FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Blake Cristian ducked under the yellow tape that was stretched across the front door to a large, lush house. He found himself in the foyer, a long, plush red carpet underfoot covered most of the area. A few small tables carrying a plant, a key bowl and some photos sat on both sides of the foyer. A doorway to the left lead to a large living room, littered with luxurious furniture, knick-knacks, paintings, and an entertainment system. A young frog girl stood in front of an officer with a notepad. She sobbed and sniffled and tried to hold it together as she gave the officer information.

To the left of the foyer, behind another doorway lead to the dining room. A long, dark oak table sat in the middle with a fancy table-top ornament sitting symmetrically in the middle, with twelve antique chairs lined around, sitting perfectly next to each other. On the walls in the dining room were a few more paintings, though, none of them seemed to serve any significates or purpose. A small chandelier occupied the center ceiling of the room, with elegantly cut glass dangling off from it as it shone added a nice sparkle to the room, and complimented a few of the paintings.

Straight ahead was a staircase leading upwards to the bedrooms and bathroom, but behind the staircase to the left was a doorway the lead to the kitchen. From what Blake could see, the kitchen seemed to have a theme to it. Instead of having random types of pots and pans (like he did back at his home), everything seemed to have to be matching. Stainless-steel everything. Pots, pans, countertops, tables, sinks, faucets, cutlery, and silverware. The only few things that weren't stainless-steel, the Blake had notices, was the dishes that he could see through the class cupboards. The plats, bowls, cups and mugs all matched too, but these were glass and rimmed with an odd, gold and silver paint. Though, because everything else in the house was so expensive, Blake wouldn't have doubted if it was real gold and silver lining the dishes instead of just paint.

Walking upstairs, Blake found himself in a modestly sized hall lined with more pictures and paintings, along with a few more plants and knick-knacks. He opened the first door he saw and found himself in the bathroom. He was about to walk away when he saw himself in the mirror. A lean, muscular wolf looked back, a blank expression on his face and bags from stress under his eyes. His headfur was combed back, except for the few rebellious strands that drooped down to nearly touch his eye on the left side. His fur was jet black, and reflected almost any light that hit it, almost seeming to reject any light it came across. His amber-yellow eyes were glazed over from tiredness and lack of sleep. His trench coat covered up most of his body, underneath was a white collar shirt with a grey vest, along with his gun holstered under his left arm. His hands were covered by leather black gloves, the slight outline of his wedding band slightly visible through the surface.

He looked back up to his face, subconsciously playing with the unlit cigarette that hung from his lips. He had barely noticed it was there, the wolf smoked so often that it felt unnatural to have nothing in his mouth, so he probably just put it there to make it feel right again.

He left the bathroom and went down the hall to on his left, finding an open door with a few police officers standing inside, conversing with each other. One officer was stationed outside the door, probably there to keep other out. Blake noticed how incredibly hard the officer was trying not to look inside, a clear expression of disgust on his face.

Blake showed the officer his badge and entered the bedroom. The walls were painted white, along with the bedspread, furniture and carpet. Apparently, the owners of this house really like a white a room, only, not everything was white anymore.

Across the back wall, where the headboard to the bed was lined up against, a big, long splatter of red reached up from one of the two bodies lying awkwardly on the bed, to nearly touching the ceiling. The bed under the bodies was absolutely drenched in blood, hardly any white was left on the sheets and pillows. Two officers, a boar and eagle, stood at the side of the bed, shaking their heads in pity at the bodies, both of which being frogs. That probably meant the frog downstairs was a relative of some sort.

Looking at the bodies, a male frog and female frog, both looking to be in their late forties, early fifties, Blake noticed that the male's body seemed to be more mangled than the women. The male frog's stomach and chest had been torn apart, looking like something had been torn out of them. A bit of the frog's gore had spilled out and hung over the bed, making Blake twist his muzzle in disgust, but it didn't affect him as much as the officer standing at the door.

This isn't the first time Blake's been to a crimscene where the body is absolutely mangled, as if a wild bear caused this. The first case was a mountain hiker, a badger that had gone camping with a few friends. She had been reported missing and was later found, missing an arm, kidney, liver and heart. Blake thought that it could have been a mountain lion or pack of coyotes that did this; the body had the bite and claw marks, but then another death occurred with the same cause. So far, there's been five victims before these two. Each one missing either parts of their bodies or organs, but always missing their hearts. A serial killer.

If Blake leaned in a bit, he could see a clear hole in the frog male's chest, with no heart to be found. He looked over to the women on the other side of the bed. Her hands had been tied to the bars of the headboard and feet were spread awkwardly apart. She wore no pants or underwear of any kind, and her shirt was torn down the front to reveal her chest. Her body seemed to be mostly intact, though, bruises and scratches littered her green skin. If he had to, Blake would guess that the killer mangled the husband before raping and killing with wife.

The wolf leaned back and looked to the boar and eagle. "I need space." He said, his voice deep and tired.

Both officers nodded and left the room, closing the door behind them and leaving Blake alone in the room with the bodies. As soon as they left, the wolf pulled off the glove that covered his left hand and walked around the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Other than the blood that covered the room, everything seemed to be kept orderly, meaning that there was probably no struggle. He walked over to the dresser, seeing a necktie sitting on the top. He reached out and touched it with his bare hand, closing his eyes and letting himself get pulled into a memory that wasn't his own.

He watched as the husband walked into the room, setting down a briefcase at the foot of the bed before moving to the dresser to remove his tie and set it down. The memory ended, sending Blake back to his own body and opened his eyes. He looked around for anything else that might tell him something.

He walked over to a nightstand that sat next to side of the bed closest to the male body. A golden watch sat there, ticking silently with a few bloodstains on it. He picked up the watch is his bare hand and got launched into a different memory. He saw the first time the husband received the watch; a Christmas present from his wife. He turned the watch in his hand, looking for a different memory, this time seeing the husband at work. The frog was following a younger, busty female feline into an empty room. He watched as they started to strip and kiss. Blake growled a bit at this memory, turning the watch a bit more and stopping at another memory.

This memory was more recent. The frog was sitting down on the edge of his bed, kicking off his shoes and setting his watch down on the nightstand. Right before he let go of the watch and the memory ended, Blake noticed the frog fall back onto the bed and started struggling.

Blake set the watch down and looked at the male frog, half in pity, half in disgust for cheating on his wife. He reached in and touched the corner of the collar on his shirt and got pulled into another memory. The male frog was struggling on his bed, trying to fight something, but other than him, the room was empty. The collar of the shirt started to crumple as something began to strangle the frog. The frog gagged and pounded his fists against the air until an eruption of blood and gore tore from his stomach and spattered against the wall behind the bed. The frog tried to scream, but couldn't with his throat being choked. Something invisible slashed at his innards, coating the walls and the bed in blood. Then, the frog's chest was pierced and heart pulled out. The heart then became invisible and frog fell limp in the bed.

Blake let the shirt go and stepped back. He felt like he was going to hurl from that memory, though, he remained expressionless and professional. The first time he looked into the badger's memory of her death, Blake had thrown up for fifteen minutes straight as the images rang and replayed through his head. He was much more used to it now, but the images still made him feel uneasy. That was good, made him feel normal, despite his abnormal ability.

He was starting to get frustrated with this case. Already seven victims in the last month and a half, and Blake is no closer to finding out who the killer was, if there even was a killer. So far, the victims seem to be dying on their own of unnatural causes. As far as he knew, none of the victims had anything in common, and none of them knew each other or had any contact with each other, at least, not that he saw with his ability.

Blake sighed and looked into the women's death before opening the door and walking out. He walked downstairs, getting a few words in with the female frog in the living room. He found out that she was a niece of the deceased and had just come into town to visit when she discovered the bodies. He took a few notes, both from the memories, and from the niece. He took a look around, feeling things to get a few more details, before he left.

~*~

Blake walked through the door of his home and groaned loosening his tie and going straight for the fridge in the kitchen. His house wasn't large, not nearly as large as the victims' but it was still a good size. The living room was fairly small, possessing not much more than a couch, armchair, coffee table and a television. The coffee table was mostly littered with a few old newspapers, three coffee mugs and a full ashtray with a few cigarette butts that didn't make it in.

Blake took a bottle of liquor and plopped down on the couch, turning on the television and flipping through the channels before landing on something that might catch his attention for more than a few minutes. He sipped at his beer and sucked on his cigarette, leaning back into the couch and relaxing a bit. He pulled his gloves off, and as soon as he touched the couch with his bare hands, he was launched into another memory, a recent one, probably earlier today. He saw his wife lying naked on the couch with man on top of her; the same alligator that she's been cheating on him with. Moans and groans echoed from their intermingled bodies.

Blake jerked his hand off from the couch and cursed, starting to shove his gloves back on angrily. Yes, his wife was cheating on him, and he knew. He has known, for quite a while. He hasn't confronted her because, well, he didn't really know why he hasn't confronted her yet. They clearly didn't love each other anymore, but going through the divorce process was just too bothersome, and he couldn't take the stress from that while trying to deal with these mysterious deaths. He'd implode if he took anymore stress. But maybe another reason was because, somewhere, deep down, he wished she'd come to her senses and stop what she's doing.

He stopped right before putting his right glove on and dug through his pocket. He found a trinket and pulled it out turning it over in his hand. It was a small, golden, heart shaped locket. It was just a little bit smaller than the palm of his hand, the golden chain wrapped around his hand as he turned it over. The locket wasn't his, it was something he found a few months ago, back when he was just starting to realize his abilities, and he was never able to open it, no matter how hard he tried. He clutched it and was taken into a memory. He found himself in a hotel room, around two o'clock in the morning, with most of the lights off. Two bodies lay intertwined, a larger, muscular African wild dog over top an arctic fox, both male.

The wild dog leaned down and kissed the fox, receiving a naughty giggle from the fox as he licked back. They kissed, grinding their groins together and saying a few dirty phrases, but Blake was paying more attention to the wild dog's larger balls rolling over the fox's slightly smaller ones. Blake had begun stroking himself back in his body as he watched the two males mingle and enjoy each other's body contact. All three of them growing increasingly hard.

The wild dog repositioned himself and lifted the fox's rear to his muzzle. He gave the fox's pucker a lick, making him shiver and moan slightly. He lapped around the fox's taint, feeling his body up and down and making him shiver. Now that the wild dog wasn't completely overtop the fox, Blake could see the golden locket wrapped around the moaning fox's neck. It seemed to shine and shimmer in the dim hotel light, more so than it would back in the present. Blake found out some time ago, that some objects he touched had strong, sentimental emotions attached to the memories, giving them an odd glow in the memory. Normally, that means that there's more than one memory attached to the object, but any time that Blake tried to find a different memory in the locket, he would only find this one, as if the other memories had either been erased or covered up.

Not that he was really complaining. When he first discovered the locket and saw the memory, he was a little unsettled, and didn't watch the memory all the way through. It felt odd watching two people have sex, not to mention that he was married AND they were both guys. Blake had seen gay porn before (in all honesty, who hasn't) but this felt different. It didn't feel like he was simply watching it, when he was in a memory, he felt like he was a part of it. It was better than watching porn, but it also had its downsides, like reliving someone else's death. And since he's discovered his wife's been cheating on him, it's eased his subconscious about watching and enjoying the memory.

Blake moved to unzip his pants when he heard the front door open and close, snapping the wolf out of the memory and back to the real world. He stuffed the trinket back into his pocket and pulled a couch pillow onto his crotch, straightening up a bit as he listened to his wife walk through the living room and upstairs. He said hello, and he hummed in response, but there was no contact, no physical or eye contact. He heard the door to their bedroom close, and the house fell silent, save the low murmur of the television.

He considered taking the locket back out of his pocket and continuing from here he left off, but as soon as his wife came through the door, he lost the mood and didn't really feel like it. It's not like it was much different than any other night; he'd come home from a long day at work, masturbate a few times, smoke and sleep. That was about it. He and Carol, his wife, haven't had sex in quite a while, well, Blake hasn't had sex in a while, so masturbating was the only thing that he could really do to relieve some stress.

He rested his hand on the arm of the couch and got launched back into the memory of his wife having sex with someone else on their couch. He pulled his hand and growled loudly, he was getting really tired of not being able to touch anything in his own house because everything seemed to scream 'cheating sex.' He angrily puffed on his cigarette, tail twitching and ear swiveling as he contemplated going up to the bedroom and confronting the situation.

Leaning down and lying his head on the arm of the couch, Blake brought his feet up to the couch and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. He turned onto his back and took a sip from his bottle. He took the locket out of his pocket with his gloved hand and stared at it. He thought about the memory, thinking about the arctic fox and how nice it'd be to have someone like him to hold right about now. Blake closed his eyes, drifting into a light slumber.

He found himself standing in the middle of a busy street, though, instead of cars, the street was crowded with traveling people walking and running in every which direction. The wolf recognized the surrounding area, though, the building seemed to be taller and streets seemed to be longer. He was still in Phoenix, his home town, and he noticed that he was on the corner of South 2ndstreet and East Jefferson Street, with an establishment called 'The Hard Rock Café' sitting in front of him. He's never been to the restaurant before, but he's passed it many a times.

Through the window of the restaurant, Blake noticed a pair of beckoning red eyes locking on his. They were unwavering and unblinking, looking through everyone else and totally fixed on him. Blake looked around for a moment, thinking that maybe the eyes were looking at someone else, but no one else seemed to notice. He crossed the remaining distance between himself and building, entering and finding that it was air-conditioned. It felt nice, the cool breeze that worked its way under his fur and that classical music he remembered hearing when he was a kid.

As soon as he entered, he was in what looked to be a rather busy café. Small circular tables and a coffee bar on the far side of the room was occupied mostly by customers and employees, making it hard for Blake to squeeze through to get to the restaurant part of the building. He stepped up two steps to the right of the café and saw a long row of eating tables lined up on both sides, all having booths as seats.

He made his way down the hall, looking at each and every person's eyes as he passed, looking for the red ones that had called him in here. In the back right corner of the room, two white triangular ears poked up from behand a booth's back seat, and a long, fluffy white tail drooped down off from the side of the side and swished lazily back and forth, but never touched the ground.

Something in the bottom of Blake's stomach jumped when he saw the white ears and tail, making his tail slightly wag and ears perk. He briskly walked down the hall and to the corner, getting closer and closer until he could see the face of the sitting fur, and, sure enough, it was the arctic fox from the memory. The fox was thin. Very thin. Blake felt that if he so much as touched him, the fox would break, but he carried enough meat that it wasn't unhealthy. He wore a plain red shirt that matched the redness of his eyes, and a blue flannel with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His headfur was long enough to reach down and touch the bridge of his nose, but he had it swooped off to the right side, while the back of his headfur was shorter, matching the length of the fur on the rest of his body.

He smiled sweetly when he saw Blake, but the smile had a bit of coyness behind it, though, he was sure it was a fox thing. "I see you've found my locket." He said, his voice light and husky. Though he was spoke completely calmly, there was something unsettling in the way he spoke, as if he knew something that Blake didn't.

The wolf looked down and saw the golden, heart shaped locked fasted loosely around his neck. He took it off and offered it to the fox. He chuckled slightly, a menacing jester that sent shivers down the wolf's spine, making his fur prickle. The fox shook his head. "Keep it. It clearly means more to you than it does me."

"What's your name?" Blake found himself asking, sitting down into the booth across the table from the fox. "Am I dreaming?"

"Kit, that's what people know me by, anyways." He said, his voice light as air and sweet as honey, but there was still something about him that seemed... poisonous. Kit tilted his head. "What's your name?"

"Blake," The wolf reached into his pocket and searched around, but couldn't find what he was looking for.

"Here," the fox pulled out a small pack of cigarettes and set them on the table, sliding them over to the wolf and smiling. Blake reached out and took the pack, a little hesitantly as he watched the fox for any sign of foul play. "So, you're able to see the memories of objects? That's pretty remarkable."

Blake froze. He's never told anyone about his ability before. "How'd you-"

"What? You think you're the only one with 'special' skills?" The fox giggled. "I guess that means you haven't figured it out yet."

"Figured what out?" Blake put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with the lighter he kept in his breast pocket.

"Think about it, if there are other with skills of their own, what makes you think they're using their powers responsibly?" Kit looked at his claws, clearly hinting at something.

Blake thought about it, the memories of the victim's deaths flashing before his eyes. "You mean someone with powers like mine are killing those people?" Kit nodded. "Do you know what it is? Whose doing it?"

The fox gave a small, be almost evil smile. "I do, but I need you to do something for me."

Blake leaned back, eyes narrowing and ears twitching. Great, of course that information wasn't free. "What?"

"I need you to find someone, an important person that can save a lot of people's lives, or take a lot of people's lives, depending on who gets to him first. He's incredibly powerful, but doesn't know it, not yet anyways. I need you to find him, talk to him, and bring him to me."

Blake looked passed the fox and to the rest of the restaurant, noticing that it was completely empty. "Why don't you just find him yourself?"

Kit gave a crooked smile. "It's a little hard for me to do that at the moment. I would myself, but he wouldn't listen to me. He and I aren't exactly on the best of terms. I feel that if you were to talk to him, you'd have a better chance of getting to him than I would."

Blake thought about it. He knew next to nothing about this fox, and he was offering to solve the case of a serial killer that Blake had been working on for over a month, with the repayment of finding someone for the fox, claiming it could save lives. He didn't trust the fox, not by a longshot, but he had to stop this killer from running free.

Kit reached over the table and placed his hand on Blake's, giving him a warm smile. "I know you don't trust me, you don't have to. But I can assure you, our goals are the same."

Blake looked away. The more he looked at the fox, the more attractive he was. "Who do you want me to find?"

"He goes by the name Boe, real sweet and shy kid. He was last spotted in Pittsburg Pennsylvania, so I'd start looking there." Kit looked into the wolf's eyes, a serious expression on his face, the first one Blake's seen. "Promise me you'll try to find him? It's very important, more so than you could imagine."

"Only if you can give me the information I'm looking for." He said.

The coy smile crept back on his muzzle, as if he had just saw something that made him want to laugh. He shook his head and looked down at the table for a moment before returning his gaze to the wolf's eyes. "Don't you think that it's kind of odd that you can never see the killer, like the victims are just dying on their own when nobody else is in the room? Almost like he's-"

"Invisible..." Blake finished. Of course. Up until now, he had never really considered anyone else having special abilities, much less the killer being able to make himself invisible. That explains why he can't see the killer, but... "What about the victims hearts? Why does he need those?"

"Do I look like I know what a psychopath's motive is?" he laughed, but continued. "I can, however, provide a connection to the victims. Each one was someone like you and me."

"Each victim had an ability? Then how I didn't see any of the victims use their skill to try and fight back?"

Kit chuckled evilly. "Could you use your ability in a fight?" he asked, and Blake understood. "Lots of people have a special ability, hundreds of people do just in this city alone, but ninety-eight percent of those special people don't realize they have that skill, and those that do realize their ability (like yourself) either don't know how to use it properly, too powerful to handle, or have ability like yours, where they're good for your everyday life, but not in combat."

"You have an ability too?" Blake asked. He wasn't sure he was buying this whole story, but everything that the fox was saying seemed to make sense, so humoring him was the best he could do.

Kit folded his hands across the table and leaned back. Blake felt something press against his groin and rub around, making him jump and hit his knee on the bottom of the table. He looked down to see the fox's bare foot playing with his crotch through his pants. "I have a few." He said, smirking as he dug his toes into the waistband of Blake's pants and give a few playful tugs.

Without even realizing it, Blake gave a low, happy growl at the sensation. It's been so long since he's last been touched down there. He closed his eyes and got lost in the pleasure, feeling himself grow and strain against his trousers. It felt good, too good. He opened his eyes, and, though against his better judgment, grabbed the fox's foot to stop him.

Kit's smile was unwavering. "What? Like it a little too much?"

"I'm married."

Kit stood up from his booth and walked around the table, sitting next to Blake and leaned on his shoulder. "I don't see a ring." The wolf looked to his left hand and noticed that there was, in fact, no wedding band around his ring finger. Before he knew it, Kit had undone the wolf's pants and was rubbing the bulge under his boxers.

Blake bit his lip and pressed his head back against the cushioned booth. Kit rubbed around for a bit, cupping his hand under the wolf's large balls and giving him a few gentle squeezes. The fox smiled as he hooked a figure around the elastic band and pulled the wolf's boxers down under his balls and grabbed his sheath, making Blake tense a little. He used a claw to peel away at Blake's sheath, finding a growing, slimy, red tip slowly make its way out of its fleshy home. He pumped his sheath a few times, getting a few inches out.

Kit slid off from the booth and under the table, licking his lips greedily. "I'll stop if you want me to." He said before he gave the wolf's exposed penis a tender lick. Blake shivered and clutched the edge of the table. Fuck, this felt really good. It's been so long, he felt he had forgotten what this feels like, and the fox was good.

The fox ran his tongue up the wolf's right orb and continued up to the shaft and tip of Blake's growing member. He was at about five inches now. Kit grabbed the wolf's penis and masturbated him while he leaned in to lick the nook in between the wolf's leg and genitals, lapping around his taint and back of his sac. Blake kept growing until he reached just shy of ten inches. The fox leaned back and looked at the wolf's bone. "You're really packing aren't you?"

Blake just groaned as a jet of pre shot from his tip and onto the bottom of the table. Kit leaned in again, licking up from the base of his shaft to the tip, where he stopped and placed it against his lips. He slowly let it enter his mouth, rolling his tongue around it as it entered and letting it hit the roof of his mouth as it went. Blake was overwhelmed with pleasure, feeling the little bumps and grooves of the fox's mouth around him just felt too good. When his tip reached the back of the fox's throat, he felt Kit start to swallow around him, taking him just a tad deeper before his lips kissed Blake's knot.

The fox began bobbing his head, feeling the twitches and jerks of Blake's penis. The wolf was having a hard time controlling himself, slightly bucking his hips as he wanted more, but kept as still as he could. Moans and small growls escaped his throat without him willing it. He reach down and grabbed the side of Kit's head, just under his ear, guiding the fox down with every bob.

He felt himself starting to build up and his knot starting to swell. He grabbed the other side of the fox's face with his free hand and began pulling Kit onto his cock at a higher tempo. He bucked his hips slightly. "F-fuck..." he growled, feeling as the fox reached up and rub under the wolf's balls and pucker. The touch was gentle like butterfly kisses, and it was too much.

He was sent over the edge, pulling Kit's face back until his knot plopped into his cheeks as he released his seed directly down his throat. He gave a few nudges, swinging his sac back and forth a bit to touch the fox's chin. He growled, louder this time as he finished in Kit's mouth. Got it felt so good. He can't remember the last time his orgasm felt this good, he just had a hard time believing that another guy was the one to pull it off.

~*~

Blake woke the next morning to a weather report playing on the television. That's odd, whenever he fell asleep, Carol would normally shut the T.V. off when she got up to use the restroom sometime in the night. He groaned slightly, sitting up and getting a flood of memories as he remembered the dream from last night. Just those were to get him worked up and swelling again, but he tried to ignore it; he had to get ready for work.

He turned the television off and stood up, feeling a bit of resistance in the fabric of his pants. He looked down to see the white and clear crust from last night's wet dream. He sighed. "Must'of been a good one." He mumbled to himself, taking off his pants and boxers before making his way to the bedroom to get new cloths. Carol should be at work right about now anyways, so he didn't mind walking around half naked.

He walked to the kitchen grabbing a carton of milk and not bothering with a cub ad he walked away, chugging it straight. He thought about his dreams and the cute fox he face-fucked. He shook his head as he thought about it. "A guy, Blake?" he asked himself in disbelieve. "God, I must be more desperate than I think. And he's half your age!" he talked to himself as he walked past the kitchen and into a short hallway. He walked down to the door on the left, opening it and looking inside.

The gut-gripping clutch of horror befell him as he beheld the tragedy within. Blood stained the walls, windows, bed and furniture, the stench catching him by surprise and making his eyes start to water. He dropped the carton and his pants as he slowly entered. A single body lay motionless on his bed as he drew closer. He knew who it was, but he had to make sure.

Getting to the edge of the bed and looking down, Blake stared as the blank, lifeless gaze of Carol looked back.