FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Splicer was exhausted, three straight days of travel was wearing on the wolf. His sword strapped firm to his waist felt like an anchor, the steel plating on his shoulder was pressing on his body hard. His fur glistened with sweat. The only light thing on him was his coin purse. He finished off the last of his rations as he finally saw the town come into view at the foot of the hill he was trudging down. The dry bread was clinging to his maw, he took a long drag from his last waterskin but all he got was air. A smile crept across his muzzle as he began wondering whether it would hurt more to keep walking, or if he could just roll his way down the hill.

"Scuse me, I was wondering if you had any rooms available? Preferably cheap..." Splicer shyly added, looking at the inn keeper who busied themself by polishing a glass.

"You look like you've come a distance..." The otter took a small glance up, sizing the large grey wolf up.

"Yeah, from Yenterhern..."

"That is a long way! How many coins do you have?"

"About ten..."

The innkeeper took a sharp breath in, before letting it out, long and slow.

"Well I hate to turn a wanderer in need away, I can give you a room on the house tonight, and if you need it for longer I can put you to work."

"Thank you! I shouldn't need more than a night's rest, I'll just be passing through! I better go try and secure some supplies for the road now, thank you again! The wolf dropped his armour and weapon off at the closest to the streps and bounced off out the door.

"Just passing through, yeah?" The inn keeping otter muttered to himself as he kept rubbing the well polished glass, lost in thought.

Everyone in the town Splicer met and talked to was beyond kind, the stall runner he got his next set of rations from barely even haggled and his bag was filled with supplies, even with the meager sum he offered for them. The only odd thing he noticed was everyone in the town seemed to have a tag dangling from their right eat, inscribed with what seemed like a random number. He shrugged it off, chalking it up to an odd town tradition. The wolf had been fond of travel, he had found many similar odd habits in the places he visited, and he did his best to not their customs. He figured he had some odd rituals that others would find just as strange as a numbered tag dangling from a silver piercing.

The inn was filled with furs, who themselves were filled with laughter, stories and drinks. Splicer found himself quickly caught up in the erratic energy of the bar crowd, drinking glasses of draught and cider that were sloppily shoved into his paw. He lost count of how many glasses he drank, or how many stories he told of his cross-country capers, caves filled with artifacts once thought lost, all for the thrill of it, the coin the guild gave him was a nice touch too. Soon he staggered up to the innkeeper who was manning the bar, watching the scene from afar.

"I th-think I should hit the hay, should be on the trail by first light..." He slurred out, thinking the last glass might have been a little too much for him.

"Well I won't stop you, but I think you might like one final glass." The otter was already preparing it, pouring a clear liquid from a jug into a glass before adding a single drop from a vial, turning the liquid a shimmering blue.

"What the hell? Is that glowing?" The wolf asked, looking into the glass that was now firmly in his paw.

"Yes, it's a special drink. It brings good fortune to those who drink it, at least so they say..."

"I think I've had a little too much to drink already..." Splicer felt the cup hit the counter, spilling some of the liquid on the surface and coating his paw fur. Suddenly he realized the bar had gotten eerily quite compared to the night's cheer. He didn't need to turn around to know all eyes were squarely on him and the drink.

"No, please, we insist. It's a rite of passage in our town, a tradition if you will.

The word tradition was bouncing around in the wolf's skull, tracing lines through him, tradition, he couldn't turn down their tradition, especially when everyone had been so kind. A sober Splicer might have still turned down the drink, probably not though. He swallowed hard, before bringing the drink to his muzzle, swallowing again, and again, and again.

The glass was empty, he slammed it on top of the counter to thunderous cheers from the crowd behind him, he felt, invigorated, like the liquid he drank was made of pure lightning, he felt like he could run to the next town without pause, he felt, so tired...

"Easy there..." The otter warned as he swaggered to his feet, crashing heavy into the chest of a large panther.

"S-sorry." The wolf looked up sheepishly, looking at the panther through bleary eyes.

"No problem buddy, we'll set you right! Don't worry." The panther said with a chipper tone, yet something felt off in the words.

"Thank you..." Splicer felt his tongue drop out of his mouth as he relaxed into the strong arms holding him up.

He was carried up the stairs, brought into the room, laid down in the bed gently. He whined and squirmed as he felt his clothes being peeled of his now sweat slick fur. A moment ago he felt fine, now, he felt like he was being held right up to a fire.

"None of that, you need to be naked for the ritual..." The panther cooed in close to his ear, breath making it twitch.

"R-ritual?" Splicer moaned out, unsure if he was feeling terrified or excited, the drink making his head spin so violently he could hardly tell what emotion he was feeling.

"The drink was only the first step, there's so many more to go! You should get some sleep, close your eyes now."

The panther's words were impossible to resist, Splicer felt his eyes slowly closing, the last thing he saw were paws roughly sizing his sheath up.

His eyes shot open, he felt a splitting headache hitting him, at least it was dark in his room. He felt panic rising in his chest when he realized he wasn't in the inn's room, instead he could see the dark outline of rocks lining the walls, he was in a deep cave, deep enough he couldn't see any sign of light from any of the black voids branching out from the room he was in. He wiggled his arms and legs, but rough rope was rubbing through his fur and irritating his skin with each movement, but he struggled anyways. From what he could tell he was tied with his forearms tied behind his back, chest to the back of a chair and legs tied tight to its legs. He pulled his arms back, but he couldn't disjoint his shoulders, and the ropes were showing no give. Splicer spent the next few minutes, maybe hours trying to piece together the bits and pieces of last night, but all he could remember was flashes, a paw on his sheath, the innkeeper's smile and the blue drink, that bright blue light was so vivid in his head it was like he could still taste it on his tongue. Orange flickers of flame stared traveling down the passageway to his right.

"Well you woke up, faster than usual, but something tells me you've been looking for something like this to happen to you for a while." The otter taunted him, passing the torch to the panther. It was a party of five, most of them he could recall passing by gathering supplies in the village. Still, he could tell there were other's watching the show from just out of his vision.

"I don't know what this is, but whatever it is. Please, just let me go!" Splicer begged; any dignity already far gone in the pursuit of self preservation.

"What this is? This is tradition, you'll understand. Nice backpack by the way, makes carrying all sorts of stuff very convenient, I took a peek while you were asleep and you sure were carrying an interesting load..."

Splicer's face burned red in the torchlight at the accusation, he knew what the otter meant. The otter knew too, but he still took out the intricate glass work toys the wolf traveled with, various shapes and sizes of different species, most of them knotted, laying them on a blanket laid out on the cavern floor.

"I could see it in your eyes when you came in, nothing to be ashamed of, a bitch is a bitch after all. Not that it would change anything, just makes the breaking in process faster..."

"Look I don't care, you can keep my bag, keep my gold, fuck! Take the toys! I don't care, please let me go! I'll leave, never come back and never tell anyone! Not the guild, not any guard, no one!" Splicer was shouting loud enough that the pathetic pleas he was making bounced down the passages and walls, returning to his own ears, he flattened them to try and keep the sound from hitting him too hard. It only served to make the scene sadder.

"No no no... You have this all wrong, we may have gotten off on the wrong foot." The otter reached down, rubbing the wolf's orbs. "We want you to tell people of us, we want more people to come for the gift."

"I don't want your gift!" Splicer cried out, trying to jump his chair back to get the otter to let go, but a firm paw held him down from behind. The otter looked up with a small knowing nod. Splicer felt a paw holding his ear steady and then it was over. The hot needle pushed it's way past the fur, through his skin, out the other end, steel burning just enough to stop his new hole from bleeding.

A long whine rose in his throat, but he held back, only offering more whimpers.

"Please, please please please please... Let me go." Splicer felt tears dripping down his cheek as something was threaded through his new piercing hole. The he felt something lightly tapping the side of his head as he assumed the same tag he saw the townsfolk wearing was added to his ear.

"Go, go, go, go..." Splicer mumbled under his breath as the adrenaline wore off, leaving him tired. He barely registered the paw sizing his sheath up as they had the night prior. A rough tug on his new ear piercing made him yelp and sit as straight in the chair as the ropes allowed. He swore the tag was about to be ripped out as a voice hissed in his ear.

"Don't you dare pass out before receiving the gift..."

The cool metal slid over his sheath and the strange ring around his balls was quickly and unceremoniously slid over his sheath before being locked fast. An experimental tug, to match the tugging at his ear.

"Alright, the preparations are made, time to bring out the gift!" The otter gave an excited cry, a multitude of voices replied with a single chant.

"Gift!"

Splicer shivered, not wanting any part of the gift, whatever the gift was.

"S-so-someone help..." He gave a disheartened plea to the darkness around, as he watched the otter rummage around in his explorer bag. They returned holding a glass jar, with a bright, glowing slug inside. His eyes widened, it was the exact same blue as last night, he was sure of it. He had been given that thing's juice or whatever and now they were going to make him just straight up eat one. He thought, it would have been luckier if that were the case.

The jar was opened, and gently placed in his lap, the slug didn't waste a second, crawing it's way out, over the bars of his new cock prison. Leaving a bright blue trail in its wake. He tried to struggle, shake it off or something. But it was sticky, and the paws holding him combined with the rope meant his hardest thrashing was barely a wiggle.

'No, no no no, I don't, please? No?" Splicer was feeling his stomach sink as the slug crawled up his ribs. It was some sick joke, some kind of hazing, some kind of shake down.

"You can do whatever you want to me!" He offered in desperation. "Fuck me, FUCKING kill me, just not this!"

"Oh, we'll have plenty of the first, none of the last..." The otter teased, scratching the wolf under his whipping chin. He lost sight of it, he could still feel it travel up the right side of his neck, wasting no time.

Splicer wondered how it knew, maybe the tag he wore had some kind of alluring scent, or maybe the thing was smarter than he gave it credit. In his last moments, feeling the slug creeping up his cheek, tears streaming down his face, chin scratches turned to a vice grip on his muzzle to stop the wolf from impeding the slugs process, he realized something. The tags, they were all being controlled by the slugs, his tag. The slug was at his ear. He knew where the other's slugs were hiding. It wormed its way into his ear, the squishing and slick feeling of it traveling inside him, made him sick, he wanted to throw up. The otter let go, the panther let go, Splicer instantly rocked his chair over, hitting the cave floor with the right side of his head. Over and over again he felt the floor make contact with his temple, but it was already too late, still he tried. Through the headache, through the growing puddle of slick warm liquid, until he felt his head contacting something soft.

"So dramatic... I know deep down you want to be nothing more than the town bitch!" The otter chided. "It's not painful, in fact any second now you should feel..."

The otter's words were lost on the wolf, who let his head come to a rest on the otter's paw. In an instant, the splitting headache was gone. Drool trickled down the side of his muzzle, for a second he wondered if he had bashed himself into a concussion, or better yet, comatose. But he knew better, he could, feel, the slug crawling along his brain, coating it in that blue liquid he drank, making him go limp, pliable, perfect. He could hear voices in his head telling him to give up, submit. It was his voice, but he knew it wasn't actually, it was the slug making him think those thoughts. Yet, he thought them all the same.

The ropes were undone, the wolf lay out on the blanket, next to his prized toys.

"Done struggling now? Do you understand?" The otter crotched down, looking the wolf in the eyes.

"Not... d-done..." Splicer stammered out, feeling his tongue fighting to move through the fog in his head.

"What's your name?" The otter asked, almost shocked the wolf was hanging on to a shred of free will.

"Splicer?" The wolf responded, sounding unsure of himself.

"Whelp, looks like we still have a bit of breaking left... At least you came well prepared!" The otter walked over to the toy collection, picking one out at random.

Splicer felt the spit hit his backside, he wondered for a moment why they didn't opt for the bottle of oil he carried with him in his bag, but his train of thought was interrupted by a sharp yank on his tail, and cold glass pressing up to his hole.

"Loose bitch... shoulda picked a bigger one..." The otter muttered to himself, making sure the wolf could hear the insults.

Splicer couldn't help but let out a moan as the toy slid in with little effort, he wasn't sure why, but it felt like it was going in easier than usual. Even though he couldn't see it he already knew which toy the otter had picked. He tried to tense up, to stop the invasion from continuing, to get his now free arms and legs to respond, but all he did was arch his pack, presenting his tail nice and high for all to see. Despite the pre leaking from his cage and the feeling of pressure building up on his prostate, the wolf still had the sense of self to continue crying. The tears streamed down his cheek; he was marveling at how his tear ducts weren't dried out, but they were working overtime. He hated how he his mind and body were being violated. He especially hated that it felt so good, the whispering in his mind getting louder with each thrust of the toy in his ass. He realized that the tears were no longer clear, he was leaking some mixture of the odd blue liquid mixed with his tears, he could almost feel it mixing into his blood. The pounding continued anyways.

"What. Is. Your. Name?" The otter slammed the knot against the wolf's tail with every word, demanding an answer.

"SPLICER!" He cried out into the cave, ignoring the response the slug tried to put into his maw.

He felt a hard thwack on his balls, the paw of the otter making precise, devastating contact.

"Wrong, try again..." He hissed, daring the wolf to fight back.

The back and forth each unsatisfactory answer getting an answer of a hard ball slap, which was answered in return with a howl and a whine. The slug was taking over, making the pain feel good somehow, despite the wolf wanting no part of any of it, it all felt so good, through his tears, through the assault, he felt the orgasm rising. Numbers rose to the top of his head, he knew his name.

"Again!" The otter pressed hard against the wolf, forcing the knot deep in, pulling it out hard, then knotting him for a final time. He couldn't resist.

"THREE HUNDRED AND SEVEN!" The wolf cried out feeling his balls throbbing, throbbing against the now hard knot deep inside his tailhole.

Splurt. Splurt. Splurt. Splurt.

_ _

_ _ The sound of the wolf's violent creaming filled the inn. An unsure lion watched as a wolf with an odd ear piercing slapped sour cream on top of their fresh baked chips. He was beckoned over with a wide paw motion and a wider smile. The lion sat down, happy to get off his tired feet.

"Hello! You're a new face!" The wolf said, before shoving a chip in his mouth, offering the plate to his new friend.

"Oh, thank you!" The lion muttered out, taking a chip, putting it in his starving maw.

"Come from far?"

"Yenterhern..."

"What a coincidence, I got this piece from there! Doesn't see much use now a days though..." The wolf traced his fingers lovingly down the leather wrapped grip of his sword leaning against the table.

"Oh yeah, the smithy there is great! But aside from that, do you work here?" The lion asked, looking around the rest of the inn's bar, only noticing an otter watching the pair.

"Oh, you could say that, why?" The wolf responded, continuing to chip away at his plate.

"I'm looking for a room... but I'm a little light in coin."

"Is that so, I might be able to help you out, if you don't mind sharing a room with another guy..." The wolf added, making the lion blush and look down at the sour cream on his paw.

"Of course not, it'll just be for a night anyways!" He squeaked out. "But thank you, I appreciate it!"

The lion hopped up, stammering. "Thanks for the supplies, I really should get some chips!" Before running out the door.

The wolf turned to the otter and the two shared a knowing look. Later that night, when the lion was nice and plastered, he pulled the wolf aside.

"I know everyone here'sh got em, but I was, I was wondering why yer ear has a tag sayin' three oh seven..." The lion managed to stumble the words from his mouth.

"Oh, this?" The wolf asked, flicking his ear tag, lovingly carved with his new name. "It's tradition..."