FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It had been a long day. For me and for everyone else in the newly opening Stars Refinery. Even now, I don’t get what it took me to accept the request to open the place. Was it the owner’s suave voice? Or was it a yearning to see a place where I could relax?

I… Still cannot tell.

My thoughts are eluding me, particularly now. Yet, I remember the slow downfall. The slow descent after I entered the Stars Refinery, met with a familiar gaze and a place I would grow to know intimately.

That night, I had been invited in advance. The Bull-like owner had sent a note to my office with a bottle of champagne decorated with a ribbon. Of course, I had to throw away the bottle, but I kept the note:

“[I]To Istvan, may your presence grace us the opening: the seventh of October.”

[/I]There was no signature; there was nothing but proper calligraphy. I read and read again until those words were etched in my mind.

The same words continued to roam freely within my skull as I sat before the Stars Refinery’s owner, someone who never divulged his true name except… a sobriquet: Bull. A monster of a man whose attire almost burst at the seam whenever he made any effort, but at the same time, whose aura was soothing.

“How can I treat you, sir? Whisky? Vodka?” asked the man, alone in the bar except for me. He had ushered me in advance. Now, I know the reason why. But before, I thought it had been a way to sway me and perhaps get the favor of the most powerful entity within Umbraton.

I merely asked for his selection of wine, picking the one whose age and flavor could be adequate for my palate. Enough for one, two, and then three bottles. He comped them, saying it was a gift from him to the man who had helped him.

Again, I entertained the thought of accepting the gifts that kept coming, inebriating myself to the point of a dumb stupor.

The point I didn’t even notice was the presence of customers entering the bar, whistling and admiring the brick walls, the pure retro style with wood everywhere, or the low yellow lighting that gave the place an aura of a mancave.

That place, as expected, didn’t gather many ladies… But at that moment, I was a tad surprised. And pissed.

“Where are the ladies?” I even asked the Bull, only to get a shrug as an answer.

“Maybe they got lost on the way? Is there an issue?”

Such an answer didn’t satisfy me. Plus, with the alcohol rushing to my brain… I wasn’t able to retort with the expected poise. Worse was the feeling that stirred in my loin, making me search for respite.

A question and a nod later, I was in the bar’s toilets. The place wasn’t as classy as the front. Still, it was clean enough as I leaned against the sink. And saw myself.

Tired, ugly, with my impeccable hair undone. Even my suit had been detained. Istvan… The lord of Umbraton. I looked more like a hobo, with bags under my blue eyes or my muzzle marked by dropping lips. I hated what I saw at that moment, watching my horns and my gray skin… yet without the mask I had carefully crafted over the years.

I think I scowled and swore something. Shit, or bastard, or anything… I remember how pissed I was when I found myself in a toilet stall with my pants down and my face in my hands.

I had let myself go, but for a second. A moment which I had to cull and limit… I would have to get out and leave, never to step in, and merely maintain a cursory watch over the Refinery’s benefits.

I didn’t hear the steps, the chuckles, or the sounds of the other stalls surrounding me closing up.

But I hear the opening zipper and the sound of a stream hitting a bowl.

Pulling my head out of my hands, I looked around. The stall walls were high, adapted to every morphology and to ensure nobody could peer. Yet… And yet, something had been… Made.

Holes. Gloryholes cut through the stalls right at a groin’s levels for most. I didn’t know what it was at that moment, but my curiosity brought my eyes closer to the passage. A strange calling that someone surely noticed because I was presented with my first dick.

Nobody remembers their first experience well, as it is often buried within shame and fear. I couldn’t describe the cock in the most detail. But I remember how I felt. The scorn at the musky scent, the disgust at the aroma of piss… Then, the surprise from the heat emanating from the pulsating organ.

The taste was surely the same as for most cocks. Still, I was amazed by the tickling at my tongue tip when I opened my mouth and ushered that cock inside. I was… Surprised by the easiness it was to service that cock. And I loved every second of it. Even when I nearly choked myself by throwing my muzzle against the stall, almost breaking my skull from the contact.

I think I also hurt the owner of that cock, somehow, since he growled and whispered an insult at one moment. But in my state, lust, and alcohol mingling, I didn’t care and merely sucked him.

And when he got off? I swallowed it all. His tangy load, the sticky flavor spreading on my mouth. I gulped it down loudly… me, the Lord of Umbraton.

And I would do it again.

I did it again when I heard a whistle and turned away from the receding cock to face another one, a different cock poking from the opposite side. Like the first, I sucked it, worshiped it, used my tongue like a tool until I was given another load.

I could have stopped. But I didn’t. Instead, I pleased the men who came in the nearby stall. I didn’t stop, even when my jaw begged for mercy. But I stopped when they ceased to come, and my stall opened on the Barman. On Bull.

---

That moment marked a change in my life.

With one offer, my… lifestyle was irremediably changed. To the outside world, I was still Istvan, the lord of Umbraton, the dragon who led the city’s depths, enforcing the rules and deciding on the new changes.

My voice still carried the authority necessary to impose order in chaos and oppose anyone threatening my domain. In fact, many commented on my brighter attitude and my steadfast and resolute presence after months of dereliction, they said.

But it was… A sham. A shell I presented to the outside world.

The truth was uglier, and it was a slow descent. Again, I do not remember every night or event. I cannot tell what I did on the third and fourth day in that slow fall; I would have to lie. But some days come to me easier and clearer. Their… Details brought me to another step in my fall.

One such day comes back to me, a stark reminder.

I was coming back to the Stars Refinery late in the night, avoiding the most crowded streets with fear in my heart. I didn’t want to be recognized as I approached the bar by the back entrance and entered it. As usual, the place was stuffed, and the new waiters Bull had engaged fumbled over themselves to handle all orders.

I stayed in the shadow, careful not to be seen as I was ready to settle back into the now familiar stall, welcomed by the stench of dicks and fluids. Yet, I bumped into Bull.

The man had been waiting for me that night, expecting me and ready to intercept me.

“Change in our schedule, Draggie,” he said, using that derogatory nickname.

“What is it?”

“Some clients want a moment with you,” he said, placing a hand over my shoulders and guiding me to the toilets. He pushed aside the “out of order” pole and entered with me, pushing me towards the familiar stall. The lights were mostly off, with only a few dim spots on in the other stalls. He had planned it by making sure nobody could recognize me.

“Strip,” he ordered.

And… I did. I removed my familiar and rich clothes, handing them to him. He didn’t seem to care to see me naked. Truthfully, he had already seen my lean body and my erect cock, so it wasn’t a surprise for him.

Pushing me to my limit, Bull didn’t seem interested in me physically. And he wasn’t.

“Here. Take care of them,” I said as I handed him my underwear, which he placed on a pile, before giving me a band so I could attach my long, unruly white hair.

“Here are the rules. You don’t speak. They pay, enter, and do their stuff. Got it?”

“What if… They ask about my identity or try to record me?” I asked, ashamed of the identity I was about to play.

“They won’t. Or I will kick them out. Any question?”

“None.”

“Take your spot.”

It wasn’t take the place, or do what I was asked. No, it was to take “my” spot and sit on the toilet with my legs spread as the door closed. For a moment, I was kept in the complete dark with nothing but my own heartbeat, drumming, and hitting to remind me of my existence. I waited. My heart skipped a beat when I heard a voice coming louder from the other rooms.

They shouldn’t be able to see me in the darkness while I should… Even then, I was afraid they’d recognize me… Put a name on me.

I was so afraid I almost missed the sound of people entering. They were drunk, talkative, slurring. I think I even recognized Korgon’s voice; the massive shark had such a deep voice that it was impossible to mistake it.

However, he didn’t go for my stall but for the one on the left. I heard him groan and moan… And then, I saw it. One of his cocks.

The red flesh was almost devoid of color in the dark. But the marine aroma, as well as the elongated tip, was all I needed at that moment.

My mouth worked relentlessly, and I gave the man what he desired: pleasure, satisfaction, and delight. Beneath my tongue, his cock pulsated and trembled like any other. And like any other, it ended with me swallowing his load. Quickly, loudly… Without thinking.

“Huh”

I broke Bull's rule of silence, but for a good reason. Whereas the clients were supposed to do their stuff, I was surprised when something was slid over my side of the Gloryhole. Something sticky, covered with fluid, and filled with the same white fluid—a little bag.

“Second service, slut,” said Korgon with a laugh before I heard him step away from the stall, leaving me with that filled condom I held in my hand. It was… Sticky, musky, it stank of sex like any dick… But even then, I passed it against my mouth and sipped its content.

It was… Even better.

The aroma was concentrated, yet different from being cooled by the air. The flavor stuck to my tongue as I carefully mixed the liquid with my saliva. I… Took longer than it should, I admit. But it felt good. It was good.

It was so good I even forgot where I was and what could happen.

What could happen when someone flung the stall’s door open and closed it before him, leaving us alone in near-darkness. His breath was quick, his demeanor furious as the man approached. He was… Smaller than I. But even then, I saw that leonine face looking back at me as if he could peer through the darkness, too.

But his eyes were… On the condom.

He could see it and notice me drinking from it. Did he notice who I was?

I don’t know; I probably won’t. But I heard his chuckle as he approached.

“A condom? I should tell the others to bring you a collar of it,” he said with such a lustful voice. He licked his lips, the saliva dripping from it. He was… Excited, his pants bursting at the seam. I noted the details of his veiny shaft even from beneath his slacks. The massive cock throbbed, stuffed the right leg in an attempt to contain it… barely.

It was a monster, a dick so big it could wreck me… And ruin me.

I didn’t step back. Fear didn’t hold me back as I instead reclined on the toilet with my legs spread. My ass… I had cleaned it before coming here; I was prepared for this eventuality. Why? I was… I couldn’t deny the appeal of it.

And Bull gave me that opportunity.

He allowed me to see that lustful beast pull his pants down and expose that throbbing human cock. Its length was wonderful, tantalizing. Precum dripped from it, and its perfume filled my nostrils, making me salivate no different than that pervert.

That cockhead was so thick it could be closer to my fist. It was so thick, and steamy, and musky. I felt my hole quivering at the mere thought. I… Should have been afraid, since I had never taken something like this before.

I might be powerful, wise… But to find the lord of Umbraton screaming or maimed in a sordid bar, nothing but a whore?

The worst… Was how I liked the idea.

My teeth dig into my lips at the image I had built in my head of the situation. I managed to draw blood from it as the man’s cock pressed between my legs. I could be brutalized and abused… People would know my secret. Would know I was but a cockslut passing each night sucking on men’s dicks until I had my stomach filled with spunk.

“Eager to taste a true dick, bitch?” asked that guy, as refined as a gut-punch.

As the gut-punch he gave me when I nodded.

I screamed. Well, I managed to muffle my scream, but I screamed. Air escaped my nostrils and between my gritted teeth. A teary veil covered my eyes, but I still managed to see the glistened teeth of that pervert while he took me. That and the bulge his cock formed beneath my soft belly, making it bulge like those pants before…

I was amazed, I was in pain, I was in heaven. I let out another muffled scream when he pummeled my guts.

I think… I scratched him.

I scratched the walls, leaving deep marks within it. I smelled at one moment the drawn blood. But it didn’t stop him from beating my ass raw and red. My hole quivered and clenched, unable to resist the assault… He nearly pulled on the sphincter, nearly yanked it out until I managed to stop the clenching, at the last second.

But the sensations of it remain. Even now… My hole puckers. It clenches beneath whatever I wear, around whoever I ride when I think of that guy.

He broke me, ruined me, and made me whole yet empty. He branded my ass with his thighs and testicles. He reshaped my guts to bear his presence.

When he was done with the first round, I was a mess. And yet, it was better than before. My ass could no longer close, and cum rushed out of it like a fountain. I no longer felt my legs, even though they were up and licked by that guy. He licked them after having pulled my socks off… He licked the sweat off them, his tongue swirling around the toes and between them on the right… Then, the left foot.

I could… Maybe. I faintly remember the stickiness against my instep when he nearly tickled me. Then, when I managed to curl my big toe… He watched me.

“Another round?” he said, disdainful and perverted.

I think we went for four rounds, maybe five.

Whenever he asked me, I answered with a nod. On the back, against the wall, on the belly while hugging the toilet, then riding… By the end, my stomach was so swollen I looked pregnant. I could no longer say anything. I remember trying to move my head but couldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t feel anything coming from my body. Stupor had taken me… And instead of releasing me, the guy placed me on the toilet.

I never saw him again. The last vision I have of him… The last scene was me trying to catch my breath as I looked up. He… Was at the door, chuckling back and zipping up his pants. His cocky grin was there, remained there while he put back his baseball hat.

“’Fun breaking the new whore in town. Good cunt,” he said to me as he closed the door on me.

I… Think I might have fallen in love.

Not with that guy precisely, but fallen in love with that… idea. Of being a whore. I know it’s absurd; I cannot do that full-time. But… I do fancy it, sometimes. Letting everything go and care only for my customers, to suck them until my throat is on fire. Or to ride them until I cannot sit.

The thought, the imagery, ran through my lust-addled mind for what felt like hours. Until the door flung open, and another guy came in. He wasn’t as hung as the first one, but his dick was enough for me. I swallowed my saliva. I tried to clench my asshole to make it look as tight as before I was ruined. The sole result was to eject a glob of cum that landed on the ground in front of that guy. He laughed, then closed behind him…

And he took me. He and the numerous friends he had invited to his birthday party that evening.

---

And that was how I ended that way…

This is how… I am.

I watch myself in the mirror, seeing only the bags under my eyes from nights spent worshiping men. My cheeks drop slightly, yet I can see the wrinkles born from smiling too much. I know my assistant is telling me I look radiant at the moment; she’s so keen on praising me for my changes in behavior.

She doesn’t see the spots where someone grabbed my mane and pulled on it like crazy to keep me choking on his dick. Or the make-up that covers the bruises I have over my neck and cheeks. She wouldn’t be praising and gushing over me if she noticed it. Still, I can see the ugliness I bear ever since I’ve given in and accepted my addiction.

Without missing a beat, she offers me my coat and raises it so I only have to slide my arms in it to put it on.

“What should I say to unexpected visitors?” she asks, her heels clicking against the cold ground while she returns to my desk. She would hold the fort while I’m gone, taking calls and sending messages on my behalf. But what messages?

“I am unavailable for the evening. Unless for the few I have listed, as usual… Tell them I’m at the refinery,” I say, my mouth speaking while hers contorts in a smile.

“Oh,” she states, with a suave tone. “Are you looking to meet your secret lover?”

“Yes… I am.” White lie.

“I won’t tell a soul where you go unless they’re your friends. Now… Shoo! Shoo! Don’t make him wait!”

She ushers me out of my office, pushing me out like I’m unwelcome. She isn’t so wrong.

Once outside, walking through the long corridors, nodding to the familiar guards, is a breeze. No one would dare speak up to the Lord of Umbraton.

Their gazes are on me; perhaps some have been part of my customers? I guess while I leave the house, instantly welcomed by the dark streets that all lead to the same place: The Refinery.

I am late, and the doors have been flung open. Three of the habitués are outside, sitting and chilling with their booze in their hands. And when they see me, I hear their chuckles.

“Long night, milord?” asks one of them, Sork. With one flick of his left hand, he lights a cigar. He takes a long puff off before blowing it out in my direction.

“In perspective,” I answer, approaching and taking the offered cigar, taking a puff… And sighing.

“Sounds good. The boys have prepared a gift for you,” he says with a chuckle, his expression as sibylline as usual.

But it’s fine. I leave them be and enter the bar, welcomed by the roaring music. The crowd is ecstatic tonight… The bodies press together as the waiters take order after order. Everything I could say, even my presence, is muffled by the walls of bodies I must squeeze through. I soon… I feel them.

One hand rubs my ass, making me shiver.

Another play with my chest, undoing the buttons and playing with my skin below.

Each step is a lecherous gaze, a compelling experience.

As surely, my progress slows while the men work on my body.

My vest is removed as quickly as I put it. My shirt is unbuttoned, my chest stroked.

My shoes are taken off as I’m lifted and forced into a kiss.

My pants follow, the belt disappearing in an instant while the hands rub my nipples and fingers play with my swollen asshole.

My underwear… Well, I feel it is taken away before I’m put back on the ground.

The surface is cold to my left foot, the only one without socks.

“We’ve been waiting for you to party,” whispers one of them, biting my soft ear. The same who’s managed to grip one of my nipples between his fingers and pinch it.

“Your first customer is ready, milord.”

“Keeps the socks on.”

“I wanna feel your teeth, tonight.”

Milord… They’ve given me that nickname, only for that place. And without thinking, I extend my arms to embrace them. Without waiting, they guide my fingers to their throbbing bulges or their chests… Or their hard dicks as they pull their underwear down before I am offered an underwear to take along.

“I’m next, Milord.”

“No… I am!”

Suddenly, behind me, the men start fighting while I continue my advance, wearing nothing but my socks… Or the fine collar strapped around my neck. It’s sticky, musky, tantalizing… The men have been filling condoms while waiting for me, and I can feel those bags sloshing with all that delicious cum.

One of those I even dare to pluck one to drink as the crowd dissipates before me.

Customers are giving the toilets a wide berth, especially with Bull standing at the entrance and keeping the door open.

“They’re rowdy tonight; better get back to work,” he says, smacking my ass and making me jump.

“They are.”

They are always rowdy, always so eager. But never in the toilet. Somehow, when I enter the place, there’s a sense of… Peace.

The stalls are clean, devoid of any markings and degradation, except one. That one. The walls have been covered with claw marks, and the scent emanating from it is foul: piss, sex… And worse.

Yet, I feel welcome as I sit on it and… bring the underwear I’ve been holding to my nose. The scent coming from it is intense, spicy, and musky. The smell of a stud who’s been looking to dick me down for hours. I huff the piss stain, filling my nose with it… And even dare to lick while the aroma of cum tingles the back of my throat.

“Ah… Don’t make me wait,” I mumble, as I can feel my dick throb so hard. Without thinking, I grip it. Now, I can no longer ignore the damp sock wrapped around it, the strands brushing against my sensitive skin while I stroke myself.

I can feel the knitting right against my pisshole while I pump my hand up and down… And feel how the damp fabric desperately tries to soak in the precum from my cock.

I-… I know I shouldn’t cum right now; it’s only the beginning.

But I want it. I want my release… I want to be free and satisfied as I huff that dirty underwear like the pervert I am. Am I licking the stain again and again? Yes. I cannot get enough of the men coming to see me and have a moment with me.

They’re rowdy, crass, pervert. They leave me sore, in pain, and unable to walk. But I cannot live with their dicks. No longer.

I cannot refuse what they desire… Even now, one of them enters the stall with that same deviant smile. His cock, wide and stinky, stands out. He hadn’t taken a shower after a day of hard work… But it’s fine. Perfectly fine as I lower my back and expose my gaped and ruined cunt. The rim had swollen over the days and is constantly sensitive now… And the only thing that can scratch that itch… Is to be fucked. Fucked, stuffed, abused… Ruined.

“We missed you, milord,” mumbles the guy, grabbing my dick and crushing it with his firm hand, stroking it without giving it … or me a rest.

“I-… I missed you all,” I answer… As he takes me. And will. Like every man in the Refinery.