FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Marie's tufted ears flicked in annoyance and paranoia as she slipped through a small hole in the construction site's chain link fence. It must have been cut by some kids, because it was a bit of a squeeze even for her slender body. She curled her long, spotted tail around her left leg as she drew it in last. Feline grace could only get a girl so far; the rest of the time, a girl had to be careful about herself, or she might lose a chunk of her tail to some rough wires. As it was, she had felt her t-shirt and skirt tear on the rough edges and endured some unpleasant scratching.

She wasn't the type to casually violate private property laws, but her favorite hat had been blown straight off her head while she walked down the sidewalk on her way home from work. Unlike everyone else in town, she had had a half day--the only company on her way home came from a gang of juvenile delinquents passing by and the occasional car. Looking around in chagrin, it had taken her several minutes of pacing around the street corner the construction site was located on and trying to jump up and down to see where her hat went until she actually braved breaking in. Something cold and hard had coiled up in her stomach when she'd finally decided, regarding the foggy plastic sheeting that blanketed the fence. Without any tools of law-breaking herself, and at any rate lacking the willpower to use them (even for the recovery of that awesome hat, which had been knitted and felted especially for her), she'd paced the perimeter before finding the way in she needed, located in a narrow, reeking alley.

Oddly, no one was at the site. The dusty grounds were completely abandoned, or so they seemed. She looked up at the huge concrete and steel girder construction; it seemed naked, with only shreds of the same dirty plastic sheeting fluttering from scaffolding. Long, wide concrete pipes had been piled up in one area of the dusty "yard," close to far narrower plastic and metal pipes of various forms, evidently for things like water and electric. Or at least that's what Marie figured; she took messages and set up appointments, she didn't build office complexes.

The day before had seen a thunderstorm, but that particular day was sunny enough that the hard-packed dirt she walked over was dry except for places in the shade and the low points around the pipes. That was encouraging--her hat probably wouldn't be any dirtier than a bit of dust, which she could brush off no problem. If only she could find it. She walked around the building's skeleton, peering in reluctantly. She hated dark places, and a damp wind flowed out of the place. It was kind of forbidding, like a Japanese horror film. No, she'd definitely check out the rest of the place before going in there, even if she was just being a baby afraid of the dark.

The rest of her search saw a similar lack of success. Still, she didn't want to go into that skeleton building unless she absolutely had to, so, feeling a little bit silly, she began investigating the pipes. When she'd been a cub, her mother had enrolled her in one of those preschool programs that catered to working moms; the one Marie had gone to was actually converted from a farm and in a rural area of spectacular beauty. There had been a fenced-off area nearby where feral horses were kept, and only a few yards off had been three massive concrete tubes--at least they'd seemed huge at the time, much larger than some of the pipes at the site. The cubs and kits would make a beeline to that area when released to the yard, and eventually would be chased back to the fence line by the feral horses. Marie only learned much later how cruel people considered keeping horses uncivilized like that, as if the beasts who walked upright thought like the ancient humans and considered horses non-sentient. At the time, the horses had seemed terrifying, and the thundering of their hooves on the field made the pipes vibrate and seem almost claustrophobic despite their size. She'd always been terrified as a cub that they would trap her in that pipe and toy with her as she'd played with bugs caught in jars.

Her skin heated up at the memory. "Stupid," she muttered, scratching at her dark mane at the twinge of embarrassment. She peered into one in the center and sighed with relief. There was her hat--almost in the middle of the thing, quite naturally in the darkest part of the pipe, but it didn't look wet or nasty. The pipe was a little damp and cool, but she didn't think she'd get very dirty in the thing. As to be expected, because life was kind of a douche like that, the hat was beyond an arm's reach. She climbed into the narrow pipe, annoyed that she had to get into such a narrow thing but also relieved that it wouldn't be necessary to go inside the building. Paranoia wasn't the most flattering personality trait, but it did keep people alive. The blush beneath her fur wasn't much helped by the fact that her underwear was exposed to anyone who just happened by--but the place was empty, and her embarrassment would end soon enough.

Marie scooted through the pipe, finding it tighter going than she originally thought. Her legs were long enough that she couldn't go on hands and knees, and had to instead rely on her arm strength to really pull her through. Her palms were starting to get really sore from the rough concrete by the time she made it to her hat, and so were her suffering knees. She clutched the hat in her left hand and lowered her head, letting her eyes rest from the glare of sunlight at the other end of the pipe. Really, the interior of the pipe was nice and cool, a pleasant change from the rather stifling humidity outside. Summer was one of her least favorite seasons for that reason--her pelt was just too thick to endure the heat with reasonable comfort.

A slight breeze fluttered her skirt, making it tickle the insides of her thighs. "Time to go." Her voice bounced back to her, weirdly too loud, almost like yelling in a church. She shimmied forward and winced as one knee landed on something wet and squishy. She recoiled, but it stuck to her fur. "Great!" she snarled and tried to get along faster, but her movements seemed to spread the stuff--it went around the back of her knee, unpleasantly cold, and as her thighs brushed together, it began to spread further up. She began to tentatively feel around in front of her with her hands, hoping to find no more. Her other knee sank into the same stuff despite the precaution. "Just great!" The stuff was gunky, sticky, and the further she tried to go, the firmer it got, until she felt like she was moving forward through drying epoxy, even though none of it was on her hands. She stopped and used her free hand to feel back around to her thighs--looking down would be worthless, as all she'd see would be her own cleavage, and that wasn't exceptionally helpful.

As soon as she touched the goo, it tensed into something like wrist-thick rubber rope. Before she could scream, it jerked her back, pulling her knees out from under her and scraping them raw on the concrete. She fell, not quite hard enough to knock her breath out but enough to abort a shout. She let go of the hat and stuck her other hand down, trying to get a good grip on the hard bands around her thighs. Their grip was too tight for her to even get her fingers behind, though, a bruising, punishing grip that would leave a circle of color in the flesh. She began to scrabble at the concrete, trying to pull herself forward. Panic had her and she was panting, unable to get anything but a weak whine out of her throat--it had to be a dream, the kind where you couldn't scream because you were paralyzed in deep sleep in the real world. Something blunt and fat pushed at the crease of her torso and thigh, oozing wet and cold against her skin. She shuddered as it stroked against the lay of her fur and moved against her underwear like a thick finger. Her claws were grinding away against the pipe, fingertips beginning to leave faint streaks of blood behind. "No, no, no!" She panted, heaving her body forward fruitlessly. The touch tested her nethers, pushing blindly against her underwear until it found the soft hollow of her sex and began to push against the cotton, soaking it with some cold substance that made her muscles clench even tighter.

With a vicious jab it punched through, dragging the stretched fabric with it into Marie's vagina. It slowed, seemingly satisfied that it had discovered her sex. She whimpered with horror, trembling as she slumped forward. The strength had drained from her arms, making them weak and watery. The--the tentacle, she knew, began pushing lazily deeper, curling and tensing in ways she could only feel as vague pressure, as it had gone too deep for her to sense beyond the acute invasion and the tautness of her channel. It was wide--wider than a dick, anyway, and almost painful. The cold made her inner muscles tighten. However, if that violation had made her nearly collapse, the sudden probing at her ass was all the motivation she needed to start thrashing again, using all of her weight to try to break free.

The tentacle was quicker just to stab through the resistance of her underwear this time, shoving straight through the tight pucker of her anus. The pain made her howl; tears ran down her face, mingling with snot as she began to sob desperately. If the thing didn't kill her, someone was going to find it raping her inside this pipe, because someone had to have heard her by now! The tentacle pushed up through her bowels more quickly than the one in her vagina had; that one was pushing against her cervix painfully, having discovered the dead end.

Another cold, wet length pushed up between her legs, snaking along her torso and moving between her breasts. It bumped against her chin, searching for an entrance; this one was at least as large as the other two. She clenched her teeth and lifted her head, doing all she could to keep it from her mouth. Hopefully it wouldn't move further... But no, it did, sliding up the line of her jawbone. Unable to control herself, she yanked at it with one hand. The thing took the opportunity to curl around her wrist and jerk it back. The smacking of her chin against the bottom of the pipe stunned her. Another tentacle thrust up between her breasts, stretching the band of her bra. It probed her face, pressing against her muzzle, seeking out the nostrils. It seemed to sense it wouldn't fit there, and moved up to her ear; it shoved against that before seeming to decide that that was also an unfit orifice, then mashed itself against her lips. She'd been snarling, jaw clenched shut, and it pushed back into the pouch between cheek and teeth into the warm pocket there. It pushed further back, leaving no option but allowing it to split the flesh or just giving in and opening her mouth--which, unwillingly, she did. It immediately pushed into her mouth. It tasted like potting soil smelled, with a grainy texture to the slime besides. She bit into it almost immediately and her teeth sank straight through.

Before she could spit the piece out, the two tentacles buried in her thrust up sharply. She gave a short shriek of pain as one impaled her cervix, ripping open the one-inch opening and into her uterus. The tentacle head tumbled from Marie's mouth, only to be replaced by a new one that rammed down her throat, gagging her. The binding tentacles around her limbs tightened painfully as neon spots began to dance before her eyes from lack of air; the appendages began to move rhythmically, stretching her channels. Her bowels squeezed back, revolting against the slimy thing pushing into them against her will, but the tentacle resisted easily, stroking incessantly at the muscles as they inevitably began to surrender to fatigue and will-sapping terror. Sweat-soaked and shivering she lay there, darkness flirting with her mind as she slowly suffocated. The powerful thrusts of the tentacles made her hips hitch backwards and forwards, dragging against slime and concrete as her body went limp. Her sight grayed, then fled as buzzing filled her ears.

The tentacle pulled free of her throat, trailing strands of slime and saliva from her mouth. It poked at one closed eye, leaving a cold patch of slime there. The tentacles moving in her seemed to be warming; her body had begun to respond, slime and juices dripping down through the matted fur of her thighs. Some of it, a distant part of Marie's mind noted, was probably blood. Like a murmur far away, she thought she heard voices; maybe it was her own. The tentacle pushed back into her mouth, which was slack and drooling. Tears leaked continually from her eyes, though she was barely aware; her breath came quick and shallow, noisy with congestion. Something squeezed against her clit, pushing forward, like the tentacle had grown a fat, bulbous base; then something round went through and her channel squeezed, pulling it up. The tentacles were making a squelching sound as they moved; more round things moved up into her, like a strand of huge beads pushing into her womb.

The tentacle in her ass stilled for a moment, then jerked, pumping cold liquid into her bowels with such force that she grunted, biting down unconsciously on the tentacle in her mouth. She didn't succeed in biting through it this time, though the tentacle binding her wrist jerked down, straining her shoulder. A blurry shadow waited at the end of the pipe, which looked now like a horribly long tunnel, the light just a mockery of escape. Then another round thing--an egg, her mind supplied numbly--nudged her tailhole. It squeezed in, stretching her insides painfully as the tentacle redoubled its onslaught to get the thing further up. She shuddered violently, bowels fluttering as though to shoot it out, but the tentacle's advance was irresistible. Tiny groans scraped through her ravaged throat, muffled by the tentacle moving in and out of her muzzle.

Her womb was distending as it filled, pushing against her other organs. It was agonizing; pregnancy was a slow process of growth, not nearly as fast as this thing's... Egg-laying. The pain threatened to pull her down just as the suffocation had, but her mind wouldn't give up and let her go into the comforting black. The tentacle in her muzzle swelled down her throat and something tumbled into her esophagus--another egg, she knew, and more came as she choked and whimpered against the intrusion. They tumbled into her stomach, forcing the bile up into her throat even as her ass and womb were similarly filled.

Something jerked the bonds against her legs and the tentacles tightened more, cutting off circulation. Desperate yanks began to loosen the creature's hold on her and she was tugged back, one increment at a time, through the narrow concrete pipe. The thing increased its efforts to pump eggs into her until she knew she'd burst.

At last she was out, seeing only flickering silhouettes between her and the sun. The tentacles, still inside her, were thrashing like a possessed umbilical cable between her and the tunnel, trying to drag her back in. She flailed against the bonds as more tugs tried to pull the tentacles out of her; with a snap, one broke from her vagina, then one slid from her ass and throat. She rolled over, almost convulsing as she began to vomit. The eggs caught in her throat, almost too big to come up, but her body wouldn't let it go, expelling them from stomach and bowels. She trembled and shook as she voided and puked, but the pressure in her womb remained, dammed.

"It's okay," she heard a voice sooth, then, "Call goddamn 911!"

TBC?

You tell me. I anticipate a sequel, personally.