FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

After another day of cleaning and fixing the ship that was always in constant need of repairs, the exhausted raccoon stood in front of a broad bay window, gazing out into the seemingly infinite stars as he smoked a cigarette. The ship was mostly silent for how late it was, the steady drone of the overhead fan pulling up the cigarette smoke cutting through the somewhat eerie silence. He had only been on the ship for just over a month and already regretted his decision in signing a contract that barred him to a year of service. It wasn't as if he really had anywhere else to go when no one else was willing to offer him a job after an unfortunate accident he caused that he didn't really like to discuss. Despite their sordid reputation, when he heard The Ladies of Crimson were hiring he was quick to jump at the chance. He knew a group of mercenaries would be one of the few to ignore his blacklisted status and was willing to take the sharp pay cut if it meant some kind of income.

In the time he had spent there, he had yet to make a connection with anyone. He hadn't had a single pleasant encounter with the lead members of the team, especially their captain Scarlet. She gave him a bad impression from the start with her sharp mood swings and how quickly she was prone to violence. From the time he lived on the ship, he had never once seen her sober. How a drug addicted sociopath like herself had become captain of anything was beyond him. The mercs treated him as if he was beneath them. Constantly tossing litter on the floors, never cleaning up a single mess they made. They figured if they were paying him, they shouldn't do his job for him. It was a tiring job and he was very underappreciated at that. At least during nights like this when everyone was asleep, he was finally able to just relax without worry about any more service calls.

The radio clipped on his belt suddenly crackled to life

"Hey Wheatley! Get your ass to the locker room ASAP. I don't know what the hell happened, but I think a pipe is clogged or something cause we got some nasty shit coming up from the drains in the shower!" the voice on the other end rapidly spat out through the static, a tinge of fear in their voice.

With a sigh of contempt, Paul banged his head against the cool window, snatching the radio and bringing it to his lips.

"Coming" he growled through his teeth, nearly cleaving through the filter of his cigarette.

Paul stood in silence for a moment, closing his eyes and taking the cigarette butt from his lips. He placed the filter into a quarter sized hole built into the wall that was designed to dispose of such waste, hitting a button which sealed the hole and ejected the cigarette butt into space, watching it keep its momentum and slowly fade from view, engulfed by the black void. At his feet laid an abundant amount of discarded cigarette filters, both old and new. Apparently hitting a button to properly dispose of them was too big a chore for the slobs that called themselves mercenaries. He had cleaned the floor in the morning and they had already undid the work he did, knowing he would need to clean them up tomorrow morning so the process could repeat itself again.

The abrupt sound of static brought him back to reality "ARE YOU FUCKING DEAF PAUL?! LOCKER ROOM. NOW." the voice barked from the other end.

The raccoon tore the radio from his belt, hoisting it in the air, seconds away from spiking it on the ground in frustration. Paul stood there, practically foaming at the mouth, but regained his composure. Not wanting to have his wages docked for breaking issued equipment, he took a deep breath and hooked it back on his belt. Before he could get chewed out anymore, he picked up his toolbox, turned on his heel and started to walk the long corridor towards the locker rooms.

The interior of the ship had once had a very sterile aesthetic to it with the hallways having a bright white paint on the steel walls with the floor lined with faux white tiles, along with signs hung on the walls to give directions to each branch of the ship. Even if the ship was in its prime, he wouldn't have liked it, finding the hospital like appearance to be slightly unnerving. Sadly, the ship was far from pristine, with most of the walls covered in gashes and scratches from the crew moving equipment that chipped away the paint and exposed the cold grey steel underneath, along with unpatched bullet holes from the battle that won them the ship in the first place. The fake tiles had long lost their glossy finish, now looking scuffed and faded, giving them a dirty appearance regardless of how much they were scrubbed and mopped.

The handyman walked down the corridor, looking past the graffiti plastered on the signs to navigate his way towards the locker room, the sounds of his tools shifting around in his toolbox filling the silence of the halls. Finally, he walked into the locker room and took a quick around. The walls were lined with countless sets of lockers wrapping around the rectangular room, the ones that still had doors attached were painted a now faded blue. Wondering where the person that had radioed him was, he set down his tool box and took a peek inside the showers. The showers had rows of stalls for privacy, a luxury he was thankful to have aboard the ship considering the people he was surrounded by. Paul was both relieved and angry to find that the drains weren't backed up at all and the floor was spotless. He leaned down and checked under the stalls to find them all empty and each with a functioning drain.

"What the fuck?" he growled, getting back up and shaking his head, wondering if he had maybe went to the wrong locker room. "Does this ship even have more than one locker room?" he thought to himself, turning around to grab his toolbox when the lights suddenly went out, bathing the rooms in darkness.

"Oh, that's fucking swell" he hisses through his teeth, reaching out with his arms to blindly stumble through the room. The conjoined rooms were pitch black, the steady dripping of a leaky showerhead somehow sounding louder in the darkness. Paul felt uncomfortable in the pitch black, the noise of his breathing and work boots shuffling along the floor disorienting him as the sound bounced around the walls, seemingly coming from every direction. He froze in his tracks when he heard the sound of his tool box lid opening, the subtle squeak of the hinges giving away whoever was trying to quietly open it.

"H-h-hello?" he asked in a shaky voice, swallowing the lump in his dry throat. He held his breath and listened to the silence. After a few seconds that felt like ages in the darkness, he soon realized what he heard before wasn't a trick of his mind, his ears picking up the sounds of others breathing and moving around in the room. Struck with terror, he started to move out of the room, touching the cold metallic metal of the lockers to guide him, his hands frantically slapping against the metal doors to find his way out, freezing when his hands when from cold, unyielding metal to soft, warm fur.

Before he could open his mouth to scream, his body was lifted up by a number of hands and slammed down on the long bench sat in the middle of the room, the vicious impact knocking the air from his lungs. The tool box was knocked aside by someone stomping towards him, tools spilling from the overturned chest and clattering on the ground. Paul tried to say something, but his words were caught in his throat which was frozen in terror, only a weak squeak escaping his lips. Hushed whispering was heard around him, gasping in fright when he heard the sound of duct tape being pulled from the roll they had stolen from his toolbox. Two strong pairs of hands grabbed his arms and pulled them back under the bench, a third accomplice binding them together with multiple passes of the duct tape despite the desperate pleading of the raccoon who finally found his voice.

"P-Please! Don't hurt me! I-I-I-I'll do whatever you want!" he begged, his voice hectic and in vain, hoping the duct tape was the only thing they planned to use on him from his array of tools.

The lights were flipped back on, blinding the raccoon at the sudden brightness, his pupils shrinking as he shut his eyes. He cracked his eyelid open and spotted a row of silhouettes in front of the blinding florescent lights standing around him. With his eyes starting to adjust, he slowly opened the other and blinked the spots from his visions, taking in the sight of his captors. The full combat crew of the Ladies of Crimson stood around him, living contradictions as "Ladies" was a term far too nice to describe the lead members of the team. The women were of various species and body types, large and small, thick and thin. Some looked like they had been in multiple wars, faces brutalized and frozen in a constant expression of hatred, while other wore their ugliness on the inside, looking normal on the outside, but having severe mental issues and damage, making them unpredictable and far more terrifying than the others.

"Wha-what do you want from me?" he stammered, looking at each of their faces, hoping to get an answer from one of them, but only got hostile stares instead. The sound of someone clearing their throat was heard, their heads turning to the doorway, moving aside to let the owner of the voice approach. Paul struggled to lift his head up from the awkward position he was restrained to. His eyes fell upon the lanky, yet intimidating coyote who sauntered over to him, the assorted buckles on her long boots clinking together as she walked.

"Uh...Scarlet? What's going on here?" he looked up at her with a pleading stare, hoping she would put a stop to whatever her crew was planning to do to him.

The captain stood over him, exchanging looks with the others, before crouching down to get to his eye level, the rips in her tattered pants growing wider as her legs bent. The oversized brown coat she wore nearly touching the ground at this height, the front unzipped to show the white undershirt which was equally shabby with cigarette burns and oil stains. Her body constantly fidgeted and trembled, either from the influence of the drugs she was on or the ones she was suffering withdrawal from.

"What happened here?" she asked in an unusually somber tone, her foggy eyes looking into his own.

"Wha-What? That's what I'm trying to find out! You're crew attacked me and tied me up!" he shouted, his heart pounding in his chest.

He wasn't sure if she hadn't understood him or didn't listen to word of him. All she did was stare at him with the same distant gaze, his eyes darting around uncontrollably, making him uneasy.

"Who tied you up?" she asked in an accusing tone, seemingly angry at him as if it was his fault.

"Your crew! I JUST TOLD YOU!" he barked back, eyes wide in desperation, trying to point with his head at those surrounding them.

Scarlet turned and jumped in surprise, apparently forgetting that they weren't alone. The others chuckled and waved at her. She turned her attention back to him and crossed her arms, the sleeves of her coat rolled back to her elbows. After noticing his duct taped hands, the confused coyote looked back in his eyes.

"What happened here?" she asked again, this time with a smirk plastered on her face.

Paul was dumbfounded, convinced he was at the end of a particularly sinister prank. He stared back at the captain, unsure if she was toying with him or actually confused after god knows how many drugs she had ingested prior.

"You're crew attacked me." he said in a calm clear voice, making sure she could easily understand him this time.

Scarlet closed her eyes and chuckled softly, the dog tags dangling around her neck jingling as her chest bounced. She calmly stood up and put her hands on her hips, licking her dried cracked lips. The captain watched him intently as if she was waiting for him to say something. Before he could open his mouth to speak, she grabbed the collar of his coveralls, forcing her face against his, their noses touching.

"I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!" she screamed in his face, spittle flying from her mouth and landing on him. The coyote had fire in her eyes, her body trembling in anger, the scent of alcohol and cigarettes filling his nose as she panted.

"You didn't ask me anything" he whimpered, closing his eyes in panic

"WHO...TIED...YOU...UP!?" she hissed, her dried lips now bleeding from the way they contorted when she screamed, giving her already intimidating appearance more fear factor.

"Your crew! Your crew....it was your crew" he blubbered, confused and afraid.

"Oh! Yeah, I told them to do that" she giggled in a now cheerful voice, dropping him and hopping back to her feet.

"Good job ladies" she purred, the mercenaries nodding and thanking her for the compliment

"But....why?" he asked, not expecting a pleasant answer

Stepping to the turned over tool box, Scarlet bent down and picked up a utility knife from the ground, unfolding it and flashing the razor blade. The coyote straddled his lap and leaned down beside his face

"A team like us works hard and plays even harder. We see something we like and we take it" she grinned, pressing her hips against his, extorting a whine from the trapped raccoon. "And if we see something we don't like..." she pressed the razor's edge against his throat with a growl. "Now we've been out risking our lives to bring in the money so you can get a paycheck, while all you do is mop floors and scrub toilets. Well I think it's about time you put in your fair share for a change" she rumbled while one of the girls yanked his legs down under the bench, taping his ankles together.

Paul was stunned, though part of him had already figured this was what was to come, but hearing the words out loud made it all the more real to him.

"You can't do that. I-I won't let you" he whined, trying to sit up and was immediately reminded that he was bound to the bench.

Scarlet scoffed and scooted off of him, dragging the blade down his chest to his groin, plunging the tip of the razor into the thick fabric, pulling the blade back to cut a large slit in his coveralls. She tossed the utility knife back on the floor and shoved her hand inside the hole she had created in his clothing, fishing out his flaccid cock. The others laughed and conversed with each other when his manhood was exposed for the team to see.

"Not going to let us huh? Well I can already see one reason why you didn't want to" Scarlet snickered, dropping his soft cock and letting it rest against his chest. She waved her hands forward to let the others play with him. Like a shark smelling blood, the sex starved woman pounced the bound male, girls kneeling down on each side of the bench, crowded around his cock. They all jeered and mocked him, shamelessly groping and fondling his genitals, comparing his flaccid member to their fingers. A tattooed otter had even picked up his tape measure and sized him up, taunting and mocking him.

"Someone have stage fright?"

"You have a group of women wanting your cock and you can't even get hard? You must be a faggot or something"

"I'm about to just go back to my room. My vibrator can at least make me cum"

"Pfft. A vibrator? Hell, even my fingers can do a better job than this"

He shut his eyes and tried to ignore the various voices ridiculing him and his size, wrestling against his binds to try and escape the humiliation. Even through his dark fur, his face visibly turned a dark crimson shade.

"SHUT UP! Please, for the love of god someone wake me up!" he begged, praying he was having a vivid nightmare.

"Only dream you're about to have is a wet one" a polar bear chuckled, taking hold of his cock and brushing her thumb up and down his length, the raccoon wincing in response.

One of them grabbed the zipper on his coveralls, pulling it down and opening it, pulling his undershirt over his face to get to his soft fur. What he could only guess to be the sabertooth, dragged her long teeth down his chest as he started to feel numerous hands touch and grab his manhood, rolling it around in their hands, tugging his foreskin, squeezing his balls, all in an attempt to get him harder. He gasped and whined, angry that their treatment was starting to work, his softened cock starting to swell up. They giggled and chuckled, feeling him slowly grow in their teasing hands, pulling back his foreskin to reveal his moist cockhead, gasping at the countless fingers poking and skimming over the sensitive flesh. The attack on his glans only made him harder, his cock starting to grow to its full size. He was at least thankful the nonstop comments on his size would cease, protecting what little pride he had left.

Paul felt the snouts of three girls pressed into his fur, sniffing and inhaling his masculine musk from his chest, sweaty from working in the thick protective clothing he wore. The girls found his scent to be addictive, only adding to the lust they felt, some even licking his chest for more arousal. The relentless provoking of his cock finally led it to growing to its full mast, standing tall and proud before them. The ladies growled in approval, fighting amongst themselves, shouldering each other out of the way, everyone trying to grab his erection at once, jerking and pulling on him. He grunted and tried to kick them away as they molested him. Scarlet eventually had to step in before a fight broke out, establishing a pecking order among them so they could properly share their captive, forcing each other to take turns. The otter was first and took hold of him, stroking him up and down, gasping as she was finally able to touch a male for the first time all month. The others watched as she took him in her mouth with a growl, eager for their own turns. She closed her eyes and focused on the taste of him, rolling her tongue over his tip, coaxing a reluctant moan from the raccoon. Before she could enjoy him anymore, the sabertooth beside her pulled his cock from her mouth, quickly shoving it in her own.

The non-consenting male wrestled against his binds, praying the tape would eventually give in from his struggling, but to no avail. The sabertooth bobbed her head down, her long teeth jabbing into his fur. Paul gasped when the hungry feline took his member into her throat, groaning when she began to purr around him, the bassy vibrations tickling his tip in an undeniably pleasant way. The feeling didn't last long however, the next in line impatiently pulling the cat off of him, the polar bear forcing his meat into her muzzle. Paul couldn't help but moan at the heated blowjob the colossal bear gave him, the large and powerful tongue dragging over his erection, pushing it back and forth, pulling back to force him against her soft jowls.

The unwilling maintenance man was passed back and forth between the women who yearned for the forgotten taste of a male, each having a turn taking him in their maws. After each had their brief time alone with his manhood, the team leaned in to attack him all at once with their tongues. His hips lifted at the sudden onslaught, whining with pleasure, ashamed that he was starting to enjoy how they were using him like a living sex toy. Regardless of how good it felt, he still wanted no part of what was taking place and continued jerking against his taped wrists and ankles. The girls were more feverish in their lickings after he reacted, determined to break him down.

He couldn't help but notice the contrasts in their tongues, the soft silky touch of the otter's, the roughness of the sabertooth's, the thinness and stickiness of the chameleon's, along with the length and strength of the polar bear and German Sheppard's. Each tongue assaulting a different part of him at once, the chameleon coiling its sticky tongue around his tip, pressing it against his urethra. The dog and otter both lapped their tongues at the very edge of his swollen glans where it met his shaft, sawing their tongues back and forth along the sides. The feline and polar bear trailed their tongues up and down his shaft, occasionally using the delicate underbelly of their tongues as well. Paul cried out at the tongue bath they gave his cock, unable to keep his hips from bucking into the air, pre bubbling from his tip, quickly licked up by the chameleon. It was impossible to get used to the sensation of nearly a half dozen tongues lashing at his cock with the girls switching spots every minute, working a new area each time.

"Can't have you having all the fun, can I?" he heard a voice snicker, opening his eyes to find Scarlett pulling his shirt back from his face, her ragged pants laying bundled up on the floor behind her. The captain swung her leg over the bench, moving on top of his face, her bare cunt inches from his snout.

"How about a kiss for me?" she sneered, glaring down at him with a menacing look

He was able to pick up the scent of her arousal, staring at her entrance he knew he was going to have to please. The thick lips of her labia protruded a bit more than anyone he had gotten intimate with before, almost looking stretched from a lifetime of multiple partners. Paul was even able to make out what seemed to be scar tissue in certain spots on her entrance along with a small apparent tear on her right fold. To put it politely, Scarlet's sex had seen better days. Not wanting to make the unstable coyote any angrier, he inched his way forward and pressed his lips against her folds, kissing them the way he would someone's muzzle. The coyote's hand grabbed the back of his head and held him in place.

"Gooooood boy. Now give them a suck" she ordered, dangling her folds on his snout

With her vulva pressed on his nose, he was forced to take in her scent. Surprisingly, it wasn't an offensive one with its powerful feminine musk and nothing too foul behind it. This was still no comfort to him however, still being forced to service the beaten up snatch in front of him. With a gripe, he opened his mouth and took one of her folds and sucked on it the best he could from his position.

"Satisfy your Captain!" she barked, her personality switching yet again with seemingly no reason, painfully digging her claws into his head

The raccoon nodded sheepishly, sliding his tongue back and forth over her lip, moving his head back to tug on her fold, switching to give attention to the other. He worshiped her outer lips, licking and sucking each one feverishly if it meant getting the coyote off of his face, grimacing when his tongue touched the rip on her right fold. Scarlet's tongue hung past her lips as she panted, pulling away from his mouth and make a V with her fingers to spread her entrance apart. Before he had a chance to take in the sight of her wet pink flesh, she dropped her body back on his muzzle, forcing his tongue inside of her with a grunt.

On top of being tied up, Paul was now also struggling to breathe with the coyote's anxious muff forced against his mouth and nose. His tongue wiggled inside of her with intensity, snaking around her inner passage, grinding his nose against her erect clit, doing whatever he could to make her cum. Paul jumped in surprise with yelp at a cold snout pressing under his balls, the canine using her pointed muzzle to sneak under him to lap at his balls and tailhole. The group of ladies never slowed or paused their worship of his cock, their tongue working tirelessly to indulge themselves in the first taste of a male in what seemed like an eternity. The coyote mounted on his face grunted and hissed at his flexible tongue, rewarding his efforts with a short lived burst of her nectar, coating his taste buds with her honey.

The girls weren't alone in their yearning for a real partner, Paul himself having been just as alone during his time on the ship. Despite his desire for a mate and some affectionate release rather than his hand, this was not the answer. As conflicted as his feeling were, his cock was not and relished in the attention, the sudden taste of the coyote's juices causing his tip to spurt another wad of pre. Scarlet thrust herself into his muzzle, jamming his tongue fully into her dripping snatch, his nose firmly planted on her stiff clit, pinching the fleshy button with her fingertips.

Paul knew he wouldn't last much longer with the taste and scent of the heated coyote and the hot wet flesh lashing over his stiff rod. It was apparent Scarlet was feeling the same way, her cunt flexing and grabbing his tongue as it wiggled inside of her. The canine had taken to lapping at his tailhole, lubricating it with her salvia, before jamming her middle finger inside, curling the digit and scratching against his walls. He whimpered against the captain's folds that were suffocating him, twisting his tongue against her soaked passage, feeling it constrict and squeeze his tongue, signaling that she was close to cumming.

Scarlet wrenched his ears painfully hard, howling as she erupted, a powerful jet of her feminine froth squirting into his muzzle, nearly drowning him in the rich fluid. The overwhelming scent and taste of her along with her lustful moans and the continual attention from the others was enough to push him over the edge. The members of the team noticed the increase in the amount and potency of the precum leaking from him, anxious for his release. Each woman stuck out their tongues and pressed the tip under his glans to taste the impending mess.

The raccoon's hips speared into the air, his body quaking as a thunderous orgasm slammed into his body. Thick, pent up seed spurted into the air in one drawn out cumshot, hanging in the air for a moment, before gravity took hold and pulled it back. The long rope of cum splattered on the awaiting tongue, sticking between each of them in lewd ropes, the girls moaning at the long forgotten masculine taste, giggling and laughing at how hard he was cumming. His loud cries of orgasmic bliss we almost literally drown out by Scarlet's honey, gurgling around the squirt, still swallowing the overflowing mouthfuls she continued to give him, her stream finally slowing to a trickle. Though Scarlet's orgasm had ceased, Paul's was only just beginning, now firing off countless strands of his potent cum, each bursting into the air with as much force as the first. The aroma of his rich, potent cum made their loins ache even more. The ladies each held themselves steady, letting his seed rain down on them, feeling each hefty ribbon lash across their faces, moaning as they landed. With a fresh facial covering them, they leaned in to clean his cum covered cock, not wanting a drop to go to waste. The cleaning quickly evolved into much more, the team now kissing and licking each other as they licked him, practically making out around his length, the aura of his masculinity acting as an organic aphrodisiac.

Scarlet pulled herself off of his face, sneering down at him and his soaked face fur, matted with her squirt. He panted and took in lungfuls of the fresh air, unable to smell anything but her, his nostrils smeared with her scent. The raccoons cock gradually began to soften, his orgasm finally waning to one final trickle. His spent cock flopped against his chest, surrendering to them, flaccid once again. The team got off their knees, licking each other's faces clean, getting one final taste of him.

"C-Can.....I....go now?" he panted, sweat beading on his forehead, the muscles of his legs and arms stiff from the exertion of holding the awkward position he was bound to.

The mercenaries scoffed and laughed at him

"We're just getting started" the polar bear growled, the women behind her dropping their pants around their ankles.

"Batter up, you're next" Scarlet cackled, slapping the bear on her rear. With a malicious smile, she undid her pants, wearing no underwear beneath, and swung a leg over his face, giving him one last look around him, before she forced herself against his mouth.

For over two hours, the women used and abused him, sitting on his face and forcing him to worship them, everyone taking a turn riding his exploited manhood. Sometime in between tonguing the chameleon and the particularly violent sabertooth riding him, he blacked out in exhaustion. This didn't stop any of them from using their unwilling toy with no concern for his well being.

He awoke to a sudden slap across his cheek, looking up just in time to see a towel flung in his face.

"Good job, fuckmeat. I guess you aren't completely worthless after all" Scarlet belittled him, the others snickering behind her as they turned to leave, the worn down raccoon left to himself. The air stunk with the thick scent of sex, his fur was dirty and soiled with everyone's combined fluids. From his mouth and groin to even his chest, some of the more horny women taking to grinding against his soft fur when he was passed out. Despite how good some of it felt in the heat of the moment, at the end he was left with nothing but sorrow and remorse. The raccoon chose to stay on the bench, fighting back tears at how he felt. Degraded, ridiculed, and used as nothing more than toy for their own sick amusement. Some may have fantasized about being used in such a way, but Paul had never felt more alone in his life. Used and tossed aside, worthless and disposable.

It wasn't until a few minutes had passed that he realized they had cut the tape free while he was unconscious. With a grunt of agony, he forced himself to sit up, his back cracking and popping in protest. He patted his pockets, hoping that an unhealthy amount of nicotine would be some sort of comfort. It seemed that one of them had swiped his cigarettes before they left, leaving him with nothing. Paul simply shook his head and got up, even the last fleeting hope of some sort of happiness robbed from him. For some strange reason this was the straw that broke the camel's back, being denied the one insignificant thing to ease his troubles. Tears of hatred, anger, and sadness streamed down his face, the handyman's chest heaving as he blubbered. He pulled himself off the bench and stripped off his stained clothing, leaving them on the floor alongside his strewn around tools. Deciding a shower would help in more ways than one, he walked over to a stall and turned on the water. At least the water would hide his tears.

The knob was twisted to the highest heat possible, wanting to feel the pain of the scolding water in a way to purify himself of the physical and mental damage that wouldn't wash away. He let the water soak into his fur with a sigh of relief, combing the sticky fur with his fingers, breaking up the patches of fur spotted with various intimate fluids. The water had also helped in loosening the torn duct tape still adhered to his fur, making sure it was safe before he pulled it off to do as little damage possible to his fur. As he stood there under the water lost in his own thoughts, the drain under him gurgled and belched forth a vile puddle of filth. By the time he knew was what was happening, his feet were already stepping in the muck. He yelped and leapt back, slipping on the tile with his wet feet, landing hard on his tail bone.

"You mean the drains actually are clogged?! FUCK!"