FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"You got the bag?"

Gordon was already wrapping a t-shirt around his fist. "Yup. Got those sticky fingers ready?"

Frankie wasn't taking any chances: his paws were gloved all the way down to the joints of his wrists.

"Ready to feel refreshed," he said, wiggling his fingers to make sure he was loose and limber. "I need a beer in the worst way, dude."

The horse and fox duo weren't big name criminals by any stretch of the imagination, but they were starting to gain a little notoriety in the slums for being an effective smash-and-grab team. Gordon, the horse, would act as the muscle and make a huge mess of the place while Frankie, with his quick feet and dexterous paws, would grab up whatever they were in the mood for.

With the heat of summer dawning on the city and drink prices going through the roof, the boys didn't feel they were committing much of a crime by breaking a few windows and snatching a bottle or two of cheap beer.

"One 30 pack, coming right up!" Gordon huffed under his breath, as he punched right through the front window of the locked convenience store. They'd waited just long enough for the owner to put the locks on the door before they started their raid, and in the cover of darkness, Gordon pushed the shards away and Franked slipped in the bottom of the ruined frame.

They knew the store well enough to blow past the aisles of snacks, periodicals and little knick-knacks that decorated the shelves. It was little more than a distraction for Gordon to topple as many of them as he did, but that would keep any onlookers from playing the part of the hero; Frankie never needed long to make his way to his target and swipe it away.

As he rattled through the different bottles and foolishly took his time picking out just the ones he wanted, Gordon looked around the store with a concerned curiosity. "Uhm...wasn't the owner of this place just in here?" he asked, keeping his voice as low as he could. "Like, literally just a few seconds ago?"

"Dude, I don't know! Just help me grab some of these bottles so we can get going!"

Frankie was focused on the mission, but Gordon was unnerved by the fact that the owner should have already been rushing in, guns blazing for the intruders.

Once the rattling of the bottles settled, it was eerily quiet in the store, even for one in a slum neighborhood. "Forget the bottles, Frankie. We gotta go."

"I've already got th-

"I said we've gotta go, now!" he countered. When the muscle made a declaration, Frankie knew better than to argue with it, but old habits died hard...and the fox simply couldn't live with parting from the bottles that he'd already touched.

The potential for DNA evidence was just too great for him to ignore, and he wasn't going to see his winning streak ended by a sloppy, botched robbery.

"Take these," Frankie demanded, shoving a few large bottles into Gordon's chest. His bag was already stuffed to the brim with smaller delicacies, but even he was starting to feel a bit uneasy about how smooth things were going. "Now let's beat feet!"

Every time they broke into a store, even when they were rushed right back out by a watchful owner with a gun, it felt hours were passing before they actually made it back outside.

This one felt longer than any heist before it, and both the fox and the horse could feel their hearts pounding as they clamored through the broken glass and into an alleyway nearby.

The hardest part was always the stashing and waiting: hiding the stuff somewhere they couldn't be connected to it and listening for the sound of sirens in case they needed to ditch their prize and make a run the opposite direction.

This time, Frankie was already popping a bottle and chuckling. "I just realized something, Gordo: that was our 100thheist!" he cheered, admiring the malt beverage with a longing gaze. "To our continued success?"

It went against all of their practices, but Gordon had a desert for a throat; he couldn't help popping the top from one of the larger bottles and sharing a clink with Frankie. "To another hundred," he concurred.

Their heads tilted back, their mouths opened, and a pair of chloroform rags went right into their muzzles.

**

Druggy side effects were just a small price to pay for Frankie and Gordon getting to keep their lives, but whether they would be allowed to leave with them had yet to be revealed.

Frankie was still coming to, as the smaller of the pair. Gordon had been awake for a minute or two already, but he was struggling to find any words, fearing that the wrong ones might cost him his life.

He scarcely let out a breath until he saw Frankie's eyes open. "Oh, thank f-fucking hell, you're still alive...I thought he mighta just up and killed you!" he tried to say, but he found it difficult to talk around the gag that stuffed his muzzle.

"No, I'm...I'm still alive. Not sure I'm gonna be happy about that in a few minutes, though," Frankie tried to admit, but his words were similarly garbled. The fox looked around and noticed that the room was still spinning, but he quickly determined that it had nothing to do with the chemical grogginess that came with a dose of chloroform.

He was hanging from the ceiling, right next to Gordon, and saw the horse in a similar situation. Their bodies were bound in a hogtie, making his squirming efforts useless. A gag in his mouth kept him from speaking normally, but he did his best to make out the labored grunts of his partner-in-crime, as a set of footsteps alerted them to the presence of their captor.

The shop owner looked absolutely chipper for someone who was just robbed, but as far as he was concerned, they'd done him a favor by providing him with an evening of entertainment.

"You two planning on returning all of those drinks you stole from me?" he asked, as he walked down the tired, old staircase. The basement below the store property was just high enough for a taller man to stand upright in, but the dim lights gave off an eerie glow, at best: cast in their orange halo, the owner of the store looked like a villain approaching a pair of captured heroes.

In reality, justice had already been served, as the shoplifters were caught red-handed. The right thing for the man to do would have been to call the police and have the boys taken away for their crime, with charges to be pressed later to make up for all the product and hardware they damaged.

Unfortunately for Gordon and Frankie, Ramon wasn't the kind of guy to call the cops when a situation turned rough and tumble.

"I'll take your lack of response as you pleading the fifth, and in my courtroom, that's no different than a confession...especially when you had that whole knapsack full'a brews with you. If you were smart enough to do a smash and grab, why the hell did you stop running so close by?"

The quiet clip-clop of Ramon's hooves became the sound of a death march, as the goat drew closer to his hanging captives. "Oh well...you thieving types never were the smartest bunch, in my experience. You really could have gotten away with it, but on the other hand...I'm kinda glad that you didn't. I've been bored out of my mind on this side of town since they started gentrifying the old neighborhood, and I've been in need of a different kind of entertainment; the kind of show that money can't buy. Ya dig?"

Neither one of them even tried to reply, given the gags in their muzzles. There was a quick meeting of the minds between the hanging captives as they looked to each other, but they were afraid to ask, even if they could mumble out the words.

"Basically, you two are gonna pay me back in a little show," Ramon explained. "And given that you've got three or four felony charges waiting just a phone call away...something tells me that you two are gonna wise up really quick and just take what's coming to you."

It didn't sound like the goat was going to kill them, but the pair of burglars didn't feel comfortable about their fates just yet, seeing how quickly and easily the older looking Ramon was able to sling them up from the ceiling. They'd already been bound, gagged and stripped naked, but now, there was a promise of even more punishments before they'd be allowed to walk free.

"If you two actually took the time to explore the whole store, you'd have found that I've got much more expensive things than a few malt beverages in store," Ramon explained. He walked to a rusted storage shelf and looked across a few items that had gone quite some time since their last use, but he gave them a familiar smirk as he procured the longest one and held it up before his prisoners. "And what kind of a businessman would I be if I didn't do a little bit of self-advertising?"

Gordon's member was large enough that even when flaccid, there was flesh to be grabbed and held onto as Ramon slipped one end of a long, latex sleeve over it. Frankie wasn't a slouch by any means, and was plenty hung for a fox...but his cock disappeared, too, when the other end of the latex slipped over it.

"Remember those little finger-torture traps you played with as kids? Some people got bored of them awfully quick, but me? I got inspired."

They couldn't move much in their hanging bondage, but even the natural swing of the ropes above them left Gordon and Frankie to move slightly apart...and as they did, they both felt a strange tightness at the base of their cocks.

"Fascinating stuff, isn't it?" Ramon asked. Letting them adjust to the new, gripping sensation, the goat moved back to his tool rack and grabbed a couple of more obvious toys. "Now, we're gonna play a little game, and maybe if I have enough fun with it, I'll let the two of you go...but how about some rules first?"

Ramon was in the theater of his own mind, putting on a show for himself and using the failed robbers as something even less than enslaved actors; they were effectively props on his mentally twisted stage.

Treating them as little more than property, he used only the smallest amount of lubricant before stuffing a butt plug right into the exposed pucker of each of his captives.

"Oh, I'm sorry...was that a little too rough? Maybe next time you won't go throwing shelves to the ground and costing me thousands of dollars when all you were after was a fucking beer!" he yelled right into Gordon's ear, and the poor equine was left wondering if the weight of the plug, or the shouting voice was causing him greater discomfort. "And you, foxy...you're no innocent player in all of this. You broke so many bottles going for the cheap stuff that I'm probably out a couple hundred in that department, too!"

Frankie bit down on his gag and winced his eyes when the weight of a plug stabbed into his tailhole, offering just enough lubricant that it would shove its way inside...but the fox worried about ever being able to get it out.

As uncomfortable as they were, the subtle vibration and hefty weight of each plug had the desired effect: Ramon watched with sadistic delight as their cocks, still trapped by the sleeve, began twitching to life through their physical response.

"Now that you're both plugged in, I'll tell you the rules; it's a really simple game, but I'm sure the two of you are gonna have loads of fun before it's all said and done," Ramon mentioned. His digits trailed down the hoses sticking out of the back of the butt plugs, and internally, Gordon and Frankie felt something oddly hollow, if there was a cool puff of air within their anal passages. "If you work your hips just enough, you two will be able to swing from that ceiling...so you're gonna swing, back and forth, until one of you gets off from that genius invention of mine. Whoever blows first is gonna be let free!"

The loyalty between thieves was never put to such a test before: Gordon and Frankie gave each other a stern glare, knowing that they didn't have a choice in whether they played the game or not.

"But that's not all, my friends! Whoever loses still gets something for their efforts: since you two had such a strong thirst before, I decided I'd prep a little drink for you...but you already had something in your mouths, so I went ahead and put the hose somewhere else."

Frankie gulped around his gag: he knew exactly what that meant, without the words actually being said.

"Don't worry about it hurting too much: It's just some expired soda that I had lying around...nothin' that's gonna kill you or anything like that. Probably won't tickle though; what am I saying? It's gonna tickle like hell!"

After 99 successful heists without a single arrest, trip to the hospital, or even as much as a scratch on either one of them, Gordon and Frankie saw their good luck being used up all in one trip, as they suffered the tortures of the most devious shop owner in the entire city.

Frankie was willing to give things a shot just to try and escape, but Gordon, despite his lack of a leg to stand on, shook his head defiantly.

"Thought you might not wanna play, big guy...so here's the deal: I've got a couple of hoses back here, lined up to these big ol' bottles of soda. The only reason you aren't getting two liters in the ass already is because of these clothespins, but they're getting ready to come undone, aren't they? I'd say you've got until these ice blocks melt until you both get a free drink from yours truly!"

The system was incredibly intricate, especially to be put together by a humble store owner, but time was wasting as an ice block melted beneath each of the captive robbers. There was a weight rigged in the ice, and when it melted, the weight would drop and snap the clothespins apart.

While Frankie rolled his eyes at how overcomplicated the rig was, Gordon was staring the goat down, as if he could manage a threat against the man in the first place.

"Now, you two might wanna get started! It's awfully hot down here, after all," Ramon reminded them. He stepped in close to each of the captured robbers and pulled the gags from their mouths, tossing them on the floor. "I'll be watching, whatever you decide to do...best of luck to the both of you!"

The goat gestured to a camera in the corner of the basement, capturing their every move for what could only be called 'future reference.' Gordon suddenly shrunk back as he felt more self-conscious about the whole affair, but Frankie had already made up his mind about giving it his best shot.

Clenching his backside on the plug and moaning around his gag, the fox did his best to move, as if he were starting up a swing on a swing set. Tensing his arms and rolling his hips in unison, he was just able to get his ropes rocking, and despite the disgust he felt at the rest of the arrangement...

...He let out a sharp gasp as the unique toy suckled at the base of his cock. With his eyes closed, he could almost picture the image of a sex-starved lover on their knees before him, giving credence to just what an impressive toy the old goat had created.

If Gordon asked about it later, Frankie made a mental note to deny enjoying any aspect of that evening, but he was already uncomfortable enough with a hose up his ass: having an orgasm sounded so much better than having expired soda shot into his backside.

"Frankie, don't...d-don't you fucking dare give into him!" Gordon yelled, trying his best to stay still. "I'm not playing his sick, twisted games and you shouldn't either!"

Just trying to get their bodies moving was enough to set the toy working against the two of them; even trying to stop their momentum left Gordon's face twisted up in a physical bliss that he didn't want to acknowledge.

"What choice do we have?" Frankie asked, but feeling Gordon try to steady himself, he played along, doing all he could to steady their inertia. "There's no other way out of this!"

"We don't know that he's gonna let us go. He could be lying!"

"A whole lot of good that revelation does us now, crash!"

"Oh, fuck off. That's worked for us every other time! You're the one who just had to have a fucking drink around the block!"

Frankie clenched his fangs tight and growled at his former partner, but as they hung helpless, he tried to let a cooler head prevail; they'd never figure things out if they were just yelling at each other.

"Look; we both screwed up a little bit and got sloppy. Let's just put that aside and start getting out of this, okay? We can regroup somewhere a little more comfortable."

"Dunno if I'll ever feel comfortable again after this...that's more of you than I ever wanted to see," Gordon admitted. "Or feel, for that matter."

The latex grabbed tightly enough that the boys could feel each other's natural throb, down to the very last pulse of their cocks. It was uncomfortable for a myriad of reasons, but Frankie was trying to approach with logic, rather than delight.

"Right back at you, but...just start moving with me. If one of us gets off, we're one step closer to getting out of here."

Remembering their previous century-mark of successful heists, Gordon let his head nod regretfully. "Not a word of this to anyone , Frankie."

"Again...right back at you."

Clenching again, Frankie sent the momentum back to Gordon, who waited to feel out how far his body would swing. At the peak of his body moving backwards, he clenched up his larger body and sent a wave of force back to Frankie, who did all he could to stifle the awkward moans that passed his lips.

Mentally, he wanted to completely disconnect from everything that was happening.

Physically, his body was being put through so much that he wasn't able to pretend any longer: he was enjoying the literal pleasure of the act, and though Gordon didn't want to admit it, he was in the same boat, having such a sensitive rod that he couldn't help deriving some bliss from it.

"I think it's...s-starting to work," Frankie admitted, though he couldn't look Gordon in the eye while saying it. "If we keep this up, w-we...we should be able to get free!"

Their teamwork took just a little too long to synthesize.

"Yeah! Just k-keep...thrusting..." Gordon whimpered, but as he gave another long, heavy thrust into the air, he felt something shift behind him...and an immediate, uncomfortable weight passing through the tight pucker of his tailhole.

His stifled whimpering was utterly silenced by a shrill whine: the ice block had melted, and the SNAP of the clothespin was the last thing either one of them heard, until the quiet fsssssh of carbonation hailed the beginning of Gordon's worst torture.

A thick torso allowed just a tiny bulge to appear as the two liter emptied inside of the equine, and as he watched, Frankie couldn't keep his jaw from dropping. He could only imagine the discomfort Gordon was going through, as his body tensed up, and then went unnervingly still.

"Gordon, c-come on, man! We're so close to getting out of this thing! You've gotta keep working!"

The horse could scarcely open his eyes; taking such a massive fluid load was exhausting to him, but a shudder of effort went through him as he gave another roll of his hips.

"Just get me the hell out of here, Frankie...are you...a-are you really that close?"

"Please don't say it like that," Frankie groaned, but all the same, he couldn't hide anything from his longtime muscle. "But...nnnyeah..."

Rolling his eyes before he closed them, Gordon did his best to focus on giving the same slow, thrusting pace he would offer to a potential lover, and Frankie felt the immediate benefit from it as a long, slow suckle embraced his vulpine cock.

The fox closed his own eyes thereafter and did his best to envision his last lover, finding it was all he could do not to feel repulsed by his own physical ecstasy. He couldn't resist the oncoming flood of cum much longer, and all he had to do was relax and let it flow.

For my friend, he thought. May he never speak a word of it to anyone.

Relaxing in a moment of such blissful tension was difficult, but Frankie did the best he could as the toy between them tightened further and further, until there was nearly a vacuum seal against his flesh. It simulated a tie at the base of his knot, and finally, the weakened equine managed to get his friend off.

His reward, though he saw it as more of a punishment, was to feel a gush of thin, heated cum spraying across his own length, soaking him with a fluid that he never wanted to feel from his friend ever again.

"T...There!" Frankie grunted, looking back at the camera the best that he could. His body was still rocking with the tremors of a forced orgasm, and seed was still bursting from the tip, but he tried to keep his composure as the sleeve finally came loose, as close as they were. "I won, you s-sick, twisted bastard! Now let me outta here!"

It was a slow night at the store: Ramon was able to come right back down the stairs to check on the progress of the guilty pair, but as he watched from the stairs and saw his clever intention fall to the floor in a puddle of vulpine mess, he shook his head.

"I'm afraid I'm the only winner here, boy. You didn't _really_think I'd let you go after having that kind of fun, did you?"

As the goat walked back up the stairs, Frankie's jaw dropped and stayed dropped: the familiar SNAP of a clothespin and an uncomfortable, rushing flood of soda into his asshole were more than he could handle after the effort he'd expended.

Shaken and betrayed, Frankie heard the insidious chuckle of the goat last, before unconsciousness took him once more.

**

"Frankie?"

The fox was having a terribly difficult day, but Gordon wasn't going to let him sleep the rest of the night off.

"Wake up, dude! Frankie!"

Gordon snapped awake just a few seconds earlier, but he shook off the grogginess quickly when he noticed that he was still in the alley.

"Do I really need to be awake right now?" Frankie asked, thinking that he was at home, in bed; the cold, wet asphalt of an alleyway was a much less comfortable place to wake up. "...The fuck?"

Frankie and Gordon were the type to celebrate their success with one hell of a party, but this was the first time they'd ever woken up in an alley without any clothes on. The fox hugged his tail over his shame and the horse crossed his legs, but as they moved, they felt a bubbling puddle around their backsides...a small pool of soda was still fizzing around them, stirred by their movements.

"We, uh...we did just dream that whole thing with the goat, right?" Gordon asked, not wanting to believe it was real.

Frankie would have been fine with pretending, as well; the photograph on the ground between them wouldn't allow him that relief.

As he picked it up, he saw an image of their soda-filled, cum-soaked bodies, but Ramon was nowhere to be found in the shot. He flipped the picture around to the back and read a rather damning note from the shopkeeper, but considering that he'd let them go...things could have been much worse.

"Say anything about this to anyone, and the video will spill a lot faster than those bottles did..."

Frankie gulped as he finished reading the warning. He shared a knowing look with Gordon, and sticking to the back alleys, they made their way home...but they never crossed paths with the sinister goat ever again.