FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

QUICK KILLS No 1

MIKE THE RHINO

Back when I hadn't bargained away the spirit and ye vessel hadn't coiled...

I had my fun. Oh yes, I had fun. One particular story comes to mind with a rhino, named Mike. Tall as he was wide, heart of solid gold flake, and a rubber mallet for a cock. That's right, he was 95% perfect but as everything goes, if it's to good to be true, it is. You see, old Michael loved little kids, wasn't shy about it if he thought he could trust you. Having been a confidant to a swath of people throughout my time amongst the mortals, it wasn't hard to get him to trust me. Those strong hands of his groped dragon cheeks w/e I was within reach, damn shame he was more of a taker than a giver, but I never complained.

After a good night of drinking he needed help getting home, seemed his way of inviting me up and I grinned at the thought. Mike was practically out the second I laid him back but was adamant that I kept his legs in the air. Motioning me to keep going every time I thought he'd nodded off, I rode that gray hide until sun peaked through and his snores out cried any bed creek.

* * * * *

It was a raw brisk day, out in a snow laden field,

"Ah, no mans land. It's soo quiet." I spoke with a long inhale and relaxed sigh, not a soul for miles save for some deer bedding nearby.

"I love this part." My growled pleasure accented nicely with a small glass vial snapping in twain. Nothing compares to smelling salts and busted glass loaded into the nose like a shotgun, it'll make anybody come alive. The way they always fought their restraints, I'll never forget it, like a worm plucked from moist soil and tossed onto roiling concrete. Writhing in quickly succumbing consciousness, desperately trying to live, and the slow descent of despair. Mike was no different, he whipped around blasting blood, snot, and glass from under his horn, eyes befalling me.

"Shhhhh, I won't hear a single thing you want to say." I circled, tossing polaroids of toddlers he'd defiled all over him, some sticking, others landing in snow and corn stalk.

"You know, you where so close to being a devils bride? Damn shame you enjoy raping kids." My tail swung sideways, slapping his horn, receiving the foulest look in turn as I spoke. Mike strained, lifting that thick neck to follow me, tugging the rope bound collar thus pulling a stainless anal utensil uncomfortably close to ones inner lining.

"Careful, wouldn't want this hook to slip anywhere unwanted." I teased, claws twiddling the meat hook unceremoniously shoved under his tail,

"Wiggle wiggle." Giving the steel a healthy tug. He looked, fought and kicked but nothing was going to change, not for him, not today. I pulled a key fab from my pocket, and with thumb held prominently over the lock symbol. I hesitated, for the first time I paused, leaning over him, I leaned in, dragging my claws lovingly down his horn, locking lips over the ball gag.

One should always take these rare, odd moments to savor a morsel like this, the slow creeping silence from surrounding fields. Cold, sweet, solitude, only interrupted by an occasional soft breeze. For a final time our breaths clashed, volcanic plumes dashing over each others muzzles with my thumb clicking down. A single frozen winch churned to life, tugging Mikes collar, pulling him away and breaking our kiss.

"Don't worry, if there's enough left of you to have fun with, I will." My words hit their mark, a rather confused look washed in a spin cycle of chaotic panic, taking everything from our armored packiderm whom skidded off through the snow. Indescribably sweet sounds of muffled fear and whirling snow blades made for one of the most unique songs I'd ever heard.

I stripped, letting the field air bite at my bare scales as fast as I could. The climax was coming, Mike fought his restraints tooth and nail once he realized what was going on. Every attempt to survive marked by snow divots on either side of a growing bleat red trail. Yet to no avail, he wasn't going anywhere, it was too late even if he managed to get free. My evil red smile was the last thing he saw, a great crimson devil with wings splayed watching his reckoning. I held out my arms waiting to catch my man . . .

Mike disappeared, replaced by the steady marching of cleavers falling in automation. Their infinite cyclical blades not even slowing under the meaty load. I'd aimed the chute perfectly, sporadically belching an arc of chunky liquid Michael all over me. I bathed in the soupy life shower, with larger unground pieces pelting my wings and arms.

A bit of pain with your pleasure always takes it to new heights, the bastards head landed right in my open arms, well, most of it. Old Mikey had been given a bit of a lobotomy, he was still handsome, rapid eye twitching, covered in splatter, missing forehead and all. The last thing he felt before slipping off to the nether, was my lips pressed to his, our tongues dancing in his bloody, still, mouth.

And Scene! Well, if I haven't scared/cringed you away yet, there's more to cum. How do you know you've finally struck your own personal niche? You feel like you need a cigarette once it's done.