FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Well, I’d like to say I had a good run...who am I kidding, my life was shit.

Trent struggled with the ropes holding his wrists together behind his back, but they didn’t budge even a tiny bit. Neither did the ropes around his ankles, as much as he tried to jerk them this way and that. Not that he expected them to, the guys who had nabbed him were good at what they did. He’d seen their work before...well, he’d told himself he wasn’t going to end up being the subject of their work, ever. That didn’t end up working out so well.

I know they say drugs are bad for you, but that’s supposed to be a rule for users, not providers.

Admittedly, that was a risk of crossing a cartel. Trent knew they weren’t exactly nice people - the drug lords and their cronies usually weren’t. He didn’t really care, though, as long as he got a sweet payday out of it. If people wanted to poison themselves with his product, hey, that was on them, not him. He was never tempted to use himself, the kind of people he sold to tended to put him off of that very quickly. But there was a lot of money in selling them, and he liked money. A lot. Perhaps too much.

The cartel certainly thought so. Well, they did after they found out he was skimming extra from his take of the profits. They were supposed to have a deal - he sold, gave them the money, and got his share of it. Not exactly a worthless share, but Trent had quickly become dissatisfied, and started selling parts of his stash for extra to clients in secret and stashing away some of the money from his regular customers. He’d figured that they wouldn’t ever find out, not with the amount of money they were raking in from dozens of providers...surely they wouldn’t care that he was showing a few hundred dollars less each week, right?

Apparently they did. Because suddenly he found his apartment invaded, himself beaten and tied up, and a whole mess made of his place as they hunted for what he’d swiped from them. They hadn’t found it, of course - he’d stashed it away in a secret bank account, like a smart person sneaking money out from under people’s noses. Perhaps it didn’t matter, though, because they were pretty intent on making him pay a price that no amount of money in the bank would help him avoid. Now he was tied up in the back of a van, masquerading as a delivery van so he doubted anyone would suspect anything, and unable to move anything more than a useless roll.

I don’t know whether they’re taking me to the boss so he can kill me, or just going to kill me themselves. Either way, it doesn’t look good for me.

He was trying not to be terrified, but...who did want to die? He sure didn’t. He was only 26, there was so much life ahead of him...and now it was going to be cut so short, because some greedy idiots couldn’t appreciate another greedy idiot. Only a miracle could save him now, and he wasn’t the kind of person who had built up the good karma for miracles.

The honking of horns outside was a nuisance, further fouling his mood. He was on his way to meet the reaper, having to listen to the irritation of random schmoes who were going about their days, not in any danger at all, acting like angry assholes because they could...okay, maybe he was a bit bitter. He doubted anyone else could blame him, if they knew what kind of position he was in. Then again, maybe they’d say he deserved it, because he was a drug pusher and they thought he deserved the electric chair for daring to provide a product that his clients would have found anyway. Because apparently people couldn’t just leave well enough alone and let other people make their own mistakes...of course, him making his own mistakes led him to this sordid fate, and now he was hoping for miracles, so maybe he was no better…

The van lurched forward, and he was tempted to kick the side of the van and yell at them to learn to drive. Part of him thought he should just go for it, they were already gonna off him so there wasn’t much point in trying to make friends...but then again, maybe covering and groveling and promising he wouldn’t do it again would earn him a reprieve, just enough for him to book it to relative safety. If he made himself a nuisance, that was certainly out of the realm of possibility. Nonetheless, the jerky driving was making it awfully tempting anyway.

He was in no way prepared for the collision.

Without warning the van spun, throwing him around a bit. Before he could right himself, he heard what he was sure were gunshots, coming both from the van and outside it. A surge of terror raced through Trent, for a brief moment he was sure he was dead, that a bullet would shoot through and end him before the cartel could, or he could even hope to beg for mercy. This was it, this was what was going to be the end of him...and then it fell silent. Eerily so. Even though the sounds of traffic still continued, there should have been more, like a motor running in the van, or some kind of calamity, or SOMETHING.

Nothing. Well, until the footsteps. He heard them around the van, not very loud, not very urgent. Very strange. He kept deathly silent, not wanting to alert anyone to his presence - no matter who would know, they had guns, and he didn’t want those guns on him. He just listened as the footsteps traveled around, the sounds of movement in and around the van...and then the door open, and he squinted in the sudden harsh light. The dark back end had not made for good preparation for the sun flooding in, and he didn’t even have a hand to block it out.

“Well, well...looks like we have some interesting cargo back here.” The voice was deep, a bit growly...the guy it belonged to sounded like he was a freaking massive beast. And as he finally got some of his vision back, that impression proved to be quite apt - a tall, burly, uniformed bear with shades and an expression that filled Trent with dread. As much as the next words he heard out of him.

“Ricardo Calais. Substance Control Authority.”

———

In Trent’s view, it was more than likely he had exited one hell only to enter another. True, he wasn’t in the back of a van on his way to a demise anymore...but he was still bound, though the ropes had been traded for handcuffs and the van was now a hotel room, and the three human thugs were replaced with three not-totally-human law enforcers who looked just as rough and nasty while being about thirty percent bigger or more. The only change might have been that he could be offed legally now.

It was just the name that inspired terror. The Substance Control Authority was a law enforcement organization that existed solely for stopping the proliferation of illegal drugs. And Trent had heard tons of stories about them - how they could operate outside the law, how they could do all sorts of things to the captives they took, how they could sow death and destruction with near impunity if you were in the business of illicit substances. They were about the only people his employers were truly scared of - they didn’t act like it but you could tell how they reacted at any mention of them. Trent knew that he hadn’t earned any mercy, his history of selling was almost certainly well known to them and he could only wait for the hammer to fall.

He was the only one waiting. He hadn’t had time to look around, but the blood and the lack of activity around the van as he was pulled out and detained told him all he needed to know about the fate of his previous captors. Perhaps a bit ironic that the one being shuttled to death was the only one to come out alive...for now.

The bear who had found him, Ricardo Calais, was on a high-end cell phone, talking to someone in what sounded like a mish-mash of Spanish and English. He had a more than a foot on Trent, and was burly enough for two of him, maybe three. The way he talked and acted, it was clear he was the leader of the trio in spirit if not in rank, and that he did not mess around with anyone. Trent could imagine him in a split second whipping out a gun and capping him execution style, then going back to the phone like nothing ever happened. It was his luck that there weren’t any weapons on him now...well, no firearms at least. Those arms looked plenty dangerous on their own, and promised a far slower and messier death.

On the bed sat an alligator, whose name he’d caught as Garret Akinoa. He was typing into a laptop that looked more expensive than Trent’s last two cars combined, with the frenetic clicking of someone to whom it come second nature. With several pieces of equipment scattered around a bag at his feet, there was a clear sense that he was the gadget guy - except, one usually figured the gadget guy to be small and nerdy, and Garret was anything but. He was even a little bigger than Ricardo, and no less muscular...when even techies were heavies, you really had it going with your group.

Then there was the badger...Trent thought he’d heard the name Cooper Jenovich for him, though he wasn’t entirely clear on the last name. He sure didn’t sound Russian or anything like that, though perhaps it was second generation or something like that. He was the smallest of the three, but that wasn’t saying much - still several inches taller than Trent was, and he had what Trent would call ‘action hero muscle,’ where he seemed a more moderate size until you got up close and personal, and then he was not only buff but quite fast. He’d spent the time rummaging through bags, checking on his sidearm, and scanning and marking what might have been a map of some sort...and he’s shot Trent a few looks that had sent shivers down the human’s spine.

They don’t have to give me any options. Even if I wasn’t cuffed I couldn’t do a thing to them. Not unless I grabbed a weapon...but even that wouldn’t work, these guys have biolocked weapons, I couldn’t even pull the trigger.

Finally, Ricardo was off the phone, and turning back to the other two. “Right. Got the word. We’re good to go with the scumbag here.”

“Nice.” Cooper was grinning, and it disturbed Trent more than the glares. “Always love when we get to deal with the little creep on our own terms.”

Trent swallowed hard. “I...I’m the scumbag creep? You...you killed three people!”

“We took out three drug dealers who fired first,” Garret grunted, shutting his laptop and giving the human a glare. “Mourn your buddies all you want, but that was a clean kill.”

“They weren’t my buddies! They were trying to kill me! I’m a victim!”

“Don’t try to play us,” growled Ricardo. “You think we don’t know you? Trent Malcolm, white male, 26, 5-foot-10, a buck fifty, brown hair, blue eyes, and I could keep reading from your profile for a good while longer. Dealing for over two years, you’ve been in the eyes of the law for a good while now. The only reason you weren’t targeted was because we’ve had bigger fish to fry. You should consider yourself lucky for that, I don’t think I’d’ve had any problem grinding you under my foot.”

“You’re crazy! You all...what you’re doing is totally illegal! You can’t just do whatever you want like that! What about our rights?”

“Oh, yeah, what a shock, you’re gonna whine about your rights.” Cooper’s voice was dripping with venom as his scowl returned with a vengeance. “Funny how all you shits get all concerned about ‘legal’ once you’re actually caught and someone’s about to do something about you. YOU don’t gotta play by the rules, but anyone who wants to fuckin’ take you down’s gotta have all sorts of stuff in their way. Ain’t that goddamn convenient for you?”

Ricardo’s hand came down rather painfully on Trent’s shoulder, his claws digging in a bit. “It’s because of people like you that cartels thrive. That they’re allowed to ruin entire countries like the one I grew up in. Where the police are either powerless or corrupt, because drug money flows in and they are the ones who live like kings while turning the rest of the country into a breeding ground for crime and poverty. All so worthless shits like you can pretend you’re one of those drug lords, getting fat off the poisons you peddle.”

If he thought it was bad before, now Trent knew he was in deep shit. He’d suspected it from the name, but no question Ricardo was from south of the equator. He spoke too cleanly to not have some local background, but he might have been born there and was definitely raised there. And there was no question he took the issues down there personally, and had every intention of making it right as much as he could.

“You’ve no idea what kinds of lengths we’ve gone to to try to fix this.” Now Garret was getting back in on the riot act, like Trent needed more people on his case. “SCA knows their shit. It’s impossible to just fix the problem by shooting users. We’ve got rehab programs all over the country now, to get people cleaned up and on their feet. We’ve pushed urban uplift programs and community development projects to gets healthier communities which have less of that nonsense going on. Education programs for at-risk youth, real ones, not the dumbass stuff they tried to teach US that only made drugs sound cool. Selective legalization, to cut off some of the influence of the cartels…we killed several weed empires just by making it legal and regulated, and use of the nastier stuff has gone down since the safer hallucinogens were okayed. Everything we’ve done by the book, it’s helped, but it hasn’t stopped dirtballs like you from peddling toxins and trying to push back on our efforts because you want a few quick and easy bucks and the power that comes with roping people into addictions to your shit.”

“And that’s why they need guys like us who aren’t afraid to get our hands dirty, and give us the freedom to do our thing with near-impunity,” rounded off Cooper. “Fucks who’d sooner die than give up trying to ruin everyone else for their own gain? Fine, we’ll call their bluff. You think we’re shitty for offing ‘em? At least they’ve done something to deserve it, unlike YOUR victims. So your protests aren’t going to amount to jack shit here...you’ve got nothing except our mercy to hang your hat on. And we’re not exactly long on mercy.”

Trent was trying to act tough...well, no. At this point he was trying to act not scared shitless. There was no way he even had an even expression on his face at this point. “Ngh...why’d you even bring me in if you’re just gonna kill me?”

“Pah! You’re not even worth the time to kill,” Cooper spat. “You’re small fry. Just a douchebag who wanted dough and didn’t care who he hurt to get it. You ain’t the one organizing the whole shebang, and I ain’t gonna waste a good license to kill on something as trivial as the arm when I can get the heart. You’re looking at prison time. Two years dealing, that’s, what, forty in the clink? Maybe more if they can tie you to an overdose death or more. Can’t be that hard to do…you think you can handle four decades of hard labor?” Trent wasn’t sure, but he was sure he didn’t want to find out...his expression must have said as much, since it had the badger cackling. “Ain’t so nice when you gotta deal with the consequences, is it?”

It was all Trent could do not to visibly shake. There had to be more to it, there had to be… “I...what do you want?”

“Heh, he starts to get it.” Ricardo folded his arms and leaned down, almost in Trent’s face. “You want to escape a good chunk of life wasting away in a tiny cell? You can either take the forty years and rot...or you can sell out your buddies, and we’ll give you a tiny reprieve: you belong to US for eight years. Our slave, our prisoner, to do with whatever we want. A fifth of the time, but don’t think for a second it’ll be any easier. You’re gonna be put to work, you’re gonna feel agonizing punishment, and you’re gonna serve like you mean it, or we call it off, any time. That’s the choice you get, and don’t try to bargain, or we’ll just choose for you.”

That honestly didn’t sound like any better of a prospect to Trent...these three sounded extra dangerous, being in their presence for any amount of time might have been more hazardous to his health. But...forty years didn’t sound like it was an exaggeration, in fact it sounded like a minimum, and that was a long, long time. Lifespans were longer in this day and age, but that sort of last time was still brutal. Eight years was pretty long but it sure wasn’t forty. If it sounded good enough… “Wh-what...do you mean...by being your prisoner?”

“Simple, shitstain. It’s gonna mostly be like being in prison, except your cell ain’t gonna be in a giant block and there aren’t any other prisoners around, just you with us three in charge. Anything that you might get in there, you’ll get with us. You’re gonna suffer, but eight years, I think we can break you down and work you into something that’s not a piece of scum stain on society. You’ll be thanking us in the end for not making it worse.”

That was awfully presumptuous...but there was something more critical on Trent’s mind. “Anything...anything I might get in there...I would get with you? That...does…does that mean...‘that?’”

“Pahah!” Cooper burst out with a laugh. “You kiddin’ me? You thought you wouldn’t get pounded? Get a load of this joker!” He leaned towards Trent with a salacious grin on his face. “Boy, in prison, your ass would be passed around like bad gossip. Ain’t no way we’re gonna let you escape that. You’ll learn to open up nice and wide, and take whatever we make you take. Teach you a bit of humility, put you in your place where you belong.”

“So I guess the question is, you want forty years of that, or eight?” Garret was smirking at him, too, a bit maddeningly since he knew where his position was compared to Trent’s. “I know what sounds like a better option to me, but maybe you’re an idiot. Wouldn’t be the first time someone made a bad decision for themselves. Better decide quick, or you’ll lose your shot.”

Bullshit. Trent knew they weren’t going to rush him, because they knew exactly what they were doing. This wasn’t just an offer out of the goodness of their hearts - they WANTED a slave, they wanted someone they could control with impunity, they probably planned on using him like a sex slave for most of the time. Because these were three dominant, controlling personalities and they probably never were more in the zone than when they were ganging up on some unfortunate soul like him who couldn’t fight back. Heck, probably the only reason they were offering eight rather than more than that was because they figured they would get bored of him and want to move on to someone else. And if that was the case, maybe he’d get lucky and they’d get bored of him more quickly...or maybe he’d get unlucky and they’d decide that he hadn’t done his part and hold on to him for longer. He had no say in it - there was no formal deal, no sentencing, nothing legal about this, and if they decided to renege there would be no recourse for him.

But what choice did he have? Forty years in prison was a straight-up nightmare. He’d spent thirty days before, and that had been bad enough...and in a facility that wasn’t going to be as bad as the one he got sent to for an extended period, no less. He’d escaped with his rear unblemished then, but not for lack of attempts on it...it simply wasn’t going to happen in a higher security place where they cared more about getting work out of him than anything else. And rape was probably the best he could look forward to, he could end up being shanked or beaten or all sorts of unpleasant experiences. If these three wanted a slave that badly...they weren’t going to treat him WELL, but they weren’t likely to try to seriously hurt him. They clearly had their own set of rules, ones that he couldn’t believe were less in his favor than the prison system’s.

Fuckers. They know they’re offering just enough to make it not really a decision at all. And the worst part is that I know pretty much what I’m agreeing to, and try as I might, I can’t see any way I’m not getting a better deal. My ass is never gonna be the same...I can’t decide whether I hope I start enjoying it or hope I never get too used to it, I don’t know which would be better.

“I...I’ll take your deal. Eight years, I...I belong to you.”

“Sounds like a good choice,” Ricardo grunted. “But you’re gonna have to prove you can hold up your end up the deal first. Get the three of us off, with a minimum of pissiness, and you can consider that contract signed. But we ain’t taking a slave that’s gonna fight us every time we want to make use of him.”

Of course that would be the fucking deal. But Trent knew there wasn’t much choice - his ass was going to be destroyed one way or another, they had already told him as much. “Fine, but you’re gonna have to uncuff me if I’m gonna do that.”

The bear gave a nod to Garret, who pressed a button on one of his devices. The cuffs unclicked and opened, freeing Trent’s wrists, which he rubbed a bit to get the soreness out of them. Theoretically, he was capable of making a break for it...realistically, if he wasn’t outright killed, he was certainly destined for an oppressive prison sentence, worse than what they were suggesting already. Tensely, he stood up and started to disrobe, reluctant but compliant with the demands of his captors.

He wasn’t the only one, as Ricardo was removing his clothing as well...if one could call it clothing, it looked more like armor than anything else, heavy and protective. It was quite clear that Trent would pose no threat to him even without it on, though - that sturdy, muscular frame had more visible toughness in it than thirty of Trent combined. For once in his life, he regretted not working out, not giving himself something to compare to even mildly...then again, he could probably work out for a century and not approach that physique, so it would have merely been an illusion. There were no illusions as he stood, he was average among humans and hadn’t ever put in the effort to be anything but, his pasty skin even more stark under his garments.

Dropping the last of his clothes, his drawers, was harder than the rest...he didn’t want to be truly naked next to these people, exposed to them in a way that could never be taken back. But there was no helping it, he took them down and revealed his rather undersized package. He never did have much to offer in the bedroom, either in size or how one used it...heat welled up in his face as he saw Cooper smirking at it out of the corner of his eye, just because he accepted the truth didn’t mean he was at ease with being made fun of.

But his attention was rather rapidly brought back to Ricardo when the bear was fully nude as well. That sheath, those balls, they were huge compared to his...each one of those plump orbs could fit his whole nutsack with room to spare. And the thickness of that sheath promised something almost terrifying. As it emerged in front of him, that promise was realized starkly, making the human weak in the knees. Although pointed at the tip, the thing thickened out quite a bit, and at its norm was a rough match for the length and girth of his forearm. The size matched the bear’s frame perfectly, big and powerful and unstoppable.

It wasn’t even the biggest one Trent had seen...his thirty-day stint had included barely avoiding a dragon that he guessed was at least a foot and a half long, and had no qualms about putting it inside Trent if he’d had half an opportunity. But that one hadn’t ever actually touched him, while this one was going all the way inside him for sure. And if they were doing it like prison, probably without lube or anything, apart from whatever slickness graced it when it pushed its way out of his sheath. Or his saliva, if Ricardo made him suck it...or just pushed it down his throat and choked him with it. That seemed entirely possible, too.

At the moment, though, Ricardo didn’t seem to be angling to try to break Trent’s jaw, just his rear. “Good start, at least. On the bed, bitch. Garret, get your fat tail outta the way.”

“Oy, my tail’s all muscle, furball.” Despite the admonishment, Garret readily moved, vacating the bed and leaving it wide open for Trent. He could see the gator starting to work off his own armored clothing as he got himself into position, and had little doubt that the gator would be an equally imposing challenge for his poor pucker. He didn’t even want to look over at Cooper, the badger was probably smaller but Trent had a feeling he had a streak about him that he wasn’t keen to find out about…and yet there was no chance he wouldn’t in time. All of these prospects were leaving him very uncertain…but on the other hand, he could very well imagine being skewered on that dragon’s dick day in and day out in the clink, for a far greater chunk of his life even if he was lucky. And that might have been the average scenario, his other potential cellmates could make things even worse…no, he had to try to go through with this. So he grabbed the bedcovers and spread his legs, shutting his eyes tight as he tried to brace himself for impact.

And of course, said impact was like a cannonball. The tip of that monster ursine cock had barely touched his ring before it surged in, and Trent had to bite down on the bedcovers to stifle a yell. It was NOT painless, to be sure, and it had only gone in a couple inches, out of many to go. There was at least some slickness from Ricardo’s natural fluids, but it wasn’t much, and certainly wasn’t taking the edge off of the stretch. In ages past, this alone might have been quite damaging…the modern world had seen quite an uptick in natural flexibility, for better or for worse. Even then, overdoing it was risky, which was probably why Ricardo wasn’t shoving that entire staff in him at once…something that Trent knew could be a possibility once he was broken in, and wasn’t looking forward to.

Ricardo was clearly holding back as he worked himself inside, his thrusts were certainly not gentle but they lacked the full measure of his power that Trent knew he possessed. Inching in slowly, working his way in and working Trent’s ass into compliance, the stretch was getting very intense inside the human and he knew there was still more to come, there would be until he felt that fur against his butt. But it started to hit a little different when the bear found his prostate…well, perhaps more accurately, was thick enough that he couldn’t possibly miss it, and was practically flattening it as he burrowed in. It still brought an unfamiliar, uncanny pleasure to Trent, not enough to override all the discomfort but enough that it was making things just the slightest bit more tolerable. Which Trent knew he’d have to find at some point, he couldn’t last eight years of this without learning to like it to some degree…even if that was inevitably feeding into the narrative the agents would want to see, Trent couldn’t see any reason to bother trying to resist it. He was their bitch, plain and simple.

Suddenly Ricardo gripped him, and thrust in HARD, drilling the last few inches into Trent. The human tightened up and howled out, feeling the pain jolt through a fair bit more, but then the bear stopped moving, and his ass was allowed time to recover from it. He was panting hard, that hadn’t been easy to handle at all, but once his head stopped spinning Trent started to realize why he’d done it…basically ‘pulling off the band-aid’, a sharper pain to keep from prolonging Trent’s discomfort. Was that actually showing a hint of mercy? Or…was it just so that Ricardo could get to the good stuff faster? He had to believe it was the latter, he doubted there was much in the way of care to be shown to him by these three…

“Brace yourself, bitch, the real ride’s about to start.” Ricardo’s warning came just a few seconds before the bear started to move again, just as Trent’s ass had started to feel just a bit more relaxed and less achy. The movement of Ricardo’s dick in him reignited the feelings of strain a bit, and Trent bit down hard on the bedcovers to muffle himself, a very good move as Ricardo suddenly shoved HARD into him, and started to rock in and out with almost bestial fervor. Now THIS was what Trent had been expecting - raw, primal rutting, from a guy who could break him in half and had plenty of pent-up frustration to work out on him…the discomfort ramped up, even though Ricardo’s pre was spitting into him, wetting him up a bit more, it was still way more than Trent was ready for and he was struggling just to handle it.

At least, at first…it slowly started to get more manageable, even if not quite comfortable. And with that came the resurgence of pleasure, as the human’s prostate was getting a thumping unlike any Trent had ever experienced, and had only struggled to imagine in less pleasant thoughts. It was allowing him to start stiffening up between the legs, his own comparatively meager endowment leaking a bit onto the bed. From the side, he heard Cooper cackling. “Damn, bitch’s still getting hard even getting broken in like that? He’s gonna be a LOTTA fun.” It made his face redden, even if Trent knew nothing was being said that wasn’t already obvious. It wasn’t like he was TRYING to get hard, really, his body was just reacting as it was meant to…it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to be able to get something out of this, he tried to reason, but they were going to milk his response as much as they could, and he wasn’t sure he liked what they were going to imply about it…he could imagine, he’d heard enough jokes about what made someone a ‘good bitch’, even if he’d never been active in that sphere.

Moans were starting to mix in with Trent’s grunts, though, a clear sign that he was conceding even if reluctantly. The pain had mostly faded, the discomfort not so much, but either it had decreased or he’d just gotten used to it, and the twinges of pleasure were starting to build on each other. He could feel Ricardo thumping away, thrusting harder and growling deeper, the smacks getting louder and wetter as a furry body clapped into Trent’s rear. How long had he been going now? It felt to Trent like Ricardo was going on forever, showing no sign of slowing down or flagging…of course, his stamina would be a match for his strength, he just had to prove another thing he had over Trent, showing him how inferior he was…

When Ricardo paused and leaned over Trent, though, the human found himself wishing for that pace to continue - because it sure didn’t seem like it was going to stay that easy. And, just as he had expected in the brief moment he had to process it, the bear ramped up the pounding like the beast he was, slamming in forcefully and jerking out sharply only to drill in again moments later, putting that broken-in tush to the proper test. The discomfort became a renewed presence, soreness creeping in from the rough rutting, though it wasn’t as bad as it had been before…still, Trent screwed his eyes shut and just tried to keep from clenching down and making anything worse than it was. His cock was still hard between his legs, wanting attention, but he wasn’t about to give it any, not when his hands were gripping the covers too tightly to even think of release. At least it meant that Ricardo was probably close to being done, he only had a little ways to go before he was finished…with round one…

When Ricardo came, it was with a loud bellow that sounded almost like a roar, and clawed fingers latching on tightly, making Trent wince as the sharp sensations accompanied the sudden throbbing and soaking of his ass. A grungy feeling that he knew he was going to have to get used to, he’d be getting a lot of that over his service period…hopefully these beastly males were clean, Trent wasn’t exactly going to be able to vet that. A bit late to even ask about it, he supposed, as he was already being pumped full…it felt like an outright flood inside him, not exactly a surprise given how hefty those orbs had been. The good news was that Ricardo had stopped thrusting, meaning that he could adjust to just the feeling of fullness again, which had the discomfort fading back away again, more quickly this time…it felt weird that he could adjust to this that quickly, but he wasn’t about to question it, anything that made the prospect of this sentence easier to deal with was going to be an asset, whether he liked it or not.

By the time Ricardo stopped shooting, Trent wouldn’t have doubted that he contained a pint or more of ursine spunk. He was panting hard, shaking a little from the ride, a mix of feelings creating a confusing amalgam inside his head, one that would probably take some time to sort out…but as Ricardo finally pulled out of him, he knew that this was just the start of it. There were two other males in the room, and Trent had little doubt that they were waiting their turn.

“Not too shabby, bitch…minimum of whining, better than I expected.” Ricardo’s voice was somehow both approving and demeaning, another thing Trent suspected he’d need to get used to…any compliments towards him were likely to be heavily couched in sarcasm or backhandedness, especially early on. “Now let’s see how you handle two on one. And you’d better believe they’re not going to go as easy on you…since you’ve shown you can handle our gentlest, let’s see if you can handle our usual.”

“Heh, I think he’ll be able to handle it. I think the bitch might even get to liking it.” Garret’s voice had a sultry growl to it as he took Ricardo’s place behind Trent, scaly hands grabbing the human and pulling him closer to the edge of the bed, forcing Trent to get more upright. “You did a good job accepting Ric in you. But he was holding WAY back…you’re gonna want to get used to roughness, none of us like it gentle. And while we’re establishing some baselines here…” The gator released Trent’s hip briefly, only to scratch a claw lightly along Trent’s dick, making him moan a bit. “What I like is watching a bitch shoot off just from being rut. Hands-free. That’s the ONLY way I want to see you cumming while you’re ours. Don’t make us cage you, or do anything more drastic, that’s not nearly as fun to look at.”

Trent didn’t bother replying - was there a point in saying anything when he had no choice but to agree anyway? At least given the three of them would likely be giving him plenty of attention, he doubted he’d end up feeling that needy outside of that anyway. Not that he was sure he’d give the gator the display he wanted anyway, but that was irrelevant to his acceptance. But while he was occupied readying himself for Garret, he forgot about the other participant…that was rectified in a hurry when Cooper jumped on the bed, shaking Trent a bit and making him flinch back into Garret. The badger was grinning down at him, with a look that was almost scary in its savagery. “Ready to have your throat broken open, bitch?”

No, no Trent was NOT ready, but he doubted that mattered. Trent was getting an eyeful of what Cooper was packing…he was the smallest of the three, but that didn’t mean he was SMALL, it just meant that his largeness was merely imposing rather than ridiculous. But Trent doubted that meant he’d have an easier time…if anything, that probably meant Cooper felt he could cut loose a lot more. And he seemed like the kind to enjoy cutting loose, whether the target approved or not. Even if he was agreeing to this, Cooper was the one that made him the most nervous, he seemed like the loose cannon of the bunch, Trent had the fleeting thought that he’d be the one who’d whip out a knife and disembowel him at the drop of a hat, and then go back to whatever he was doing like it was nothing…he definitely wasn’t looking forward to being alone with the badger…

Once again he got too fixated, but perhaps that was the point. Trent wasn’t ready for Garret to drive his cock in, much faster and deeper on the first go than Ricardo, the extra little bit of size just offset by the cum lubing his bowels. He let out a cry, and that was rapidly cut off by Cooper shoving into his other end, making his jaw stretch suddenly and his throat strait to keep him out…a battle that was rapidly lost, as Cooper grabbed Trent’s head and forced his way in deeper. Trent gagged on it, fiercely fighting the urge to bite down on the intruder, knowing that that would be a one-way ticket to a hell he didn’t want to imagine. Somehow he held himself at bay, though he wasn’t sure that was something he wanted to tout as an accomplishment.

From that point on, though, Trent scarcely had to do much except endure. Garret and Cooper took charge as he knew they would, working him from both ends with barely any consideration for him. As promised, Garret was significantly rougher with him than Ricardo had been, taking advantage of his having been broken in to break him further, that thick cock surging in fiercely over and over, wet smacks ringing out from his ass as he hilted rhythmically, soaking Trent inside and out with his ample fluids. The discomfort and soreness was far from a distant memory, but it was surprisingly not as bad as he would have expected…and it was clear the gator was also trying to make sure Trent blew, just as he liked, as that cock was working over Trent’s prostate harder than he’d been worked over by the cartel’s cronies earlier that day. It was sending tingles and twitches through his cock, which was drooling onto the bed more than it had before.

A welcome distraction from up front, where Cooper was giving him what for. Trent had been right to surmise that the badger was the most energetic and reckless - the badger was slamming into his face hard, his fur the only thing cushioning the human’s face and only doing so much there. That cock was drilling deep into Trent’s throat, then yanking out, only to slam in again, giving him barely any time to catch his breath. Said breaths, when they came, were saturated with Cooper’s musky scent, which was sharper and rougher than Trent was ready for…the taste was only slightly different, having a saltiness to it that sort of clashed with that musk. It was certainly not going on his list of favorite tastes any time this century, but Trent knew better than to try to overtly complain, because if he did it was going to be even more of a constant than it already was threatening to be.

He was getting used to it, though…not liking it, but tolerating it. It helped to remind himself that it could be SO much worse…they at least seemed to be hygienic, prisoners would very likely not be to nearly the same degree, if at all. And they would have no reason to care about him, while these three at least wanted him around, in theory. And Trent knew that it would be a bad idea to have them reconsider that…that was why he started to squeeze and swallow, trying to make things a bit better for the two big anthros. Sure, swallowing meant he had to ingest more of that rough-tasting precum, and sure, squeezing meant a bit more of that ache in his ass from all the work it was already doing, but better this than a lot of alternatives. Even if he knew they were going to make light of that…

“Hah, bitch’s getting into it now,” cackled Cooper as he redoubled his efforts to embed an impression of Trent’s face in his crotch fur. “Figured he was a little slut at heart.”

“Might be to his benefit if he is,” grunted Garret as he upped the pace as well, his claws poking a bit where he was gripping Trent’s hips. “Rrrr, this ass is gonna get so swamped with my seed he’ll smell like gator for the rest of time.”

Trent wasn’t about to doubt that, the way Garret was leaking into him. And there was more to come, and come soon…the two anthros were showing signs of being on the verge. As was Trent himself, not entirely as he would have wanted it, but his own cock was twitching like it might blow at any moment, the victim of a relentless assault on his pleasure buttons that were making that sensation pierce through everything. He wasn’t trying to fight it, either…if this was what Garret wanted to see, fighting it seemed like a bad idea. But it was still competing with the ache and the stretch, and it was not at all clear what was going to win out…

Apparently, though, he was closer than he thought, because one opportune squeeze and one forceful thrust from Garret, and suddenly Trent’s eyes were rolling back and his body was shuddering as he came, loosing a pent-up load onto the bedcovers beneath him. The apex of orgasms it was not, but Trent couldn’t have honestly said it was horrible, either, just chaotic, his head still a mixture of sensations as the pleasure beat at it, pouring out his essence as demanded and desired. The reflex from this had him tightening down on both fronts, squirming under the grip of Garret and Cooper and fuzzing over in the head a bit as he weathered the sudden new rush.

Just as he was starting to settle down, the two using him were starting their own release. Garret was the first to get there, growling deeply as he slammed inside once more and let loose a hefty rush of gator seed, joining the remnants of Ricardo’s emissions as it pumped hard and fast into Trent’s bowels. The warm, slimy sensation spread deep and shallow, slipping over the parts of him currently being stretched and leaking out of his ass to add to the mess on him. But Trent vastly preferred this to Cooper’s end, where the badger grabbed his head, digging his claws in a bit and snarling as he unloaded…but he didn’t stop thrusting, making it infernally hard for Trent to properly swallow what was being fed. His cheeks were suddenly bloated with a gush of seed, and then that cock was shoved in and forced it out, splattering Cooper’s fur and Trent’s face and the bed with that thick jizz. The odd taste was made to bathe on his tongue, as he couldn’t manage to get enough down or out to clear it out.

It was a small mercy when Cooper pulled out and let the last shots of his load paint Trent’s face, marking him with that spunk in a display Trent was sure the badger thought was humiliating. Not that he felt like there was much of that to be had - he was already at the bottom, there couldn’t have been much farther to fall. Cooper leaned back, smirking at him, still sporting a wicked grin on his face but it had lost a hint of its edge at least. “Gave you a proper look for a bitch…coulda been a worse start, I guess, but someone’s gonna learn to swallow right, it looks like.”

“He’s never going to learn if YOU keep plugging his mouth, that’s for damn sure,” remarked Garret as he pulled out as well; he wasn’t shooting anymore, but the amount leaking out of Trent ensured that the mess was no less ample. “Looks like you passed, bitch. Better get used to this, we’re gonna get you familiar with all sorts of ways to be buggered.”

“And don’t think that’s the only thing you’ll be having to get used to,” added Ricardo from his seat nearby. “Gonna be a long sentence, you’d better believe it. End of eight years, though, I think you’ll be thanking us for making you get your shit together.”

Trent wasn’t about to go that far…yet. But they had a lot of time to change his mind, he supposed…they were intent on making him a different person, it seemed, and there wasn’t a whole lot he could do to oppose that, nor a whole lot of reason to. Whether they would succeed, well, he’d leave that to the future to decide…but his ass, at least, was certainly never going to be the same.