FSE

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Normally, he loved men holding the scruff of his neck. But not today. The hoof, clutching at the fox's neck, pulled and ripped his fur as he was dragged naked down the corridor. The day was hot and stuffy, dry desert heat trapped in the thick jailhouse walls; and the little fox panted, stumbling over his bare paws to keep up with the Sheriff's stride. God, he hated that Sheriff. In fact just knowing what the deer was about to do to him made his tail clench. He stared at the floor, just wishing he could lay his paws on the buck. But even if they hadn't filed his claws and blunted his teeth, he'd barely be able to scratch him. The metal handcuffs clamping his paws behind his back made sure of that. The vulpine sighed. Just one more week. Then he'd be roaming the streets once more, a free animal.

Soon they stopped, the deer reaching for the keychain on his belt. Wait. This wasn't the showers. This wasn't anywhere near the showers. Oh God, why had they stopped here? This was their cell. And if the buck was throwing him in here... oh shit.

"Alright boys, it's show time!"

A rattle of keys, the solid metal clunk of the deadlock, and the sharp screech of metal on rusted metal as the gate swung open. A sudden shove from behind and he fell with a gasp, nearly cracking his head on the concrete floor. For a moment he lay still, curled, quivering as the gate clattered shut again.

He could hear them. Two men, breathing heavily, one with a horse-like snort, the other tinged with a feline growl. The fox shuddered. He knew whose cell this was. Whole jailhouse knew. Every night, just a few doors down, he would hear them. Two wild, pent-up, male animals, locked in a single cell for twenty-three hours each day, unleashing their frustration the only way they could. Of course Sheriff just let 'em get on with it: place this small didn't exactly do solitary. Night after night the fox would curl up on his bunk, paw wrapped around his own dog-like sheath, grinning ear to ear as he listened to those heavy grunts and huffs giving way to savage growls and wild whickering whinnies.

Broad white paws flexed before his nose. Razor-sharp claws unfurled and retracted. He glanced up, still shaking, just in time to see a paw reaching and gripping his neck, hauling him to his knees even as he choked. He knew where that paw would grasp him next, the place where every man grasped; and sure enough the tiger's clawed fingers crawled around to grab at his thick neck scruff, pressing the underside of his muzzle hard against the feline's crotch and grinding them slowly together. A pleasured snarl from above, and an unmistakeable bulge built rapidly in the confines of his uniform, right by the fox's left cheek. Even with the thick material, the scent of tiger arousal trickled through, palpable on the fox's nose. But then he unzipped himself, fishing himself out, and the heat and the muskiness smothered the fox. The big tiger pulsed against the fox's maw, thick and ominous, streaks of feline pre spurting from his tip and smearing into the fox's rust-red fur. His barbs snagged and caught at the fox's smooth fur... oh God, how'd he forget the barbs? Then slowly, the feline wrapped his claws around, and with an impatient snarl he began to stroke. Mindful of his barbs though, he only stroked down, never up, as he coaxed his final two inches to rise beside the fox's face.

The fox's heart raced, paws clenching in the cuffs. His chest heaved, wrinkling his nose as he gulped in hot stale air, saturated with tiger sex. He stared wide-eyed, shaking like a rabbit, straight up at the two. The young tiger, lean for his species but no less powerful, never attempted to hold back his growls, a fang-filled grin on his whiskered muzzle and his deep green eyes glazed and unfocused. His uniform hung open, showing off his muscular, furred, black-and-white striped chest. And to his right stood the brown stallion, the tiger's cellmate (or was that partner?), licking his lips, champing at an imaginary bit and dripping flecks of drool onto the fox's face. His top half was completely bare, overalls wrapped around his legs, and his equine length was on full display, its size already a match for most men. At first it just hung slack, until the stallion gripped the base and slapped it against the fox's nose. As the fox cringed, the equine snorted and shook his black mane, whinnying softly as his length began to rise, quickly surpassing even the tiger's in length and thickness.

Suddenly the fox gagged louder as the tiger hauled him higher, and just as suddenly his muzzle was stuffed. He'd never even realised his muzzle was open. The tiger didn't wait either. Forwards and forwards he thrust, filling the fox's muzzle despite his muffled cries, precum oozing down the vulpine's throat. The tiger's paw, no longer attending to his length, now nestled on the fox's head, pushing him down, down, deeper still, until the tiger's crotch fur brushed at his nose, the feline musk making him sniffle. He drew his tongue back, and mewled in shock as the feline's barbs rasped at his tender tongue. The big cat laughed gruffly - another mate caught out -and wasted no time in rolling his hips, a low rumble building in his chest as instinct took control.

The little fox was helpless. All he could do was close his eyes and focus on breathing through his nose, while the tiger hauled him back and forth, back and forth, clogging his airways. A thick gout of liquid spattered onto his face - that would be the stallion then - soaking right in as the little fox coughed and gagged, tiger fluids now drooling from his maw and chin. God. If only he hadn't whimpered last night: the deer would never have guessed he was into cock. All he had to do was suppress it, just stick a paw to his muzzle when that tiger's roar sent him over the edge. But no, he had to whimper, didn't he? Next thing he saw was a flashlight beam, sweeping over his sticky fur; and as he stared back into the gloom, he just about saw the knowing smirk on the stag's face.

But wait: did he just moan out loud? And between his legs, was that his...? Oh God. Instantly he tucked his tail between his legs, shielding his crotch from view. But he was far too late. Back his sheath pulled, further and further, his bright red tip emerging an inch, then two inches, while a single thin strand of vulpine fluid dripped to the concrete floor. Now the little fox was moaning, tongue and muzzle working hard to compensate for his bound paws, tight on the downstroke, looser over those wicked barbs... and yes, it felt good! Like it always did. As for the tiger, all he did was chuckle, and growl his approval. Still his urgency was plain to feel: the way his back hunched, the way he gripped at the fox's head and - where else? - his neck scruff. The tiger's pleasured growls rang out, echoing around the cell walls and building and building until finally he jerked, letting out a wild, ferocious roar.

He'd heard the tiger roar before. But never this close up. Instantly he pinned his ears to his skull, but still his head rang with the tiger's wild cries, hips bucking into his nose, his muzzle and throat filling quickly with hot tiger semen, the smell and the musk lighting his sinuses from nostril to throat.

With a hard shudder and a mewling growl, the tiger suddenly popped free of the fox. Immediately he grasped the fox's muzzle, snarling sharp-toothed and ordering him to swallow. The vulpine obeyed at once, feeling it all slip down his throat, warming him from within; and the feline patted his cheek.

"Good boy... good kit. Plenty more where that came from."

He stepped aside, and straightaway the stallion took his place. His length was glistening, dribbling horse pre, stroked absent-mindedly by its owner. Gripping it again by the base, the horse smeared it over the kneeling fox, soaking the fur under his chin. The fox licked his messy face, and with a resigned sigh he stretched his maw wide, ready for the stallion.

Just then however, he heard the scrape of rusted hinges, and the solid clip of hooves approach him from behind. He froze. Swivelling an ear, he caught a long hearty growl, and the sound of a zip being hauled down. One firm hoof snapped to his rear, and the fox murred as he felt his tail lifted high. And as he felt and heard the deer - dominant, drawling in his Western accent, praising what a tight little fox he was - all he could do was smile sneakily.

That fucking deer.