FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Trevor grunted through his parched throat as he pistoned his dick in and out of the raccoon on the bed of leaves beneath him. Greasy black hair was matted against his face, and the husky opossum's elbows knocked against his sides with the strain required to keep him from collapsing after three hours of humping, rubbing, and in general, fucking. A clenched stomach and a bite to his tongue did nothing to stave off the pressure in his crotch. He released his load into Moira and flumped wordlessly onto her; She sighed, pushed him off, and grabbed a clipboard from the floor beside the bed frame.

"Trevor, we need to discuss your account."

A bit on the short, pudgy, awkward side, Trevor hadn't had much of a social safety net after being fired from his job at Carniburger. Desperation urged him to follow the tales of forest entities who, it was said, exchanged intangible concepts or seemingly inconsequential services for material goods. He expected he'd have to give up his earliest childhood memory or the best year of his life when he arrived at the mahogany tree in the forest's center; he was pleasantly surprised that the slim, bespectacled red haired raccoon spirit accepted payment in the form a roll in the hay. Or leaves, as it were.

"Can we... like, just take a second..."

"July 22nd. You request a loan of $500 to pay your rent." Moira adjusted the golden spectacles in front of her emerald eyes as she read sternly from papers affixed to the clipboard. "As I am evidently still a sucker for a sob story, I agree to a ridiculous 10% monthly compounded interest, and only one orgasm per dollar. Then July 30th. $300 so you can afford food for the month. August 18th. $75 dollars for gas so you could make the drive here. I've given you the best deal I've ever given anyone, I'm letting you screw me on this"

Six months ago, Trevor would have agreed, by every interpretation of the phrase. The rent problem taken care of, he'd decided to save himself the two hour drive and two hour hike and spent the first week with Moira in her enchanted tree, trying to at least cover the interest of his initial installment. Her insatiable appetite and demanding pace were the first cues he may have gotten in a bit over his head. Her capricious desires were a second. What she wanted, or when that desire was about to change, was rarely voiced: One minute she would be moaning as he gently ran his tongue over her clitoris, the next she wouldn't be satisfied by anything less than an entire fist jammed inside her. Even when she was consistent, her supernatural stamina often outlasted Trevor's most determined attempts. For all his efforts, he only managed to bring her to orgasm 3 times over those seven days, a record he as of yet had been unable to break.

"You just... you make it so hard... you never tell me what..." Trevor clamped his mouth shut, hoping he could keep his misstep from being audible.

"Excuse me?" Moira spared him a sideways glance, face still firmly facing towards Trevor's file. "Are you implying you're unable to pay me back? You sought me out. You left the city and entered the part of the forest I know you people tell stories about. You, knowingly and without coercion, signed and agreed to abide by this document." A tapping of manicured nails on hardboard drew Trevor's attention to the document. The document he had indeed signed. The document he had not read in its entirety before signing. The document that included the nonpayment clause 'chronic delinquency shall be cause for reparation by means of ingestion, after which payment shall be considered rendered in full.'

"No, no no no!" He pushed himself up against the side of the canopy bed, shaped by spirit magic from the floor of the tree itself and stuffed with leaves. "I'm trying really hard, I'm just saying..." The raccoon turned her head a little more towards him. "Maybe we could work out..." She now gave him her undivided attention. "Some kind of... alternative?"

The tapping slowed, cold calculations implicit behind Moira's implacable expression. A twig plucked from a nearby branch transformed to an elegant fountain pen as Moira brought it to the papers. After 30 seconds, she turned the paper around, the number $2,475.00 underlined at the bottom of a list of mathematical scribbles.

"If you can think of something of value equivalent to the sum total of your current balance, plus late fees and the contract renegotiation fee, I'll hear you out." She tapped the .00 at the end of the price and smiled flatly. "I even rounded down for your convenience."

Trevor had nowhere near that much money, and the ability to fashion anything she desired out of sticks and leaves precluded Moira from a reliance on currency. Even his 2001 Kia Sorento wouldn't cover the debt. There was nothing material he could offer... but something about her wording nagged at him.

"How do you define 'value'?" An almost visible smile threatened to crack Moira's mask of businesslike appraisal.

"Just that: value. Objects, experiences, things someone would want." Trevor had no evidence to suggest what she might want outside of sex and calculating interest rates, conversation more of a rarity with Moira than getting her to cum. What did he know about her? She at least appeared female, she obviously had physical cravings, she lived all alone in the middle of the woods for who knew how long...

"When was the last time you went on a date?" A burst of hopeful energy propelled Trevor to sitting when he saw slight, but still legitimate, confusion draw down the corners of her muzzle, the first actual emotion outside of indifference or mildly amused arousal she had ever shown around him. "You know, dinner, a movie, some shopping maybe, finish it all off with some..." His eyes darted to and from her splayed open legs, still blushing at the sight after all the time his face had spent between them. "Intimacy?" Her face lit up with comprehension.

"Oh, a courtship ritual! Actually, I don't believe I've ever been the target of such affections."

"Then let me take you out! If it's the only date you've ever been on, that would make it pretty valuable, right? Scarcity equals value, or something, right?" She winced at his phrasing of the economic principle, but seemed to concede his general point.

"Very well. I'll arrive at your domicile in three days, I trust that's enough time for you to organize something. I'll start the paperwork now." Leaves gathered into a plush pile behind her, and she leaned back and guided Trevor's face to her vagina, still leaking with his semen. "In the meantime, back you go."

Dressed in black spats, plain slacks and a solid blue button up (the fanciest clothes he owned), Trevor made one more pass over the paper the new agreement was written on, wrinkled from how often he had held it up to his face to examine every word for the slightest loophole or sign of duplicity.

'The undersigned, Trevor Sariga (hereafter referred to as The Signatory) does hereby forfeit his former payment schedule (prior agreement); in lieu of the prior agreement, Moira (hereafter referred to as The Party) agrees to offer one (1) opportunity for acceptable recompense from The Signatory by delivery of: A culinary experience not to total less than $200; an activity The Party and/or The Signatory could reasonably expect, ceteris paribus, to lead to feelings of mutual intimacy and/or respect; at least one (1) moment a disinterested third party could appraise as 'tender'; and a final phallic engagement resulting in orgasm for The Party. Failure of The Signatory to abide by or fulfill this agreement will result in a default to the non payment clause of the prior agreement.'

As legalese as 'treat me like a lady or you're fuckin' dead' could get. He used his last sick days from his new job to plan, and spared no expense, treated no detail as trivial: how to order food in Italian, how to give backrubs, how much a limousine would cost. Not even the glares from the people at the bookstore when he purchased a copy of 'Flattering Women 101' deterred him from his preparations. The plan was solid, with clearly defined goals and multiple contingencies: dinner at Corleone's (there was no drink on the menu under $20), early clubbing at The Rainbow Claw before it got crowded (worst case scenario, ecstasy was easy to find there), then clothes shopping and a walk through the park before a midnight showing of 'Maws' (the 1985 version) at the Retroflix. A knock sounded at his door at 5:00 p.m. 'Alright you covetous harpy' Trevor thought, 'Get ready to have your feet swept.'

'Is that what I look like?' Moira stood before his door in a lime green t-shirt and jeans that could be described as the average of all the outfits he had worn when going to see her, complete with his hiking backpack. Dinner plans might need to be rethought. Her self conscious frown betrayed an awareness that something about her manner of dress was inappropriate.

"Trevor. Good evening. I have arrived."

"Moira, hey, how's it going? You wanna, come inside, or whatever?" With the inept grace of someone following a dance everyone knew but her, she entered and took in the sight of his apartment with tactical keenness, eyes lingering uncomprehendingly over the TV and refrigerator. "Is... that all you brought to wear?" The clothing rumpled around her as she deflated.

"I should have known a formal occasion would require different attire. I can rectify this if you can show me garments more suitable." Trevor hadn't been in possession of any dresses since joining Rho Phi Gamma in college, but it couldn't be that hard to describe 'fancy clothes'.

"Well, we're going to a pretty upscale place, so you'll want a nice dress." Moira stared blankly. "Just wear whatever was fancy in... When was the last time you entered civilization?" She put a finger to her muzzle and looked up, thinking.

"I'm not sure... is Abraham Lincoln still the President?"

Ooooooooooooooh. That long, huh? 'What color dress goes best with red hair,' Trevor typed into the advantage he had no reason to assume Moira might be aware of. Seconds later, the internet delivered a menagerie of styles and colors. One strapless green number as illustrative as any other, he poked his phone screen and showed it to Moira.

"This is the kind of thing that's in fashion right now, can you... magic yourself one of those?" The light from the phone screen reflected off Moira's glasses as she stared, wide eyed, mouth slightly agape at the commonplace technological marvel. With a blink, her confident demeanor reasserted itself.

"Yes, I believe so." With a sound like wind rustling through autumn foliage, the raccoon spirit stood naked for a second as her casual apparel transformed to resemble the dress on the screen. The neckline of the moss green garment showed the exact limit of socially acceptable cleavage, her breasts pushed to perkiness by the body hugging bodice. A pair of loosely attached sleeves covered her forearms, and the waistline transitioned to an elegantly flowing skirt that ended below her knees. The backpack was now a sleek black purse that completed the look. She really pulled it off; Trevor felt he was the one under dressed.

"That... yes, that works." 'Tell smart women they're pretty and pretty women they're smart,' rang the memory of advice from 'Flattering Women 101'. As he looked her over, he wasn't sure which kind of compliment the ravishing raccoon warranted.

Dinner was less impressive than the concept of cell phones. Moira spent the entire meal taking notes, some of which were about Trevor, which he only knew because she occasionally mumbled something like 'doesn't know which fork to use for salad' or 'mispronounced chablice'. The club was downright disastrous: the earplugs Moira produced from her bag did nothing to lessen her obvious discomfort at the booming bass, and she actively resisted hitting the dance floor. Clothes shopping was deemed 'a waste of time', though she did shorten her dress to a more skin tight style after seeing it on one of the mannequins. The resounding maybe of the movie still thirty minutes away, they strolled through the park, holding hands because 'that's what you're supposed to do on a date, Moira.'.

Douglass Park was .5 trees per acre of grass and sidewalks and bodega covered picnic tables. Street lamps reflected in the pond like ghostly fish. This was their third lap around the park, and Moira still surveyed their surroundings like the aftermath of a gruesome battle.

"The trees here..." Her eyes misted over, but no tears were allowed to fall. "They're so small... what's wrong with them?"

"I don't know that anything's wrong, that's... just how the trees are." True, compared to the wilderness, the elms of Douglass park were less than impressive, but they were still decorated with leaves and wide enough in the trunk that any one of them would take at least two people to reach all the way around. Still, Moira looked up at the largest with pained sympathy, and leaned into Trevor when he put an arm around her.

"I'd like to proceed to the next activity now," She said into his chest with a tiny voice.

Driving seemed like a thoughtless option. Luckily, the walk to Retroflix gave him the opportunity to explain the cultural impact of 'Maws', how it had instilled a fear of snakes into the entire country for over a decade, and educate Moira on the finer details of the concept of remakes.

"The original is a genre defining masterpiece that shows the timeless utility practical effects will always have in the world of cinema. The remake is a soulless bullshit CGI cash grab."

"If people still paid money to go see it, I don't really see the issue with that," Moira said.

The first movie theatre in the United States opened in 1905, so it was no surprise that Moira was ill versed in theatre etiquette. He hurriedly explained that it was like a play without people, that reacting to the images on screen was acceptable, and even encouraged, but general conversation was frowned upon. Trevor yelped in demonstration when the killer snake assaulted the two teens looking to fool around at Makeout Point. After that, the rigid grip of the uninitiated forest dweller clung to Trevor's arm until the credits rolled.

"And then when the snake was up in the trees?"

"Uh huh."

"And then the search party was walking, and they couldn't see it? And then it showed the other group? And then they came back and the sheriff was just screaming while the snake swallowed him?"

"Uh huh."

"And when it was just looming over that raccoon lady? I thought my heart was going to stop!"

Moira gushed breathlessly the whole walk back to Trevor's place. She marveled at the realistic effects, reverently reviewed the snake's use of its surroundings as they walked up to his complex, and said something about 'how curious it was that shifting morals now permitted pornography to be shown in public' as he unlocked his door. She only stopped once they entered Trevor's apartment to lock her lips with his. Her clothing reverted to a storm of leaves that flitted to the ground as her tongue wrestled playfully with his. "You were off to a slow start Trevor," she said with a sultry look as she unbuttoned his shirt, "but that movie got me very excited for the last item on your contract." She pulled him over to the couch, but he remained standing when she laid back and spread herself before him. She was already excited, time for a gamble.

"Actually, Moira, this is a date, right?" She nodded cautiously as Trevor lowered himself onto the other side of the couch and placed his hands around one of her paws.

"What are- ooohhhh...." The press of Trevor's thumbs around the arch of her right paw melted the raccoon into the couch with a moan that released potential centuries of tension. "Oh, wow, what are you even doing? That's simply divine."

"What, you've never gotten a paw rub before?" Trevor had never given one before, but forty five minutes of internet searching rendered that a pretty moot point. "When you're on a date, you don't just jump into having sex. You have to build up to it, foreplay, inject some romance and stuff like that."

"Ooooohhh... I like foreplay..." Trevor found himself suddenly face to sole with her other paw. "Why don't you handle this one as well?"

Despite walking around in tennis shoes all evening (to be fair, the picture cut off before showing what high heels looked like), she didn't smell or taste unpleasant, but rather like wet dirt an hour after a rainstorm, natural and absent any kind of attempt to distract from it. She started touching herself, luridly rubbing her clit and wiggling involuntarily as Trevor licked and stroked her paws, both of which came in contact with his face when he momentarily paused to finish undoing his shirt. He kept his face within easy reach of Moira's paws, her toes dipping in and out of his mouth as he discarded his pants and underwear. Once he was exposed, Moira lowered one set of her paw pads to stroke his already iridium hard member. He let her continue to tease him as he resumed massaging the paw on his face, running his tongue and hands over it in equal measure.

"Oh, Trevor, this is easily the best you've ever been. If you'd been doing this months ago, I'd be the one paying you." Playing prostitute to a hard line loan shark raccoon spirit had dubious appeal, but he raised his hips against the paw stroking his shaft at the sentiment.

Moira pried her labia open with two fingers, while a third coaxed fluids to keep her clit friction free. Moans of approval at the multiple stimuli urged Tevor put more of himself into his efforts. Too enamored with his newly found paw massage prowess, he didn't notice the transformation initially: He didn't see Moira's clitoris swell and grow, a centimeter, then an inch, then two, then three. He didn't notice her labia fusing into one solid sack-like structure. Even when she ceased to stroke her clitoris and started jacking her dick, the increasing pitch of Moira's grunts and the thought of finally being able to reliably please the demanding raccoon kept him firmly focused on her paws, both the one he was giving attentions to and the one giving attentions to him.

He did notice when her rod had grown so large she had to use both hands on it. He stopped to ask 'what the fuck', but his mouth was filled with raccoon toes before he could get a single word out. She licked her tip and took dainty, teasing swallows of the pre that leaked out as she rubbed her breasts against the veiny monster resting on her chest.

"What?" she asked when she could manage to tear herself away from her autofellatio. "When I wrote 'final phallic encounter', did you think it was going to be with yours?" In the time it took for her to ask her rhetorical question, her cock had grown another several inches, now thicker around than her waist, the glans in line with the top of her head. It was now so large and heavy that it pinned her to the couch. Likewise, her massive testicles propped her legs to prime paw licking position as they rested on top of Trevor, trapping him on the couch. She panted faster as it kept growing, the trickle of pre now a steady stream that dribbled down her gargantuan rod, off the sides of her stomach and onto the floor.

"Oh gods, Trevor, I'm getting close..." How playing with her hind paws or the growth of her cock were bringing her closer to climax, or even how she'd managed to grow a penis in the first place, were distant concerns. Trevor was so close to being free of his debt that he could taste it even above the earthy raccoon paws. Her cock drooped under its own weight with a circumference that spread her legs to the point her paws could no longer reach Trevor's face, and her bean bag sized balls pinned them both to the couch. "OK... Ok... I think that should do it..."

"Do what?" Trevor's question was answered when Moira's cock bent over him, drooling precum that splattered against his face. "Uhh... Moira? What exactly is it I'm supposed to do here?" He asked in a shaky voice as his mind conjured the 'prior nonpayment clause'.

"Well, you don't need to do anything, '' she responded matter-of-factly. The glans opened wide and drenched the pinned opossum with a flood pungent fluids. "Though if you want to thrash around a little bit, that always feels pretty good."

Her cock lowered itself like a snake striking in slow motion. Trevor's eyes bulged as it roughly swallowed his torso. Moira squealed as her dick devoured Trevor, sucking him up with undulations that pulled him from under her sack. Trying to push away was a useless effort, as the lubricant that coated him and eased his ingestion prevented him from getting a solid grasp. Trevor tried to call out, to scream at her to stop, but his mouth was filled by the constant stream of pre. He held his breath as the squelching passage before him filled with the raccoon's effluence, before he felt himself flip upside down. His arms were completely immobilized, squeezed against his sides with enough force that he couldn't even take full breaths. The impossibility of escape didn't stop him from trying. He heard muffled cries of pleasure as he tried to do something, anything to reverse the situation. Moira's thick cock proved too powerful, and he slipped in with a sickening slurp that followed him all the way down.

The stinging stink of fresh semen hit him like a slap as his face entered the interior of her scrotum, which, he noted bizarrely, wasn't two separate testicles, but instead one chamber of spunk already full up to his shins. He fought with the desperate power of adrenaline against the constricting walls that pressed in on him from all sides, raising the pool with every squeeze, relenting only to crush in on him again, even tighter. Panic blinded him to the burn in his chest from the stale air, or that his leg ended now in a stump, his own paw melted and joined with the rest of the encroaching liquid. He only noticed when his attempts to keep the ball walls away lost effectiveness as his limbs melted into yet more sickly sweet smelling semen. It wasn't painful, like he thought being dissolved into cum would be, more a feeling like the instant before a sneeze, only focused in his extremities. The spectacle only made him thrash harder, forcing even louder sounds from the raccoon he was contained within. His mass added enough to the pool that his head sunk beneath the surface with every contraction. In desperation, he swallowed mouthfuls of cum, trying to maintain just a little space so he wouldn't be completely submerged, which only introduced the unpleasantly pleasurable tingle straight to his stomach. His will to fight ebbed as the numbing sensation spread through his disintegrating body. He soon resembled a melted snowman, the grey in his fur melting away to a shiny white. His final thought before being completely digested into raccoon jizz was 'fuck'.

Trevor awoke, shaking and in desperate need of a shower, in a puddle that spread all across the living room and into the kitchen. Suspecting a trick, he patted at his sides, and ran his hands up and down his body, scraping up handfuls of semen in the process. His entire apartment smelled like an orgy of guests inconsiderate enough to not clean up after themselves. Moira, likewise covered in jism, panted as her cock shrank, returning her genitals to their normal configuration.

"What the actual legitimate for real no holds barred fuck was that?!?" Trevor screamed, slipping in the puddle as he tried to stand.

"Your last requirement to pay off your contract." Moira said sleepily. "And I must say, you performed with aplomb."

"You-you ate me! You fuckin' turned me into jizz!" He succeeded in rising to his feet, and took an unsure confrontational step towards the lounging mustelid.

"And then I turned you back. I don't really see what you're shouting about."

There was a certain bureaucratic logic to that, but it didn't change the way he felt.

"Then we're done here. Leave. Get out. I don't ever want to see you again." Moira didn't even bother to feign injury as she rolled over to look and picked a handful of soggy leaves that transformed to a fanned stack of $100 bills before Trevor could even register the change.

"I had a wonderful evening, over all. Some things I would do different, certainly, but I'm already thinking what I would like to do next time." The splooge covered cash waved in the air between them.

"There's... not going to be a next time..." Trevor said, transfixed by the wad of bills. "I think I'm done dealing with spirits." Moira hefted herself to standing, walked over to him and gave him a deep, spooge laden French kiss.

"But I don't think I'm done dealing with you." She actually smiled at him. That tingling sensation returned, and before his eyes, Trevor's hand started melting away again. It instantly returned to normal as he pulled away. "I can rectify that, but you'll need to see me a few more times. I'll even make the outings worth your while." She smacked the stack of hundreds into his chest. It stuck there, affixed to his fur by surface tension. "I'll start the paperwork tonight.