FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Update Notes: Minor Edits as of 7/28/2020

When the market was well behind them, as they walked down the bustling streets, filled with playing cubs and their maternal wardens, Connor finally recovered, and relaxed with a smile. Master Newport reached up and took the human's hand into his own. “How are you feeling Connor? You looked scared?" Master Newport asked his voice low to keep the conversation between them.

“Dagia was going to change me in front of everyone, Master Newport." Connor exhaled, his anguish echoing on his muffled tongue, downing the last of the root beer as if it would drown his terror. “I didn't know what to do Master… I like playing, I like the fear of people finding out and being played with… it felt so wrong."

“I told Dagia, gave her rules, I'm sorry that happened. But Dagia isn't like us, she doesn't quite understand, but she wants too, so please promise me you won't hold it against her. She is only starting… Dagia is my student, and I'll make sure that never happens again." Master Newport defended, rubbing the back of Connor's hand with his thumb, to help ease the tension.

“Did you plan that Sir?"

Master Newport nodded, “In some regard; I gave her rules and told her I would bring you along. It was a test, to see how well she could handle you alone because she is going to be your cub sitter. I won't always be around to watch over you, so I needed to make sure I could trust her."

“And what about the other teachers… Lilen, did you dress me in this just for him?" Connor asked, pulling at his shirt; Master Newport nodded.

“In some part, Dagia told me she would be working with him today, and I thought it would be a perfect chance for you two to meet. I was thinking about who to train you all night, and he is not my top choice, but he is an excellent starting point for your training. I also wanted to lure him in with your cute butt, and he took it, as you humans say, 'hook, line, and sinker'." Master Newport smirked, glancing up at Conner who laughed at the simple joke.

“You've been studying English quite a bit."

“I have, we Mincridarins are given the ability to understand your language, and speak it, but that doesn't mean we know how to use it. However, Connor, what did you think of Lilen, do you think he would be fun to play with?"

Connor nodded, rubbing the back of his neck with the can, “Yeah, he's sweet and kind, and he has a more 'daddy' kind of energy. It was a nice change of pace, however, having him and Dagia around sounds like a nightmare. Because it's like good cop, bad cop, and you can never really know who is who at any given time; since even Dagia has her kind moments."

“I will make a note of that when we get home, but other than being changed into a diaper--." Master Newport kicked Connor's legs out from under him, knocking the human on his ass, a polearm flying just over Connor's head as he fell and thudding to the asphalt.

“Sorry!" A bellowing call cried out in a panic, heavy footsteps thudding the ground as an elephant bounded up and into view. The Colossal gray mass of hide casting a looming shadow as he stood nearly two feet taller than Connor; looking thankful for not knocking Connor's head off, he exhaled his anxiety before smiling down at the human sitting a foot away from his groin.

The Elephant was wearing nothing, and the rounded leather satchel stuffed with two soft jawbreakers between his legs swayed softly as he shifted side to side on aching legs. The thick trunks shaking from exhaustion, like a stallion who had run well beyond its limit. His sixth trunk, discounting his limbs and prehensile nose, hung flaccid between his legs, reeking of sweat, dirt, and fresh-cut grass. His sun-baked hide was painted like abstract art with globs of color, the green and brown stains most likely caused by dominating body rolling around from in his front yard training with his leering father in the background. The stud was definitely a shower; if his heavy set, sub sandwich-sized cock grew any larger it'd easily be more than two feet in length; and the mere proximity to such a stunning phallus made Connor drool, the idea of just holding it, made his loins tighten and ache.

“Hey, sorry about that human," The fat dong slapped the concrete as the Elephant knelt beside Connor, as his thick sausage fingers wrapped around Connor's bicep. The horny human nearly moaned, the gentle strength and the smothering hand was like ecstasy, but an unamused glance from Connor's Master stiffened his lip, and silence his pleasure. Standing once again on his own shaking legs, a rough beefy hand dusted his ass, spanking it with the gentlest of touches, but even so, the paddle-wide palm stung Connor's padded clapped ass. The heavy hollow thuds, maybe hanging just a bit too long as Connor stiffened as he swore thick boarish nails dug into the clefts under his ass.

Connor found himself only stammering his appreciation, “It's lon-it's ama-it's alright…Yeah… I'm alright." Connor felt the long mallet of flesh smack his knee; he damn near collapsed.

The wide tusked smiled, warm and alluring, maybe the slightest bit flirtatious as he still had yet to let Connor's bicep go, “You sure small thing? I know you humans bruise easily?" he seemed to tease.

“Yeah…" Connor swooned, his face burning as he felt the heavy hand like a warm boulder finally shifted to his shoulder. The thick fingers digging between his shoulder blades and up along Connor's spine, tickling the base of his neck with the Elephant's weathered skin, a tender massage and maybe, a subtle message.

“I'm sorry, but you nearly killed my 'Mate'!" Master Newport but in, plainly marking his territory as he stepped up with a wooden staff dwarfing his hands. “There is nothing alright." Master Newport corrected as he glared at Connor, before glaring at the Elephant, “learn to hold your damn weapon! You think with a cock that large; you'd know how to handle thick shafts!" Master Newport lectured as he tossed the piece of rough lumber back to the towering male. His bitterness and profanity making the Elephant visibly tense, his weak limbs stiffening up under the stout rabbit's rage.

“I'm sorry, and you are right. I should have known better; please forgive me human. I will do my best to keep my hold of my weapon next time, so this never happens again." The Elephant apologized, taking a step back to bow, exposing the rotund scalp dotted with thin strands of wispy hair.

Connor wasn't sure what he needed to say when the Elephant bowed to him in apology; it felt strange and wrong, but also mildly empowering. Such a colossal creature bowing to him; for a single moment, Connor could understand why Master Newport liked handling beings larger than himself. The gray messy male looked so vulnerable and sad, like a giant puppy. Though the idea of seeing the Elephant in puppy gear made Connor smile, rolling over and doing tricks, begging for treats. Connor nearly laughed at the idea, while his Master stepped up to send the stranger away.

“Resume your training, a lost weapon is a lost life, don't lose hold of your most important asset in battle." Master Newport finished stiffly, his snout curling as he finished the conversation.

“Of Course sir, thank you sir," The Elephant retreated, bounding back into his front yard and up to his just as naked father; the aged male retaliating with a whip-like smack. The crack of flesh against flesh was brutal, deafening even as it silenced the entire street for a single moment; a thousand eyes turning to watch the scened of naked masculinity unfold, “What in all creation was that Rectin?!" The father bellowed without tact or shame as he kicked his son back and to the ground, an earth-shaking king thud, “In battle, there is no time to lose focus! You are a damn hunter! You fight to provide! You fail, and people starve! You fail, and you die! Don't ever forget that! Just because we are here on Earth doesn't mean you can stagnate by watching TV all day! Demons and spirits can attack at any time, anywhere! Don't you dare come inside until you can only crawl to your damn bed!" The father seethed, shaking his head in disgust, before slamming the front door shut; Connor could even hear it, the deadbolt sliding into place.

Though Connor felt his gut turn, feeling sick, as the entire scene just reminded him of home. Connor could feel the Elephant's pain echoing on his cheek, a dooming shock of reality as Connor, remembering how violent his father had been when he found out he had been practicing magic instead of going to work. The roaring voice echoing in Connor's head as he knew he would have to face that kind of aggression once again…all alone.

“Connor?" Master Newport called out, pulling Connor's mind back into focus, at which point Connor cleared his misty eyes, his breath staggered; how long had been since he had a breathed? His throat felt dry as he answered his Master, with a sheepish reply, “wh…What, sir?"

“Are you ok?"

“I will be," Connor answered, still trying to regulate his breath as he took charge, and started to walk back to Master Newport's home, he just needed a break; and get away from everyone. Master Newport didn't say anything as he following behind, watching Connor carefully, saying nothing for some time, even after they had a momentary break as they sat down on the couch together.

But then as the silence became too much, Master Newport reached out and touched Connor's knee, it retracted from his touch; he looked up at Connor for an answer; instead, all he got was an apology, “Sorry sir." Connor whispered as he spread his knees to let Master Newport touch him.

“Connor, are you absolutely sure you want to go back home, alone, tomorrow?"

“I have to do this, I couldn't live with myself if I didn't. I know my parents will be pissed, but if I don't do this, I'm sure I will regret it."

“Connor, I said alone. I'm not going to stop you from telling your parents, I know you need to do this, but do you want to do it alone?"

Connor nodded, painfully slow, “This is the one thing I need to do alone. The one thing I need to do on my own before I'm yours."

“I hate the idea of letting you go back alone, but I understand why. Please just promise me you'll be safe." Master Newport lamented, begging, as he took Connor's right hand into both of his, “Promise me by Heaven's Golden Oak, that you will come back to me."

“Master, I promise, I'll come back. I'd never let anything keep us apart, not even my parents." Connor answered, his Master exhaled with a sigh of relief, his pain unable to hide behind the cracked smile that covered his muzzle. But then that smile shifted, turning into something just the slightest bit more wounded as he turned his head away, ears falling back, appearing too nervous to speak, until he inched closer, crawling on his hands and knees until he was sitting on Connor's thigh.

“Connor, can you forgive me, I haven't been honest with you?" Master Newport whimpered as he looked up at Connor, his gaze terrified; he looked far worse than he did this morning. Looking almost as if he was going to cry.

“Master-."

“Newport, please no master, not yet, not until we finish." Newport corrected, his hands reaching out to clutch Connor's shirt, like the lifeline on a rock climbing wall.

“Ok, Newport," The name just felt wrong without the formality and oath associated with being owned, “What's wrong, you can tell me anything… I promise I won't try and get mad."

Newport was silent, as he turned his gaze away, his hands nearly tearing a hole in Connor's shirt, his body becoming rigid, his breathing ragged-rough and uneven, long and short breaths. His muzzle curling up in anger, but Connor could feel the aggression wasn't meant for him. Newport was battling himself, until he looked back up at Connor, a weary resolve faltering in his eyes. “Connor, I branded you. I branded you as my slave, as my property."

“What?" The only logical question Connor could reply with, as he adjusted himself on the couch, “What do you mean branded?... Why would you do that to me? I told you I didn't want to be marked? I hate how slaves and online get permeant tattoos, saying their owned or someone's property. I enjoy being treated like a slave, but I don't want to be one, not like that; that's not me." Connor interrogated, lost in a sea of his own emotions. Anger, at being lied to, sad for being marked for life, and wounded, over the betrayal of trust and the omission of truth.

“I know…." Newport exhaled with a defeated breath, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe, his hands barely holding onto Connor's shirt, “I know, Connor, but I can't hide this from you. I demanded you tell me the truth and trust me, and I betrayed you…. But I did it to protect you."

“Protect me from what?" Connor cringed, hating the all too cliché line, his hands tense; he wanted to pick up Newport and chuck him across the room, but he steeled himself, as much as Connor wanted revenge, he wanted answers more.

“Me." The answer so simple and so soft, and the moment Newport's evergreen eyes fell back on his; Connor's heart sunk. He wanted to be angry, but Newport looked like he was sitting on his death bed; he looked so hopeless and scared of the end.

Connor repeated himself, “What?"

“Connor, do you remember what I told you yesterday about how masters die in more ways than one when they train their slaves?" Connor nodded, and Master Newport's entire form slumped, gaze falling for only a moment. “Unlike humans, Masters, slave trainers, they are bound by law and by vows of truth. Our every action examined, because we, our job is to protect and raise slaves. To make a person better than they once were, so we take precautions. Magical precautions. I branded you with the third seal Bondage, a magical brand that binds our souls together in the faintest way." Newport took a breath, looking at Connor, who remained silent, listening, biding his time.

“The brand allows me to feel faint echoes of your emotions and your pain. So I can feel your anger, I could feel how terrified you are of your parents. I even feel your back pain this morning… That is why so many Masters' like me, give up on training slaves. We can feel the moment our slave's heart shatters; when their spirits finally break." Newport put his hand on Connor's heart, looking up at the human with pleading eyes. “I branded you because I never wanted to break you. I never want to hurt you. The brand is for your protection because it tells me when I need to stop; when I'm about to go too far; or when someone is pushing you to your limits… Why do you think I was so quick to save you when Dagia was about to change you? I felt your terror. I knew if she changed you, she would scar you; I couldn't let that happen Connor. I love you too much to see you die."

“Mincridarn slavery really is different, isn't it?" Connor rambled, his mind understanding why Newport would go to such extremes, but at most, he was just talking on instinct, still trying to process everything and the reality. Newport slowly nodded.

“Connor, I know you hate me, and you have every right to be. I abused your trust; please give me the chance to earn it back. Please let me be your Master. I promise I will never do something like this again." Newport truly begged, clutching Connor's chest with his small fingers, tears trickling from the corners of his eyes, matting the fur with every pained shallow breath.

“Is it permeant?" Master Newport nodded.

“The soul binding can be turned off at any time, but the brand is etched on your soul. Even if you were to skin yourself. The mark will always remain. However, I made it illusionary; I know you never wanted to be branded or wanted to do anything that might cause permeant damage, but I also did it to hide it from you…you can only see it in a mirror's reflection."

Connor nearly growled as he grabbed Newport's wrists, tearing them away from his chest. It wasn't just a tattoo that could be removed with laser surgery, it was a blemish on his soul. Something he could never escape from or hide. But Newport was shivering, his entire body shaking, he didn't fight back or resist; he was just nothing more than a living puppet. Connor could feel Newport's hands come free with the minimalist of effort, and Connor couldn't bring himself to push Newport away or hurt him. Not when he was like this, not when he looked as if he was dying. As much as Connor burned inside, watching Newport cry, it smothered his rage; but even then, Connor could barely be angry too.

Connor, just felt wounded, stabbed in the back, and all he knew was that he needed to be alone, to get away and sleep through the pain. “I think… I think I need some time alone." Connor wearily whispered as he let go of Newport.

“Are you going to go home?" Connor nodded.

“I think it's for the best."

“I am sorry for ruining the day Connor. I wanted to do so many fun things with you, but you are going home. Possibly leaving your family and life behind, for me. You deserve to know everything-so please… if you have any questions, call me, or at least text me…." Newport sniffled as he stepped off Connor's lap.

Connor looked down at himself, “I'm going to need my clothes back… can I take a shower before I go?"

“Yes… please feel free, my home is your home. I will get your things and have them ready for you when you're done." Master Newport hastily agreed as he waved Connor off, trying to smile, a dying light hanging behind the pleasant façade.

“Thank you…sir." Connor pushed, reluctant to look at the rabbit and call him Master, let alone treat him as such.

Connor wasn't even sure if what he was taking was a shower, he was mostly just standing under the water trying to think, just trying to get over the idea that he had been branded with an irreversible tramp stamp.

The brand was real, Connor had seen it in the reflection of the vanity mirror; black unfurled wings and a rabbit's head in the center, circled by a ring of chain links. It wasn't ornate; it was just clean and simple designs, but it was also a sizable tattoo. The wings spread out to the back of his waistline, and the rabbit's head was big enough to sit squarely on Connor's tail bone, let alone the chain-link ring was as wide as his own palm. The brand's only saving grace was the fact that it was an illusion, because as much as Connor bent and contorted himself, he couldn't see it himself; only in the mirror's reflection.

Connor couldn't stop himself from rubbing at the black blemish after he dried himself, it felt so out of place and so wrong; this wasn't him. This wasn't who he wanted to be, he didn't want to be some tattooed skinhead. This was still his body, he wasn't owned, and it was supposed to be his choice, but this brand was a part of him now, as much as he wished he could rub it off.

Newport had left Connor's backpack by the bathroom door, yesterday's clothes already sitting on top, along with a Bear Paw pull up; after all, he hadn't come with underwear in the first place. Dressing back up was easy enough, Connor didn't take the time to stuff in his shirt or loop up his belt, he was just going back home after all…yeah…

Newport was sitting on the couch, keeping his distance and only trying to smile when Connor glanced back at him as he slipped into his shoes.

“Bye," Connor mumbled from the open door.

“Please be safe Connor," Master Newport called out timidly with a lackluster wave.

“You too…" Connor breathed as he shut the door behind himself, settling into his van, struggling to turn on the engine, so he could go back to his prison cell of a room.

When Connor rolled up to the daunting single story, it didn't feel familiar, like he had parked in front of the wrong house, but the square trimmed bushes and the ordinary green grass yard with blooming multicolored roses were all there; it was his tan stucco prison colored home.

Barely having the heart to step out of the van, Connor walked inside, calling out a required greeting to his parents. “I'm home," The words tasting like lead as Connor heard his masculine warden of a father come out to greet him with a smile.

“Hey Connor, you're back early!-What's wrong?" his dad asked, opening up his thick arms. Embracing his son, Connor was pulled in close and into a chiseled chest, gained from years of training in the army, and a nonstop work out routine that would make Mincridarins proud. His musty gray gym shirt smelled of sweat, oil, and grime; he must have been cleaning his rifles again.

“Nothing, just got in a fight with my…friend…" Connor lied, his father sighed, Connor could hear the heavy exhale echo beneath the dense pecs, “I just need to be alone right now."

“How about we go to the range instead, you always liked that. Help vent some of that anger into some good practice." His father countered, but Connor shook his head, his dad was right, going to the range did sound nice, but Connor knew he would vent more than anger, he'd spill his guts. Connor would tell his dad everything out of frustration; and that didn't feel safe.

“Well ok… I'm just glad you're safe. Red Rock can be a dangerous place, especially with all those feral freaks walking about." The blatant racism completely glossed over by a smile, suddenly, Connor felt his father's hand compress on his shoulder. “You were staying away from those abominations, weren't you?" The hostility of the firm hold echoing in the falling smile, and stern stare.

“Yes Dad…" Connor finished sweeping out of the hold to walk to his room, closing the door and locking so he could be left alone. Throwing his backpack on the bed, Connor tore at the manicured sheets and dragged them off his bed.

Ducking down into the recess between the dressers and the wall underneath the mattress. Connor just needed a place to hide, a dark place where he could fall asleep and escape from literally, everything.