FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Written by Choice Cuts Deli

Commission for HunterCross | March 2021 | 4918 Words

Hunter smiled as he stepped off the bus, chuckling to himself as his feet hit the pavement. He knew that he turned a few heads on his ride to meet his date for the evening. He made sure to sit in the back of the bus on the long ride over, waiting patiently until his stop on the lower East side of the city. When it was time to get off, the young, orange-and-black furred cross fox made quite the exit, his skimpy short-shorts and loose-fitting crop top barely leaving anything to the imagination of those he passed. But now outside, he wondered if he should have been a little more concerned as he took a look around, a cool evening breeze fluttering against his thighs, reminding him that he wore no underwear underneath his revealing pants. As the bus closed the door and drove off down the road, Hunter found himself standing in a rough section of town. Rundown housing and boarded up businesses stretched much of the length of the roadway, with uncollected trash littering the curb. Maybe he should have checked up on the place before agreeing to the hookup app date?

Pulling out his phone from his almost non-existent pocket, Hunter sighed as he flicked open his hookup app and scrolled to his messages. "Skinner" didn't have a profile pic, but had messaged the little fox first, saying how much he, "liked what he saw," and "wanted to get a piece of that ass." His profile was sparse, only a few words about his love for hot, twinky boys and that he would treat his lovers like a real man should. Your usual dirty talk to get someone's appetite wet.

But Hunter was always drawn to that flavor of danger, the allure of a hookup where anything could go wrong. He never seemed to worry about what could happen; it'd worked out fine for him so far. At worst, he'd have someone conveniently 'forget' the condoms. But it was nothing that the doc couldn't take care of. It was risky behavior, but Hunter loved the thrill of living dangerous. It was such a rush for him to be bad! And besides, he was using a 'safe' hookup app. They had policies and standards, and not to mention if someone was dangerous, they'd leave a trace on the app, wouldn't they?

Hunter gave a soft smile as he checked the app once more, the last message that "Skinner" had left was a simple address. 221 W 4th Street, The Last Call Bar, 7:00 PM. From the green ring circling his default icon, it looked as if he was online, and the app's GPS only put him a few blocks away from the bus stop.

Upturning the bottle of cheap beer into his open, toothy snout, a large alligator sat at the Last Call Bar, swilling back the remains of his third beer for tonight. The dark-green scaled gator was built with a dad's body, even though he'd never settled down. The beast's craggy and scaly hide was covered over with a stained work shirt and thick denim pants. As he raised a clawed hand to grab the bartender's attention, he gave a little chuckle as he looked down at his phone.

"Another one, Tank?" The one-eyed pine marten said with a smirk as he took away the empty, "Or should I call you Skinner tonight?"

The comment caused a smirk to crawl across the gator's jaws, teeth creeping out from between his muzzle as he said, "Heh, up to you, whatever you wanna call me. They never get away, so no chance they'll snitch on my real name."

A broad-shouldered longhorn sitting next to the gator chuckled as he sipped at his whiskey, the looming brute turning his gaze to Tank's phone.

"You really put your trust in that app thing, man," he snorted, giving his whiskey sour a swirl in the glass. Licking his lips at Hunter's profile pic, the beefcake added, "He's pretty cute, but you sure you're not gonna get caught some day?"

"Pfft!" Tank chuckled as he shook his head, "It's not a hookup app. It's an app designed for date-rape." Turning back to his phone, Tank gave a few taps until he could show how it worked, "It's called Conceel, it makes a fake profile for you on all the hot hookup apps. All you gotta do is talk when you got a live one on the other end. And when you're done..." Tank chuckled as he pulled up a large red button simply marked 'Conceel' across it in white lettering, "Just push here and it deletes any trace of you. Nothing saved, and all the app company sees is some bunk server number somewhere in Russia."

"I dunno if that tech bullshit's slick or just plain dumb, I wouldn't trust it."

"You gotta get with the times bud. Can't reel 'em in like you used to with all the safety features nowadays." The brutish gator gave a chuckle as he picked up the beer dropped off for him. "Besides, I'm in my 40s, not like I can get tail at the twink bar anymore. At least not dumb and innocent tail. Those sluts close ranks the moment they smell a gator in the water." Chuckling at his own self-reference, the gator gave a little smirk as he reached into his pocket, fingering the little sachet of powder he'd so lovingly prepared for tonight's fun. "So much easier to get 'em to come to me."

"What'a you do when you're done with 'em?" The bull asked with a smirk, before shaking his head, "Nah, forget it, I don't wanna know."

"Wouldn't tell ya even if you did, bud. Secret's a secret. But let's just say if you like what you see, you should get a slice of that faggot ass before it's gone." Almost on que, the door to the Last Call opened with a groaning creek, a lithe little cross fox drawing the attention of most of the bar. "...well would you lookit that." Tank chuckled to himself as he watched Hunter out of the corner of his eye, the soft fox immediately out of his element as the bar's patrons turned their gaze to him. The place didn't look like a gay bar. In fact, it didn't even look like the kinda bar that Hunter would ever be caught dead at. Yet there was no denying the twinky little fox was here for a hookup, the boy immediately pulling up his phone as he wandered awkwardly towards the bar. Tank licked his chops slowly as he tried to pay no heed to the boy, reveling in the hushed whispers that came from other bar patrons as he walked past. Hunter quietly made his way to the only seat remaining at the bar - a seat that Tank had saved special.

As Hunter saddled up onto the open bar stool, the bartender shot a glance over at Tank, as if to ask if he really was gonna drag this trash into his bar. But after a moment, he approached the boy to ask, "What'll it be, kid?"

"O-oh..." Hunter set his phone down on the bar top, open to the yellow and black background of the hookup app, pausing to look over the options behind the bar. None of the well alcohol or bland cheap beer seemed particularly exciting. The twinky boy licked his muzzle in thought before asking, "Sex on the Beach?"

The bar's conversation seemed to grow as hushed tables nearby reacted to the order, the bartender shaking his head at the request. "Sure, whatever you want, buddy." Hunter didn't seem to notice the man walking off to check the ratty old barkeep's book. His usual clientele never ordered anything more complicated than a rum and coke or whiskey and ginger. But as Hunter reached to pick his phone back up, he was suddenly caught off guard as a cold and scaly sensation slid down his back, before slipping under the tight-fitting waistband of his short shorts. For a moment, Hunter gasped, nearly leaping out of his skin as the scaly claws groped at his plush rump. But as he turned to face the hulking beast sitting next to him, the cute little cross fox noticed the man's phone was also open to the same app. Of course, it was a spoofed profile page, but it was convincing enough that Hunter immediately let his guard drop.

"Here's a tip for ya, hun..." The 40-something gator growled as he hooked a finger under the fox's tail, smirking as he prodded softly at the boy's supple tailhole, the pucker firm and tight for such an eager slut. If he hadn't seen the cutie around on the hookup app, Tank might have thought he scored a horny virgin! "Don't order anything with more than two ingredients here. Or if you do, you'd better tip well."

"T-thanks, uh... S-Skinner?"

"Heh, yep. Nice to meet ya, kid." The gator smiled his most convincing, toothy grin as he removed his hand from Hunter's pants, clapping it on the boy's back like he'd just finished a game of baseball. "Hope you don't mind an older gator as your date tonight... Or maybe yer into that daddy stuff all the young'uns seem to like." Hunter's jaw almost dropped as he looked over the scaly working man, his skin leathery and marred with scars in all the right ways. The old brute seemed to have a sheen to his body, as if experiencing a form of greying hair for his scales.

"N-no, not at all! I just didn't..." Hunter quickly grabbed for his drink, reaching into his pocket to grab his wallet. Tank quickly reached out and dropped a 20 on the table to cover the bill.

"Make him another one." Hunter blushed as the bartender took the bill, the one-eyed marten picking up both the bill and the powdery bag of crystals hidden inside the rolled-up note. He gave a little knowing nod as he stepped away to make another drink.

"Thanks. I uh, didn't expect this was the kinda place gay folks would hang out."

"Eh, when you're a working man like me, you get used to this crowd. I'm a butcher at the chop shop down the road, so these are my kinda people." The thought of bedding down with a butcher was very alluring to the cross fox. His tight-fitting pants tented a little at the thought of those rough claws handling him like a piece of meat. With a little blush, Hunter reached out to sip at his drink, before he felt something smack into him from the side.

Spattering a little of his drink across the bar top, Hunter gasped as cold schnapps and vodka splattered up into his snout, staining the crop top he was wearing with orangey-red liquid. Turning around, Hunter caught a leather-clad mule walking past, bray-laughing to himself as he went out of his way to shove the poor boy into his drink. Tank watched, curious if he should intervene now or let this play out, but his question was answered the moment Hunter opened his mouth.

"Hey, watch it man!" The fox growled, just loud enough that the biker-looking equine turned about on the heels of his riding boots.

"Watch it yourself, faggot." Chuckling, the donkey took a few steps back towards the bar, planting a hooved hand on Hunter's chest and shoving him back on his stool. "Lost little faggot came to the wrong bar."

Tank's crocodile jaws opened in an expectant hiss as he watched Hunter get slammed back into the bar. At the same instant, the bartender came back with the cross fox's second drink. Quickly reaching out, the gator snagged Hunter's drink out of his hand, ostensibly to keep him from spilling it. Yet a quick move was all it took to swap the two glasses, leaving the spiked cocktail closest to the unwitting victim. Once that was accomplished, Tank swung into action, the old gator growling as he stood from his stool. Tank was a brute, towering a full two heads taller than the donkey, and probably three over Hunter's lithe and tender form. The cross fox watched, paws instinctively rubbing at his stained chest as his date for the evening palmed the donkey's chest with a clawed hand, balling up his shirt and crinkling his leather vest in one firm move.

"Tough guys like you go missing every day in this city." The gator growled as he lifted the donkey off the floor, walking him to the table he'd been headed towards and casually dropping him down to his feet. "Keep your limp dick out of my business." Tank sauntered back to his seat without any care for what the bigoted asshole might think, his tail nearly taking out a chair or two as it did. Settling back down at his seat, the gator growled as he gave Hunter a concerned look, placing a hefty claw on the boy's shoulder before asking, "You alright? Here, have your drink. Assholes think they own the place sometimes. Don't ever think a queer man could bash them right back till it's too late."

Hunter clutched his glass, nodding as his date acted the part of a kind and concerned lover, completely unaware that the colorless, odorless drug was present in every sip he took. Sips turned into slugs, Hunter quickly swallowing down more and more of the drink as his inhibitions fell drastically. By the time he had finished the glass, his hands were trembling as he autonomously reached out for the second drink. By the time that was gone, he had realized that there was something very, very wrong. The cute boy tried to force a smile at Tank as he chattered away about work, his head going dizzy as tunnel vision started to set in. All he could focus on were those rows of alligator teeth - sharp as knives, and grinning wider and wider as he watched Hunter slip deeper and deeper into the grip of the date-rape drug.

After about forty-five minutes, Tank knew his time to strike was ready. Leaving a $20 on the bar for his bartender's assistance, the gator stood up from his stool. Hunter, confused as to what was happening, tried to get himself up, but his legs quickly turned to jello beneath him, the little slut slurring out something as he stumbled against the brutish gator.

"Awww, hun," the alligator said with an air of concern. "I think you had too much. Slutty little twinks like you can't take your liquor. You wanna go?" A second later, Hunter was on all fours on the floor, a belching wretch escaping his maw as he tried not to vomit right at Tank's feet. "Woah, kiddo, bathroom's that way." Tank pointed towards the back, maybe only fifteen feet away, and gave his victim a pat on the ass. He might as well have asked Hunter to walk a tightrope in a funhouse; the boy could barely walk straight, let alone maneuver as his body began to sink deeper into the confusion of his date rape drugging. The little slut padded as far as possible before hiccupping aloud, a belly's worth of vomit spilling out of his open muzzle from both sides and cascading down his front just before the cross-fox pushed his way through the door into the public bathroom. Tank rolled his eyes and laid another $20 on the bar for the marten's troubles before following close after.

Hunter would have preferred to have sex anywhere else but the bathroom of the Last Call. Hell, the alley out back would have been cleaner. But he certainly didn't get a choice in the matter. Tank entered the decrepit bathroom to find Hunter laying face-down in the trough-style urinal. The boy was resting his face on a filthy urinal cake, groaning listlessly as he balanced on his knees with his chest resting on the side of the trough. Yet instead of his calm and caring demeanor, Tank seemed to change in an instant the moment he stepped into the bathroom.

"Aww, what's wrong, slut?" Tank growled as he unbuttoned his Carhartt pants, happy he chose to go commando today. Huffing through his snout, he drunk in the sight of his victim reeling in the toilet, the dose of drugs causing him to struggle to breathe with each passing moment. "You've been teasing me all night long... It's time you pay that tab you've been running up, you little faggot." Tank saddled up behind Hunter, a broad grin on his face as he yanked the boy's ass up a little higher, grinding on the stained fabric of his victim's short shorts. "Mmmm... god, your ass feels so good." He growled, allowing himself to hotdog against the cross-fox's warm rump. Tank didn't even bother to unbutton Hunter's pants, instead reaching his claws up and ripping the fabric to shreds until the boy's tight little pucker was left visible. Tank's own shaft swelled as it ground into the boy's tight ass, the full nine and a half inches of gator cock drooling a dollop of precum from the tip. "That's the only lube yer gonna get boy."

"N-Noooo..." Hunter slurred out, his hands feebly reaching back to try and swat the gator away. A moment later, he yeowled out in sudden panic as the gator pressed his cock home into his tight little ass. "Nnnngh! N-NO! NOoooo shhtaaahp!" The cries went unheeded, Tank's clawed hands gripping Hunter's plush rump firm at the hips before pulling him bodily back onto his throbbing erection. The massive head POPPED into the hole without any lube, and the gator gave him no chance to adjust. The cross fox reacted to the pain with uncoordinated struggles, his body flopping about in the urinal trough as he tried to stand up, tried to get away and make it stop hurting. For his struggles, all he got was a gator's rough hand gripping him by the hair and slamming him head-first down into the toilet trough.

"You don't fucking tell me no, you little cunt." Tank growled as he bottomed out inside the boy, stretching his colon out in the process as he began to pound the little cross fox raw. Each thrust caused Hunter's head to pound into the urinal, the boy's slurred cries for help quickly devolving into pained whimpers as Tank began to bang his head harder and harder with each slap of his hips. "God it feels good to break another pillowbiter. You filthy fags'll do anything for a real man's cock when you get a little sauce in you."

As Hunter felt his head pound against the metal toilet's bowl, each painfully hard THUNK sending stars in front of his already tunneled vision, he could barely make sense of what happened around him. All he knew was the pain in his ass, the autonomous struggle of his body trying to get away interrupted again and again as his snout began to bleed each time his face smashed into the metal trough. Somewhere between the drugs and the concussion, Hunter found himself losing track of time and space. Flashes of lucidity caught up with the little whore, followed by long periods of listlessness and a blank mind. The cross fox was only faintly aware of the bathroom door opening, a few words exchanged between Tank and someone else. Any fleeting hope of him being saved was quickly dashed when the intruder stepped up to the urinal trough and unzipped his pants, a fat canine cock flopping out from the fly.

Hunter groaned as his eyes turned upwards, mouth agape just as Tank shoved his face down harder into the toilet, using his cheek to plug the filthy drain. The little cross fox's eyes rolled in their sockets as he watched a hot stream of yellowed, beer-fueled piss spatter across his orange-and-black facial fluff, the aim coating his fluffy face until the canine got into a steady flow. As hot dog urine flooded freely, Hunter gurgled as he felt it fill up his muzzle, pouring over his tongue and filling the bottom of the metal trough. All the while, Tank continued to raw fuck his tight little ass, grunting as he held the boy down in the swill of filthy piss. Hunter should have been thankful he'd been drugged. Tank's massive cock had not only abused the boy's tight pucker but had also begun to split it open the longer he pounded without lube. At first the tender ring of flesh stretched to accommodate his hefty girth, but soon Tank had worn the muscles raw and puffy, a thin drool of blood tainting his veiny cock a bright crimson in the dark bar bathroom.

"Man Tank, the little slut looks pretty worn," commented the canine. His was a voice Hunter couldn't recognize, or perhaps he just couldn't focus with the drugs coursing in his system. The long and flowing stream of piss continued at a torrential pace. Each time Hunter took a breath in, his throat gurgled with the rising swell of piss that couldn't escape the trough. The one eye that faced upwards tried to track Tank's movements, the glassy whites soon becoming bloodshot as Hunter gurgled on the frothy piss.

"Mnnnnpfh, plenty tight. Practically begging for my cock" The beast growled as he could feel Hunter's blood dripping down his balls, the raw fucked ass starting to give way as muscles began to tear. It wouldn't be long before Tank's rough rutting sped up, even if it felt like an eternity to Hunter's date-rape drugged mind. With the same force sort of care he would afford an old sock or cum rag, Tank spilled his load deep into Hunter's tender ass, grunting as his hips slapped hard against the boy. Withdrawing his cock with a wet and filthy slop from the cross fox's ass, Tank allowed the flood of gator cum and blood drool out the broken hole into a puddle on the bathroom floor. "Awww, looks like I broke another one..."

Tank growled as he reared back with his leg, the gator suddenly and forcefully planting his knee between Hunter's thighs. The force, and subsequent tortured pain in his balls, caused Hunter's bloody nose to slam into the back of the urinal, his cheek getting cut upon the sharp edge of the drain. He cried out, screeching as his legs fumbled against the floor. Yet Tank wasn't content with one shot; he reared back and kicked, harder this time. He lifted his foot, his claws raking and slashing against Hunter's testicles as they swelled. The canine just seemed to laugh as hunter began to gurgle and drown in the tub of piss, the gator making sure to hold him firm so none of it flowed down the drain. For nearly two minutes, Tank worked over Hunter's broken and semi-conscious frame, busting his balls and thrashing on his cock. Soon the two orbs were knocked loose from their shredded sack, dangling by the cords. They hung limp next to his sliced-open cock, piss drooling out the large gashes in the underside that the gator had made.

"Mmmm... you like that, boy?" The gator growled at length, finally lifting Hunter's face from the toilet just as his eyes rolled back in his head, the mixture of agony and drugs finally catching up to him. "I think it's time I showed you why they call me Skinner."

Hunter groaned as his eyes lidded open, a repetitive pattern of ceiling tiles interspersed with harsh florescent lighting overhead. With so much drugs in his system, it was a wonder the little slut could even open his eyes, and it was clear that he couldn't care less that he was being walked down the sterile halls of a small city-side butcher's shop. It was the same one that Tank worked at during the day. As much as his friends at the Last Call turned the other way to his date rape, the old gator had some proclivities he had to take care of in private. Hunter was about to join so many others, dragged back into the bowels of his workplace, never to be seen again.

Tossing the little slut on a metal table, Tank reached between the boy's legs and casually fondled his ruined junk. Somewhere along the line one of his testicles must have fallen off on the walk over. The other one was still there but swollen enough that it ruptured into a gooey mess. Raking his claws over the cords, Tank popped the little nugget off and discarded it into a bin to his right side. When his cold and scaly fingers reached over Hunter's cock, the twinky slut let out a slurred moan, his hand flopping softly as he tried to reach out and swat away the gator's grip. Fingering the broken and gashed penis, Tank casually scraped his claws along the hefty sausage, clawing the flesh at the edge of Hunter's sheath until he'd sawn a jagged cut through Hunter's cock. As the blood oozed out of the spongy material, Tank threw that morsel away into the bin as well, chuckling at how much better the bloodied and broken boy looked without junk.

"There we go, meat... Just relax, lemme take care of everything." Tank growled as he began to prod two fingers up into the boy's tight tailhole, a soft moan escaping the boy's jaws as he felt his broken and bloody hole violated yet again.

"P-pleassssh..." Hunter groaned out softly as Tank caressed against the boy's prostate with two fingertips.

"Shhhh... That's a good boy... You hungry, boy?" The mere mention of food caused a chain reaction in the slut's drug addled mind. His listless groan turned to a wretch, just before vomit escaped his jaws and spattered over the table and floor. Before he was finished, Hunter's pathetic hacking turned to a sudden screech as Tank began to clench his fingers inside the boy's ass. The claws bit in at different angles, allowing him to slice and then peel back the fox's skin in long and thin shreds. There was nothing Hunter could do as he felt his sullied pucker sliced up and, turned inside out like a sock. Gripping hold of the prolapsed hole, Tank began to yank hard on Hunter's skin, drawing up fur and flesh alike as he began to peel Hunter's pelt off like he was a freshly caught rabbit. The full-sized fox offered little coordinated resistance as his flesh was peeled off in thick strips, the gator's claws slipping underneath to free up any particularly stubborn spots. It wasn't the most food safe of processes, leaving thick and matted slabs of fur about the processing table, but soon Hunter was left twitching in agony as his exposed and bloody meat spasmed uselessly on the prep table. "There we go, fag. God you're so fuckin' out of it. I bet you don't know how fucked you are?"

With a growl, the gator gripped Hunter's ankles tight, lifting his naked and ruined body up by the sinewy bones. Tank grunted as he held the cross fox just above shoulder height, the dripping carcass heaving as he slammed both of Hunter's ankles down hard into two waiting meat hooks, piercing between the boy's lower legs and sending his semi-conscious body into spasms. These, however, were much weaker than those that Hunter made convulsing in the urinal, and Tank could only imagine the little whore was going into shock. Reaching his claws up to his side of meat's pubic mound, the gator began to slowly slice through the boy's gut until he could rip his claws into the soft flesh, all the way down to the struggling fox's breastbone.

Hunter should have been glad he couldn't lift his head as a torrent of guts and offal spilled out of his open gut cavity, splattering blood and leaving smears of filth over the orangey facial fur. As his eyes began to go cloudy from the loss of blood and growing bodily pain, Tank gave one last pat to the boy's cheek.

"I'd give ya a last throat fuck, but I'd rather use your head once you're dead, meat." Hunter could hardly react to the words before Tank gripped the boy's throat with his hand, digging his claws into either side of the boy's windpipe in a sudden and surprising move. Rasping, the little fox feebly squirmed on the meat hooks, groaning like a whore as he felt himself struggle back and forth helplessly as the blood cascaded out the gashes punched into his neck. As the light faded from Hunter's eyes, Tank simply wiped the seething hot blood from his fingers, before remembering he had one very important thing left to do.

Grabbing out his cell phone, Tank smirked as he pulled up the Conceel app on his phone. Navigating off the dead little cross fox's page, he calmly went back to the big red button with the word 'Conceel' on it. As casual as clearing out his voicemail, Tank tapped the button, the loading screen turning to a spinning dial, before a little checkbox came up, deleting his fake account and wiping any trace of him from the hookup app. Just like he would wipe away any trace of Hunter's body before the butcher shop opened in the morning.

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