FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

You want to know the first thing on my mind the moment I woke up? That it was warm and comfortable. Of course the moment I opened my eyes the full irony of that set in. Frigid air that made my breath mist over the walls and ice slick the floor. Hard cobblestone beneath me and rusted iron bars between me and the only source of light.

I could smell sweat and piss, the air itself tasted of violence and regret and insanity all rolled into one as if the room contained the cast off remains of someone else's hatred.

Waking up sore, battered, with cracked scales and an aching belly without so much as a mat or a blanket to catch the warmth. This was comfortable when compared to what I'd just been through. This cell? Yeah it all felt pleasant by contrast, and that was just awful.

Groaning awake and staggering onto four feet, the cell wasn't exactly as big as one would expect. On those cop shows every jailhouse was huge and crafted with precision, more than enough room to at least pace around. But my head was already brushing into the rooftop, my shoulders were so close to the walls and the bars that it was awkward to turn around. Not impossible, just have to squeeze my head into my flank and then twist. Yes it's as painful as it sounds.

My tail was forced to curl up all the way to my shoulders, and there wasn't anything in the way of accommodations in here.

But vertical iron bars are reserved for only one thing, and if this wasn't a jail cell then I'd eat my tail. Must be a cell meant for tiny foxpeople rather than full sized dragons though. And I guess that makes sense, few dragons travel to places this far out of the way at all, let alone dragon criminals who'd end up needing to be locked away.

Wincing at my own thoughts, the realization that I am now a dragon criminal started to sink in. Just what did I do? Walk into a pleasure house and then get beat up by the prostitutes? Well sure I ended up smashing through a lot of the building but it's not like that was my fault! Was I supposed to be expected to pay for it? All of my stuff was stolen by the same people who beat me up!

That darned fox and orc. How did an orc even get here, it's not like they're all that common either. Aren't they usually in deep forests or near open plains, not places like a frost covered mountain. Er, wait ... that's worse actually. If they do any serious traveling and I have to chase them down, then it could take forever to complete my ritual.

I'll need help, someone who knows where everything is at least. And I need to not be inside a prison cell. And I need food. And a bit of sleep maybe, though this cramped little stone box isn't going to do my back any favors.

Flopping back down with a hard thump, my chin smashing into the floor and making it crack slightly. Didn't hurt me a bit, though did highlight that I should stop getting angry before I end up breaking through the jailhouse by accident. That would be even harder to explain, and they might make the punishment even worse!

Yeah, plan here is to sit and wait and hope those two thieves don't get very far. Then just explain myself to the nearest warden or judge or whoever talks to me. Should I ask for a lawyer? Wait, no. Most places outside of dragonic domain use Kings and Lords and stuff, lawyers just don't exist in most of the world.

But surely sensible people do, and I can just be polite. Yeah.

Waiting. And more waiting. And my eyes closing to the sound of scrapes on iron.

What was that?

Planting my nose to the bar I call out, not quite a shout but clearly loud enough to be heard. The sound of creaking, grinding metal echoes through a long dark hallway lined with numerous other cells.

"Hello?"

The footsteps stop. Then start up again, padding closer.

I can just about spot the hint of two red dots floating in the air, before they wink away and I'm left gazing into the pure black of an unlit room. Not freaky at all. Nope. Clearly not a ghost or anything, that would just be weird.

"HEY! I'm uh ... I'm Kenneth, w-who are you?" I call again in a bold and valiant tone. That's my story and you can't prove otherwise.

The drip of water falling off some distance ice sickle, the faintest hint of breathing that I was pretty sure must be my own. The welling fog as white, billowing breath rises above my face.

Out of the corner of my eye there seemed to be a blob of white, low to the ground and padding closer from the opposite side. With a jolt I turned my muzzle to look at it and backed away into the far wall. More grinding, the horrific screech of metal rending apart. And turns out I'd ended up leaving a face-print in the iron bars, bulging out the bottom ...

Ooops ...

"W-wwooah, okay big fella, calm down!" a gruff voice whispered, coming out from that blob of white. Well, white and pink. And round. And lots of fur ...

"HEY! You're that mouse!" I blurted out the moment I recognized him from the tavern. He looked so different when everything was either white or pink, fluffy white poof hair along the entire midsection with spots of pink along the ears and nose, the hands and feet, that huge stringy tail on his backside. The smaller droopy tail on his front ...

"Sshhh, quiet there! Be quiet you overgrown liza-"

"Why are you naked?" I couldn't help but ask. The guy was maybe about twice the size of my hand, and once I realized what those shapes in the darkness actually meant it was impossible not to stare. I mean, what? He has that between his legs? It's just not fair! If I had one in the same proportions it'd be ridiculous!

"Shut up!" he gasped out with a drastic urgency, the ire in his eyes enough to make me pause.

"Fine, I'm quiet. Sorry." I mumble as low as I could. There must be a legitimate reason for this of course, maybe it was ... too ... warm. And he needed to take clothes off to cool down. Hrm.

The rodent looked over his shoulder and seemed to be far less nervous than I was, and leveled his steely gaze across my face. The darkness made him look a bit more intimidating, though the circumstances around him were just adorable and hilarious.

"I came to ask you for some help."

"OH! I love helping people!"

"Quieeeeet, shushit! Shuuush!" he reaches a petite little paw through dented bars and plants them across my muzzle. "Here's the deal, all of my stuff is locked inside another room just down the hall. I can't pick the lock with my claws and it's way too heavy to just bust down on my own. BUT! I can't leave without getting all of my stuff back. It's very important stuff, you see?"

Speaking around his paw, my voice was hardly muffled on account of the fact I had no lips to distort. "Why not just wait until trial is over and let them give you the stuff back?"

" ... are you stupid or something? There isn't going to be a trial."

"W-what do you mean? This is a jail cell, they have to follow the law."

He stared at me blankly. The way it looked like his brain was about to explode in front of me didn't make me feel any better.

"That's not how it works here, I ... ugh, look. You're a dragon, right? An honest to blood, real life dragon. Yes?"

I nod a bit too enthusiastically. Dragons were the best race in this entire world, and had what was objectively the best culture. To say you were a dragon was a proud thing, and I habitually puffed my chest out while affirming the words.

"One hundred percent guaranteed dragon." The urge to say I was a prime example of my kind was strong, but lying was mean.

"Right. Now do you know what the strongest kind of armor is. The most expensive, highest quality armor that every fighter or adventurer wants to get their hands on somehow."

That had me stumped, I wasn't really the adventurer sort before this whole situation with the Orb, and once I get my full powers it's not like I'm going to travel around for the fun of it. Stay home, help out people in the local community, and hope the belly busting doesn't impact my life too heavily in ways magic can't make up for it. I honestly had no idea what people who quest for a living would want, and the way this was framed made it sound like a trick question.

"Iron ... full ... plate?" Though it embarrassed me to sound so unsure, the words he gave back, so full of barely restrained frustration, were more chilling than the air. His mood tasted of desperation and pity, and his tone spoke volumes.

"Dragonhide armor. Kid, these folk are poor and they don't like dragons much. Soon as the mourning comes they're going to pin all the damage charges on you, give you a death sentence as you can't pay for broken walls or shattered roof. Then they're gonna take a knife to your belly and strip all your scales off." The rodent's words were rapidfire, and everything about him seemed rushed. How long until sunrise came? "So the important question for you is whether or not you think you can avoid getting a stab to the gut. How lucky are ya feeling right now?"

It didn't take me long at all to reach certain conclusions here.

"I have to get out of here."

"Will you help me?"

"Oh by the gods I have to get out of here! I ... I can't die here!"

"Stop. Panicking. Now."

"Dad will never know what happened! A-and then I'll be worn as some suit, a-and then ... and then ..."

"None of that happens if you leave the dog gammned cell! Now we have to hurry and you need to stop being such a Ninny! You help me get through the doors a few rows down and I'll help you get out of this cell, do we have a deal?"

"B-but ... but breaking out ..."

"Do we have a SQUEAKING deal!"

Gulping nervously, I nodded. Panic won't help here, and this guy seemed to know what was happening. I pushed my claw forward to shake his hand on it, and accidentally tore off one of the cell bars with a loud screech. The rodent glared at me while swatting my claws.

"Stop making so much ... ugh, just be quiet for a few moments." Leaping onto the bars, digging his fingertips inside the oversized padlock, and fiddling around with the mechanical stuff inside until a few noticeable clicks sound out. My door starts to swing open, but the bent sections make it catch halfway through.

I offer a sheepish grin to his angry stares.

"Sorry."

"Just shove through and follow behind me, alright?" he darts off toward the better illuminated

Shoving through was honestly easier than I expected, the hardest part was being quiet about it when those flimsy little bars would make screeching grinding sounds any time I so much as brushed against them. What would happen if guards did come along and found out I ruined one of their nice jail cells? Probably the same thing that would happen if I were on my best behavior, if this rat guy was correct.

He padded forward in a silent slither as if his snow white fur had become one with the shadows around, a mere patch of discolored wall or a blob of shade creeping it's way forward. The man kept low to the ground and sprawled all of his limbs into a crawling walk, always keeping his body in such a way that there was never a clear silhouette.

When I walked it was clicks and scrapes and all sorts of loud shuffling while my shoulders almost touched from one side of the hallway to the next. No way I'd be able to turn around without rending open more cell bars, though with the whole building looking like a thick stone I was probably safe bumping into the roof or the walls. Cramped and claustrophobic to the point it felt like delving into a hidden dungeon tunnel, I couldn't stay quiet for long.

"H-how ... how did they even get me in this building?" I whispered with all the subtly of a trumpet in a thunderstorm. I did not expect my voice to echo so badly.

"An orc can lift you." He answers easily without taking his eyes off the hall. He wasn't walking forward, he was flowing at a steady yet unhurried pace.

"Oookay, but what does that have to do with anything?" Losing a fight to an orc is not something I want to admit. "A-and if you uh, take what happened in the other, you know, other building as evidence here, t-then I need to politely inform you that uuuhhh, it was just a fluke. I could take on a hundred silly Orcs if they didn't sneak up and blindside me while I'm vulnerable."

He turns his head, and the only way I can tell in the dim lighting is because a spot of pink rotates around the top of the white bloby-shape.

"The Kitsune and the Orcs are allies. There's more than one Orc in this villiage."

"O-oh ..." Suddenly the need to save face wasn't nearly as important. "W-well uh, what I meant to say was that in a direct fight with uh, no I mean there was ..."

"STOP!" he whispers harshly, to which I was left scrambling in place and shutting my jaws tight. How is it that I'm standing in front of a naked fuzzy thing and somehow I'm more embarrassed than he is? "There's a trap here."

That caught my attention.

"What kind of trap?"

"The king that gores your belly open if you blunder right into it. Don't move." And then far more slowly than before, he presses his nose and claws to the damp pavement and starts messing with some markings on the floor.

I took this moment to glance ahead, noting there was a T intersection with a corner coming up, darkness on the right while there was light shining from the left. In the center was a sturdy looking wooden door that seemed maybe big enough for my hands to fit through. Yet for the rodent it was twice his size, making the poor thing seem like a child in a house for grownups.

Then I spotted what he was working with, pulling out a folding lid of wood that been painted to look like the surrounding stone, and inside the holes beneath were layered rows of spearheads. All glistening black and solid wood, some slick with the damp water spilling through. I shuddered at the idea of having those jab into my stomach. Would it stab me and pierce through? I know I've taken heavy hits before but I have no idea how much force goes into those spears. And if I was going to get hit anywhere, the soft belly is the only place those things could reach.

"This looks like a dangerous trap." I whisper, trying to keep my tail from twitching.

"More than you know, it's rigged to make a loud thunder noise if it's set off or disabled. I can mess with the lines here to keep the spears from poking up, but then there's nothing stopping the noisemaker from going off. Unless ..." he seems to be thinking, and before my eyes he takes those tiny little pink hands with the most adorable white claws, and starts tearing off the spearhead on each of the shafts. Taking the string that was tying the spearhead on, and the spearheads themselves, then using them to pin the lids in place. String to hold it down tight, pointed spearhead jabbed into the joint to make it harder to open.

There was more than one spear though, which meant me breathing over the rodent's back as he worked, tail twitching back into my chin.

One, then another, and another.

His ears fold back when I snort into his hair, and the look he gives me was enough to stop me from breathing all together.

"Done." He'd state after having only cleared a third of the spears, stepping over with a wide lunge. "Just avoid this line of stones here, and this line of stones here. So long as you can step over them, no noise and none of them go off. This is a nasty trap though, doesn't just stab up once with a simple spring. Nope, these things are resetting and try to jab you multiple times as they go in and out. Must be some way turn it off near controls or ... hrm. The armory maybe. Otherwise guards would get a stick shoved right beneath their tail any time they walk by."

His words did not inspire much faith in the competency and kindness of the city guards here, especially if they use lethal traps to keep their prisoners in place. Did they not just have stun guns or security cameras? Guess not.

"Okay, so just step over and then ... to the left or right?"

"We're going straight ahead." He moves forward without me, making sure to peak around the corner first. "I need you to take this door here, and do so as quietly as possible. All of my stuff is in there, all of your stuff is in there, and I can't pick the lock with just my claws."

"Take out ..." I mulled over the words, looking at the stone wall and the wooden doorway. "You mean just smash it up? Won't that make a lot of noise?"

"Too late for that twinkle-toes." He answers quickly. "I don't think there's any way to just sneak you out of town, even if you manage to somehow crawl past every guard in the early morning without waking anyone up. Just smash it, we grab our stuff, and then we leave before anyone has time to mobilize."

Already he was shooting across from wall to wall, bracing up next to the doorway ahead while keeping just far enough to one side that I didn't need to worry about stepping on him. Thoughts of being chased out of town by an army of thousands upon thousands of fox people armed with pitchforks jumped into mind. This is not at all how I planned for the adventure to go.

"Right, thanks for helping me." I state with a gentle whisper, stepping forward and trying to keep my claws well away from the pressure points he'd shown me. Nervous twinge through my spine knowing those jabbing poles were riiiiiight bellow my belly, but I didn't stumble and there was no freak accident to fill my life with pain.

I was over the trap without trouble, at least mostly. Hallway was too small for me to step completely past it, and so some of my tail was forced to hang above and hope I didn't let it droop far enough down to touch.

"This door right here? Okay. Here goes nothing." This was clearly a task that would require some thought. I'm not exactly a strong dragon, the stone was far too thick to even consider bursting through, and that wood looked incredibly sturdy. Aged hardwood perhaps, appearing to be at least two or three feet thick. The handle was remarkably tiny, but of course it was sized for foxes and kitsune rather than any of the more glorious races.

It was all I could do to slide a single claw through the loop, bracing my arms for a hard pull, and then ... snap. The handle pulled off the door with an effortless crunch, pulped wood and the echo of sticks breaking bounced down the halls. With a pained wince, I let the brass handle slide off my fingertips and glared at the door itself.

Maybe if I just claw through the wood? That would probably hurt my fingernails a lot, but I could do it. Better to clean splinters out from under your claws than to end up made into some rich person's hand-bag. Yet another unavoidable crunch when I simply place my open hand to the doorway and squeeze it inside. Expecting hard resistance and aching claws, my other three legs braced into the floor and every muscle in my body tensed. Breath held in tight suspension while ---

CRACK!

Tumble.

Eyes wide, the door didn't hold for even half a moment, being little more than a thin sheet of some hilariously flimsy wood so weak it might as well have been cardboard, which was so far away from three feet thick that I half wondered if it was going to crumple in my hands like paper. And if the doorway was weak, the hinges holding it in place were practically nonexistent.

All of my weight leaned backward, all of my efforts focused on trying to pull something I could have casually pushed aside ...

I stumbled backward one step, then two, before falling belly-first on top of those pressure points.

"Squeakdammit."

No. NOOoooo. NOOOOOOOoooooooo!!!

By the gods I wanted to scream, but I couldn't even hear myself think. I wanted to stand up and pull away from the horrendous pain, but it was just too quick to even register. One-twoonetwoonetwoonetwo, in and out and in and out, blunted poles being shoved upward in alternating rows by what had to be something akin to motorized pistons, and every single one of them rammed hard into my gut, placed right alone the belly button and hammering away along that line.

Fast and solid, the poles jabbed up into the hide of my gut and squeezed in deep, feeling far more like I'd been stabbed than the wrecking balls an orc's fist was able to showcase, only without the decency to actually kill me. Or even penetrate skin. Meanwhile as one pole was starting to retract, two more poles jabbed up into a different location. Squeezing organs aside, pushing deep into the fat of my belly, forcing my back to arch in just instinctual effort to draw away from them.

GAH! The roof was too low to avoid them, and the stone was too strong to break through!

Three more poles, then two, then one right into my belly button, yet another punching into my side, then two more, and another three. At least when I was getting pummeled into the ground by that damned orc it was only one or two strikes a second, this here was just an endless flurry of non-stop belly blows over and over, all strung to the sound of a screeching whistle drowning out all noises and the ever-present ...

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump thumpthumpthumpthumpthump

Have to break away, but can't move. There must be some way to stop the trap, but how?! That noise is going to alert everyone that there's a breakout attempt, and then people will come running. People with weapons and thoughts of money. Ohgodno I don't want this, please just make it stop! PLEASE!

Thumpthumpthump,

Over and over, a good foot or two deep into my belly to the point that soft gut was all but folded in half, red welts appearing as the pokes always jabbed into the exact same spot every single time. They pulled back only to gather more momentum on the next slam, and there were always so many poles moving so quickly that my poor gut never got the chance to fold back out.

This was so impossibly, unbelievably worse than something that merely jabs into the gut and stays there, this was somehow my gut being shoved in on itself with one harsh strike, only to feel that exact same strike continue on without even a moment to catch your breath. My aching belly tried to expand back out, which just meant it was falling forward at the same moment the poles were jabbing up.

Never a single point to focus on, far more than just one pain to ignore, and there just wasn't any room to pull away from it.

Go backward? That exposes more of my gut to the poles and just means I'm getting battered all up and down my front! Start crawling forward? Even if I could move my arms or do anything beyond a strained gasp, the opposite problem of exposing my hind legs to those poles presented itself. I may not be as comparatively well hung as the rat, but I do not want certain places getting this kind of treatment.

And yet with both of those options in mind staying here wasn't appealing either. Strike, and strike, and strike, a mechanical relentlessness that offered no hesitation and showed no sign of slowing down, if I didn't get myself out then I'd be stuck here all night. So I reach ...

I scrape ...

My claws grinding against the stone floor in a shower of sparks, jaw gaping wide and eyes bulging almost as wide as my palms. There was no breath, no time to suck in or push out, just a constant whine of pain being drowned amongst a sea of blaring alarms. Desperate claws pulled, tearing a long gash through the stone and blunting the tips of each claw, leaving behind blackened shards that broke off and a rounded knub where the serated edge had once been.

ThumpThumpthumpthump ...

I didn't care! Just move, just pull, push, stand up, anything! And in that moment my legs buckled underneath me and the pain sent me sprawling down, full weight of my gut applied to the floor. My belly never touched, though my rump and face were left drooping down either side. The mechanical strikes going with enough force and a consistent enough speed that I was kept held off the ground via sheer force of rapid-fire belly blows.

This couldn't be real, this had to be a dream somehow. A nightmare, or maybe just the result of taking the wrong drugs without knowing it. Oh gods why is this happening, wwhhyyyy!?

Just as I was giving up on hope for any sort of comfort, the poles stopped jabbing me and my entire gut flopped onto the floor with a resounding "CLAP!" and somehow the localized pressure point of a thin pole going to one specific area just didn't compare to the solid smack of my entire belly slapping into the floor at once. A slap is what it felt like, the dull sting that leaves a tingle of pain without penetrating very deep, only this sensation of ache was felt across my entire tummy at once.

Belly flop onto water is painful. An unexpected belly flop onto hard cement is far worse.

"Uughgh ..." I let out a weak groan, tears flowing down my cheeks and my legs uselessly trying to worm back underneath for support. I could almost convince myself that I was tough and dangerous for having taken on the orc and fox in a fight, even holding out for a while. But against a trap like this I might as well have been a mewling kitten for all the good draconic scales were doing me.

And of course that's the point when the rodent boy comes in, poking his head out of the armory door while two bits of furred clothing were strung over his shoulders and a number of small bags were tied or wrapped around his waist. Still naked, which while embarrassing did at least mean he wasn't callous enough to calmly get dressed while I was wailing in pain.

"H-hey. Psst. HEY!" he shouts more than whispers, his voice laced with a panicked edge. "Turned off the traps, there was a master control in the room over. You okay?"

"No." nothing anywhere would ever be okay, so long as gut-buster traps like this actually existed.

"Well too bad because the guards already know something's up. We need to move, now, and that means you need to get up."

I close my eyes and try to make my squeal of agony as dignified as possible. High pitched and whimpering with shaky limbs? Yeah that could be dignified. If a better actor was doing it for me.

That's when I heard footsteps. I heard the echoing clash of metal clanking on stone, of muttering voices saying indistinct but angry sounding words. There was only one real question to ask, because if I can't move then I'm not going to make it out of here anyway. And if this rodent can, then there's no reason for me to hold him back.

I'd like to think I can move, and that I'm simply procrastinating.

"Which way do we go?" I asked through shaking breath and a coughed out sputter. No time to lean back and stretch my belly of course, no matter how badly I wanted to, and so the sheer wraparound ache that came from my entire stomach at once was just something I'll have to suffer through.

"Toward the light, make it to the front doors, rush past anyone who isn't directly in your way, and don't slow down for anything." The rodent latches onto my horns and starts climbing, placing himself near the back of my head. I had no idea how to feel about that, nothing had ever tried to ride me before. Most dragons would bite if anyone made the attempt.

Still didn't want to move, even if I managed wobbling onto four legs and not screaming in blind horror at how the welts and sensation of a tender bruise across my whole tummy just wasn't going away. But I'd like to think I could move if I had really wanted to, just a matter of waiting for the right time. Biding the moments, laying in wait for that perfect time to leap.

"And then once o-outside ... go up the mountain right?"

He taps the back of my head and loops his legs around my throat. Straddling my neck and shoulders with his bare crotch pressing against my spine and a ridiculously soft, blindingly warm bit across his front poking between my horns. "Far up the mountain as we can, folk won't want to follow us and it will be easier to find one of those caves we can shelter in. You ready to go?"

More footprints, only now I could see shadows ...

It was now the perfect time to start moving.