FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A warning: I consider this one of the more disturbing things I've written. To me, the previous chapters were almost vanilla. I don't want to hear about anyone being offended and disgusted--this is a fair play warning.

***

Marie grunted as the last of her brood dropped out of her gaping pussy in a surge of thick fluid, strings of sticky gray still connecting her to the latest of her squirming gray offspring. The tub she squatted over swarmed with life engaged in an unending orgy of devouring as the slimy larvae fed on their smaller, slower, less lucky kindred in order to grow stronger. In the end, there would only be one left. They were becoming more intelligent all the time, Marie thought, smiling vaguely as she stroked the amorphous form of the largest where it waited beneath her for more siblings to swallow. She giggled as it tried to digest her finger, but its acids were too weak to harm her. To her body, its fluids were no more serious than a do-it-yourself facial peel.

Naked and dripping, she returned to the bedroom. Her stomach was washboard flat now and the muscles defined in a way her body had never seen. Things were much the same with Jacob; where he used to have a paunch and the slightly flabby limbs of a geek who never worked out, he had taut, bunching muscles that made women stop and stare. Fuck, fuck, fuck you way to a new you! thought a dimly hysterical portion of her mind, which was soon stifled by her new concerns.

The problem with a high sex drive was hunger. They were always hungry, always eating, eating, eating when they weren't breeding. Marie's apartment reeked with the stench of sex old and new and hadn't been cleaned in months, but nowhere could one find food or anything that had once been food. The first month she had only gone out to forage while Jacob's body changed to accommodate its new purpose; she was the only one suitable for public eyes. Everything organic in the apartment had been devoured before she left, massive with Jacob's spawn. They'd eaten the plants, the potting soil, the cotton sheets, the down filler of the pillows, even the weaker of the offspring, the firstborn, who came too early or misshapen, swallowing them still pathetically wriggling.

Marie's bedroom had been striped with the mucous of the couple's transformed bodies until the place looked like the inside of a wet, living cocoon. Not a bit of wall or the original furnishings was visible. The bed had become something of a dais, where a moistly-gleaming shape now twitched. A rare hermaphrodite had fallen for Marie, who brought the deer--a doe as the thing had wanted to be known then--back to her territory. The change had taken a few weeks, the first few days of which had demanded Marie's total attention. Now, though, the creature only whimpered pathetically on occasion. Infertile, like most of the intersexed, the doe had been attending support group sessions for the hermaphroditic when Marie seduced her. She'd wanted to have children, she told Marie; well, now she'd have all the children she wanted.

The doe's body seemed to have melded with the mucous of the room, her limbs dissolving away from the inside into appendages not much different from Jacob's tentacles, albeit in need of constant moisture. Her hairless belly bulged, so taut that the shadows of her latest brood could be seen moving within. Seeing Marie's shadow, she moaned.

"Hungry?" Marie asked solicitously, then passed through the room and into the kitchen, where she opened the fridge and pulled out a hunk of bloody steak before returning.

The doe whimpered frantically, eyes rolling wildly, so Marie climbed up on the bed and straddled the doe's muzzle so her cold, damp nose parted the folds of flesh. She whuffed as Marie knelt over her face, beginning to tear into the raw meat. Then the doe opened her mouth and greedily extended the thick, phallic appendage her tongue had become, a hollow thing that rubbed between Marie's labia before finding the opening and striking up into the cheetah's slick depths to suck at the fluids still trickling down. Marie arched her back and rode the doe's face, swallowing the last of the meat and sucking at her fingers in satisfaction as the doe's tongue pushed further in, slipping against the g-spot.

"Yesss," she hissed, clamping her thighs around the doe's skull. "C'moooonnnnnnn...." The tongue wasn't wide enough, not vigorous enough; the touch against the hotspot was only a tease despite the doe's desperate hunger. Marie needed to take the edge off before she went hunting and every time she needed more. Ignoring the thing's pleading grunts, Marie pushed down and mounted her muzzle and fucked herself on it, drenching the doe's face and suffocating her. Still, the doe's tongue thrust in her, sucking frantically as Marie's vagina flooded with the stimulation. Arousal deepened the fog that had filled Marie's mind since she fled the lab and she humped mindlessly, the tentacle in her womb slipping out slightly to tangle with the doe's tongue. "Yesss..." Every muscle in her body seized and with a tight sigh she came, pumping fluid into her captive.

She slumped forward for a moment in the afterglow of release, but the doe was frantically trying to pull her muzzle free, and so Marie rose after a moment. The tongue came free with a smat of suction, gobs of thick mucous dribbling down the doe's face. If the thing hadn't been so frantic for food and... Sensation, it might have cried, Marie thought. She stroked the doe's belly and cooed to her, feeling the brood moving beneath the skin, each already articulated and likely devouring the others. Hot strings of semen striped the cool, naked flesh; Marie rubbed them in while she murmured to the doe, whose still-tumescent cock swelled yearningly.

After a while, the hunger stirred in Marie, and she dressed herself in a loose, white sweater that faked decency and a black skirt that flaunted it. It was time to shop.

***

Jacob's hips snapped back and forth against the fox's ass, his balls slapping between the bent-over man's thighs. They were in the fox's ("Just call me Will," he'd said, grinning at Jacob on the lion's first day at the office) apartment, where Will's wife was twisting in torment as Jacob's tentacles assaulted her every orifice, her struggles jerking the tentacles like the most exquisitely rough handjob ever given. Jacob held Will down over the desk with one hand pressed against the middle of his back, forcing the breath out of him with every hard thrust. The fox's harsh grunts punctuated the sounds of his wife's terrified whimpers as Jacob wore her out. He couldn't present eggs, but he could convert... And like any dedicated disciple, he spread the word through action.

The sweat spreading along the armpits and down the back of Will's white shirt smelled like pure sex; Jacob fisted his hand in the cotton, nails tearing at it. Their pants were barely halfway-down, Will's boxers shreds. Jacob didn't wear any; easy access was key.

Finally he felt the release from his ass that signaled implantation; there was a slurp as the tentacle buried itself in the raven's quivering cloaca. In a few days, she'd be as Marie was. In his more lucid moments, in the time after consecutive exhausting releases, Jacob thought that the feeling wasn't unlike taking a huge dump. The tentacles continued to toy with the woman, ensuring that she would be too exhausted to harass Jacob as he worked her husband.

One of Jacob's tentacles was fucking the man's mouth, blinding him with pheromones. Those had developed more slowly and smelled faintly feminine, somewhat like the musk of a dominant female in heat. His own smell kept Jacob in a constant state of half-hardness, his dick always leaking; now, though, he could find relief in this man, and he strove for it, his frenzied pumping slamming the fox's hard dick into the edge of his desk over and over. Will was far beyond feeling it; he was equally delirious, straining to take in more of Jacob's cock, meeting the lion thrust for thrust, his nails scraping the desk as he fought for leverage. They both dripped with sweat, Jacob bloody with marks of combat, Will slick with the lubrication from Jacob's tentacles. Jacob had only been able to half-prepare his ass, driven into blind lust by the feel of the tight hole. Now the friction between them burned as Jacob's barbs scoured Will, opening him further to the effects of Jacob's strange seed.

Will uttered a strangled yowl and stiffened; a hot, salty scent bloomed, and Jacob knew Will had come. The knowledge spurred Jacob over the edge; he slammed into the fox's ass a few more times, then semen burst from him, so much that his balls ached as they emptied into the man. Panting, Jacob pulled out, dick bobbing. Come spilled out of Will's ass onto the floor, pink-tinged gray. Jacob stepped away carefully and dropped Will's limp wife. As he backed out of the apartment, he saw Will pick himself up and sway for a moment before lunging for his wife.

Jacob allowed himself a moment's delay to see what would happen, real curiosity piercing the urge to find another convert. Will hauled his wife up and threw her bodily onto the desk, knocking off the remaining frames and pens he and Jacob hadn't cleared off in their own mating. Lining himself up between his half-dead wife's legs, he began to piston, tearing at her ruined blouse. A pretty pair, Jacob mused, before tearing his eyes away from the holes in the back of Will's shirt. "Seeya, man." Will only grunted.

***

Marie smiled demurely at the teenaged jackrabbit at the checkout counter. He kept making the same error as he rang up the array of phallic vegetables and bottles she'd bought as a calculated move; he couldn't tear his eyes away from the slightly darker shapes of her nipples beneath the white sweater. When he finally finished, the till added up to nearly double the cost of what she'd actually purchased, but she let the slack-jawed bag boy put everything up before she leaned across the counter, dragging a finger beneath the jackrabbit's chin. His nametag said, "Hello, my name is George!"

"George," she breathed, making his ears twitch in nervous arousal, "I need to talk to you... Somewhere private. Do you know a place?" She smoothed one hand down over her stomach, feeling the shift that was the source of her twinging hunger. The image of what she'd do to this boy was starting to make her salivate.

He stuttered something incomprehensible as the bag boy looked on in total awe. It was fortunate that the rest of the store was empty. Finally giving up on words, George just nodded, and almost ran to the back of the store. Following at a more sedate pace, Marie passed through the still-swinging door behind the meat counter, where a gristly old cow looked on in maternal disapproval. Marie just grinned, showing her sharp white teeth, then shoved the gaping boy through the door right behind him.

The bathroom. Amazingly, it was clean--someone, she mused, had to have cleaned it up in preparation for a health code inspection. "Sit," Marie said, shoving him down on the floor before the sink. He resisted for a second before she flipped her skirt up with one hand, revealing her golden-furred mons. He wrapped his trembling, damp hands around her thighs and bent, nudging her mound with his hot, dry nose before taking a tentative lick. "That's a good boy," she sighed, and grasped his chestnut-brown ears to drag him in. He grunted, but it seemed to be the exact encouragement he needed; before long, he was lapping needily at her cunt, one palm frantically jerking his dick.

She needed a better angle than this... She backed up, skirt falling off the boy's face. His muzzle glistened with her juices and he licked at them, eyes bright with lust. Not releasing his grip on himself, he walked forward on his knees as she lifted her thighs in a clear invitation. The cold air on her wet lips was delicious, but the sex-starved slurp of his tongue against her clit was better. "Harder," she bit out, wrapping her thighs around his head. He tensed for a second and she let up... She would have to trap him more slowly.

He panted into her, hot breath tickling her opening, then ate her out with a hunger rivaling her own, nipping, sucking, nuzzling into her sex as though it would be his last time. Slowly, she drew him in closer, increment by excruciating increment. In her excitement, the hard, ridged shaft of her ovipositor was slipping from her womb, the tentacle slipping out atop it. In one swift movement, she locked her knees around him and thrust the ovipositor down his throat. The tentacle snaked out of the corner of his drooling mouth, looping around his throat to hold him before slithering further down his body to coil around his dick, binding his hand there as well.

Her muscles rippled against his skull as he struggled, trying to pull away; however, the squeeze of her tentacle around his penis frightened him enough that the fight was half-hearted. He, intelligently enough, didn't want to risk being unmanned--and conveniently, she also didn't desire that for him. The pale tendril emerged from the tip of her tentacle, slipping against the wet tip of his softening dick as it sought the slit. Finding it, it wriggled in. He gurgled unattractively against the rippling length sliding down his throat, one of his hands clenching just above her knee.

The clenching movement of his throat undulated against her ovipositor, stretched to his full length in his esophagus. It was just narrow enough to allow him to breathe, shallow and painful though it was; the motion was the most intimate massage a girl could imagine, sheer heaven that triggered her internal muscles. Deep inside, the egg began its journey, getting squeezed through the rings of cartilage in her shaft in peristaltic heaves. Marie's head dropped back as she panted, so turned on she hurt. Her body trembled as she pushed the egg down, down, down, forcing it through his maw and down his throat, choking him. Unable to cough, all he could do was swallow, try to pull the invader down into his stomach to be destroyed; that was his body's idea, anyway, and it would prove to be its downfall.

Her tendril wormed down through his urethra, through the prostate gland that gave a helpless twinge of wincing pleasure, threading past the seminal vesicle and into the vas deferens, all the way into the testis where the tip broke off and coiled in his sack. The tendril retreated back into her tentacle to bud again. Her ovipositor recoiled from his throat, carrying the taint of bile along with saliva; she cried out in ecstasy as the ribs retracted through her and her orgasm drooled over the boy's muzzle and onto the floor, a pool of gray fluid. Dazed, the boy stayed still and on his knees as the tentacle unwound itself and shrank away within her. "Good boy," she whispered in his limp ears, then licked his mouth with her sandpaper tongue until all her taste was gone. She tucked a slip of paper with her address into his pocket and left him on his knees in the bathroom.

***

The half-mad doe trapped in the apartment screamed as the first contraction took her, rippling through her womb like a tidal wave. Her body was melding with the tissue spread by the other two, whose excretions lived and multiplied and metabolized everything it touched. Her awareness had stretched beyond her psyche's breaking point; she sensed more than thought now, every sensation taut and strung out, every vibration a play on pleasure-pain that made her nervous system sing.

The tremors in her belly had been going on for quite some time, since she last came with the cheetah's thighs clamped around her head. She'd come until her balls were empty, each wrenching orgasm dry and agonizing. The hollow ache drove her insane, making her tense her withering muscles to find some friction, some release to the compelling impulse to rut. Her breasts were distended, sagging down to her sides, so heavy with un-touched milk that even the whisper of air over them felt like a tightening vise. She squealed while her body pushed at the burden in her belly, her water breaking and gushing out onto the floor. The spawn burst out of her in a flood of teeming, boneless limbs, voraciously gorging themselves on each other as they tumbled out, the less vigorous swallowed whole by the stronger.

As the pressure lessened, the little creatures, her babies, her dear ones, those still left within her had to struggle out, wiggling down her passage and making her weak, floppy pelvis jiggle as she tried to hump the air. Finally, the last one plopped out, only to be absorbed in the bulk of the survivor.

"My... Baby," the doe mumbled as the thing's tentacles slapped up onto its surrogate's body. Hunger temporarily sated by the substance of its siblings, it knew one desire now; to mount. Its thready limbs began to coalesce into thicker and thicker cords until muscular appendages wrapped themselves around the doe, who bubbled happily, beyond words at the embrace of her offspring.

The flat stretch of its core tightened, puckering into the doe's stretched, destroyed passage, and began humping, the smacking of the fucking beating out a sloshing rhythm. Even as it worked its mother, the thing developed itself, building its form with the material of the doe. "Mother," it gurgled, thrusting even as it dissolved her, became her.

***

George lay prone in the bathroom, hot forehead pressed against the cool porcelain base of the toilet. He'd passed through the last phase of convulsions that had made his heels hammer against the cabinet, rattling the cans and rolls of toilet paper inside it. His pants, pushed down to his knees, had trapped his legs, preventing much more noise than that and his phlegmatic whimpers. His nose and mouth dribbled, adding to the gray come smeared over the linoleum by his helpless body. His hand had stayed wrapped around his burning dick as flames burned through him, spreading from his sac and stomach in a ravening burst.

Even as he was scorched with the fever, he jerked off, dick bloating in his first. His balls were so swollen he'd had to spread his legs as far as he could; they were still painfully pinched between his thighs, and it was an effort to keep them apart. He was too weak to move his jeans... Mentally, he cursed himself for the vanity that made him steal his sister's pants, but there was nothing he could do now. Something was stirring behind his balls, pushing up from the skin there. It should have hurt, but he could barely feel anything but the length of it pushing out, questing between his legs as it grew.

Finally, he pulled his sticky hand off his cock. Like an automaton, he pulled his pants up, then stood, buttoning them. The thing pushing out of him moved against his leg, pushing between it and the tight fabric. It was like sticking his dick in a tight bitch and it made his tumid cock twitch.

Sick, he thought fuzzily, and stumbled out the bathroom door, through the storage area, and out one of the unloading docks, where the potheads slurred their hellos to him. He said nothing, lurching out to where his junker was parked.

The drive home was hell. The thing was curling around his leg, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing. A dark line spiraled down the pants leg where it had snaked around and was oozing something that smelled like the cheetah chick's snatch. George's throat was wet with drool, ropes of it dripping down onto his lap where his dick tented the pants, trapped against the teeth of his zipper.

He walked half-blind into the elevator of his dorm; he had to swipe his keycard three times, each of the first two swipes being too fast for it to read. Finally, he made it into his suite and slammed the door behind him and locked it before collapsing to the floor. Somewhere beyond the blessed wall separating himself from the rest of the world one of his roommates yelped a startled curse, but George could hardly care as he wrestled his pants down, blood pounding in his ears.

The tendril was gray and thickening in time with his pulse; it was drawing from him somewhere, probably, but he couldn't say how he knew it. He loosened it, pulled it up in front. Mine. In his clouded brain he realized something was different, wrong, but his balls were about to burst, so he just laid down on his bed and yanked on his dick. It was longer. Thicker. Darker, even. The color... He curled the tentacle around his balls, squeezing them as he jerked frantically. It wasn't enough. He let go long enough to fumble at a drawer beside his bed, pulling out Vaseline and slathering his hands in it before grabbing himself in one and stuffing his ass with the fingers of his other, pumping violently.

He blacked out somewhere around the third orgasm, ass tightening around his three buried fingers.

TBC

I admit that this is probably one of the more disturbing things I've written, but hey, good to get it out of the ol' brainpan, right? Bleed that poison out! I did my best not to wuss out and keep everything in its... Glory's not really the right word for it. As ever, comments are loved and cherished!