her pussy was satiated and satisfied, spread wide open, dripping with their mixed fluids. It would be days before she could sit down...

A large hand touched her shoulder and handed her a plastic container, pressing it into her palm when she didn't reach immediately. "Take this." His voice was calm and steady, commanding but not dominating. It was aid for one who couldn't help themselves, one adult to another, the wolf's muzzle pulled into a soft smile. Nicole downed the entire bottle in a few draws, feeling almost instantly better as the cool water seeped into her body and put out a few small fires. The bigger ones were immune, but there would be other things for that.

"Mis...Mister Linnaeus." Nicole adjusted her glasses up on her face, exhaling slowly. "I think we can work out the rest of the details via email, or over the phone. It's all paperwork from here on out, really boring stuff." With a small laugh she handed him her contact card. "I'm _sure_you have better things to be doing than sitting here in my stuffy office."

He nodded, shook her hand, and was on his way. As soon as she was sure he was well out of sight, Nicole ducked quickly into her private shower, throwing her impossibly hot sweater over her shoulder as she went. Hopefully no one else came calling, because she would be busy for quite a while.

Nearly an hour later, Nicole DeMarco had fallen into something of a stupor in her shower, completely naked and seated on the tiles, water cascading down on her from the unremarkable showerhead. A dildo, something a friend had given her as a joke gift at a Christmas party years before, sat wedged firmly inside her ass; four matted fingers rested just inches from her swollen pussy. A trio of orgasms had done the job, but she was wiped out.

It would pass.

In her office, the teacher's mobile phone buzzed and beeped, trying to tell her there was a text message from an unknown number. Attached was a picture of a pair of thickly muscled legs wrapped up in pair of black leather pants, a distinctly_aroused cock of _substantial girth stuffed in the pouch between them.

It said only a few words: "I can keep a secret."

END