FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A kaleidoscope of colours fill the centaur’s windscreen as he pulls his truck into the largely empty field. Small reward for rousing himself in the small hours of the morning, so early it was almost late, but he cannot deny the beauty of the rising sun just barely cresting over the trees as he gets himself parked and begins the slightly arduous process of getting out.

While the centaur’s form - Fionn is his name - makes exiting from the confined space a challenge, he has years of experience under his belt. No-one would claim the movement was graceful, but it looks more natural now than the flopping out like a drunk three-legged donkey that his first attempts resembled. Taking merely a handful of seconds before he's standing in the crisp early morning, alone save for the handful of staff unlucky enough to get the early shift.

"Good morning, Mr Longback." The deep voice startles the centaur mid shoulder roll, the taur flinching slightly as he turns towards the sound that came from behind his truck. A little surprised that the stranger could approach so close without him realising, especially when he gets a good look at the figure stepping out from behind his truck.

An anthro bull - specifically a highland, with that unmistakable mop of hair that had somehow been corralled into something respectable - almost as tall as the centaur if you include their horns. Dressed in a suit that looks fancy , even to Fionn's untrained eye, and yet it wasn't a case of a rich toff flaunting their wealth with a total abomination of an outfit either. A nice deep blue that worked surprisingly well with the brown hair, shirt a perfect match for the pale horns that curled up through that well tended hair.

The letter that Fionn had received, the reason he had arrived at this ungodly hour, had given him very little detail on what to expect. And having such a well-off gentleman be the one who had summoned him, well, that just lends credence to the rather generous offer made on that same invitation. A letter whose contents the centaur had strained to commit to memory, though the signature eludes him for a few moments. It takes a hot second but it does finally hit the taur, holding out a hand to shake. "That's right... Winston, I presume?"

"Quite so.” Leaning against the side of Fionn's vehicle the bull goes silent, head tilting slightly as he runs his brown eyes along the length of the centaur's body. Making no attempt to hide a longer gaze at that large equine rump, though the taur's head-on pose makes such a look... Incomplete. At the silence stretches Fionn coughs, then gestures towards the back of his truck. “Would.. would you like to come in?”

“Please.” With a chuckle Winston unfolds his arms and steps around to the back, giving Fionn the space he needs to operate the door. Revealing taur-centric customisations abound as the roof lifts itself to accommodate his greater-than-a-horse height with ease. A duck more out of an abundance of caution than any actual need to do so, there being enough height even to accommodate the bull and their majestic horns, those dark eyes roaming again to take in the interior. One much cleaner than your average equine transport, though that's perhaps unsurprising given the taur is the only one using these facilities, arrayed out more like a miniature living room than a horse box.

"My employer sends his regards, and apologies for being unable to attend in person. Rest assured that he shall get a full accounting of your doubtless spectacular performance." Winston is straight to business once he's situated inside Fionn's truck, seated on one of the sturdier looking fold-out chairs. The taur returns the statement with a raised eyebrow, waiting for his guest to continue while flicking through a bundle of papers out the corner of his eye. "I trust you received your copy of the contract?"

Picking out the few stapled-together sheets Fionn lifts them up for the bull to see. "Yes, thank you. It was a little light on the detail about said employer, though with that amount of money, well.." The taur gives a nervous cough and turns his face away briefly, feeling a little awkward at having brought the topic up. Concerns that are waved away by a big hairy mitt and a light chuckle. "He is someone who usually gets what they want. So, as the newest member of this little family you're probably wondering what exactly your new duties will entail?" The centaur responds with a slight shrug, quickly switching to a slight nod in response to Winston's question. "In that case I shall put you out of your misery. In a minute."

Turning to leave the bull quickly walks out of the truck, leaving Fionn somewhat stunned for a moment at the abrupt exit. But it does provide the ideal opportunity to turn without whacking his guest with a mass of equine rump, bending his equine spine in a way that his future self might take issue with so he's now facing towards the door. Just in time to catch the return of Winston, though now the bull is holding a rather long duffel bag in one hand that he sets down on the floor next to the taur.

"Good. I was going to ask you to turn, it will make things easier for the two of us. Does this-" One hairy mitt gestures towards the wide-open door of the truck, through which another couple of early-arriving competitors are visible driving over. "-close?"

"Mhm, let me just.." Fionn operates the controls, the ramp rising up slowly to leave the interior of the truck basked mostly in the artificial light of the interior, though a few rays of sunlight still streak in through the gap above the now folded ramp. Leaving the taur momentarily blinded as he adjusts to the lower light, therefore completely missing Winston stepping up to his side.

“Take off your top, Fionn.” The bull’s request draws a raised eyebrow from the taur, mouth opening as if to voice an objection. Not it never comes, buoyed perhaps by the seclusion now provided from that closed door. Pulling his t-shirt off, once again cursed by his future self for the way he contorts to achieve such a feat, Fionn finds himself cloth-blinded and so rather surprised by the touch of a hairy mitt to his chest. Offering a sharp intake of breath in lieu of an outright objection he endeavours to ignore that roaming paw while disentangling himself from his suddenly rogue top.

Once Fionn was free of that traitorous garment Winston had already worked their way down to the bottom of his human body, quick enough that it had barely given Fionn the chance to raise an eyebrow at his guest before those paws press into his equine-human joint. It’s both a complicated section of his body and somewhat sensitive to the touch, causing a brief wince as the bull pushes a finger in on each side. Feeling round the web of muscle and spurs of bone. “It’s a fascinating thing that you have here, Fionn. Such a marvel of bone, tendon, and muscle, all working in such perfect harmony to allow you to move as you do. Show me how far you can stretch, back then forward.”

“Okay…” It takes a second for Fionn to regain his composure and start bending himself backward. With a straight back he can get far enough to stretch a hand down to touch the very front of his hindquarters, though the strain of the pose is evident on his face. Holding it for a second before bending forwards, going right the way round. Stepping his forelegs slightly forward and apart the taur is able to get his head to almost touch the ground - and that’s while he’s keeping his human back as straight as he can - bracing his hands on his equine knees (well technically wrists, but common usage and all that) to help push himself back up to standing. “That what you expected?”

A nod from the bull answers Fionn’s question, then they get right back to their examination of the centaur’s form. With his indistinguishable-from-a-horse body there’s not too much for Winston to linger on, running both hands first over the centaur’s back and down his rump, then moving to the front to repeat the motion on the equine’s belly. Ticklish is once again the operative word to describe how Fionn feels, and with how the bull’s fingers seem to linger on spots that twitch the most he has a sneaky suspicion that the touch is deliberate.

Fionn has absolutely no doubts about the deliberateness or otherwise of Winston’s next move. It is difficult after all to accidentally take a hold of an equine sheath in one hand, dangling testicles in the other, and give both leathery bulges a firm squeeze. No chance for the centaur to hold back his reaction to that, an audible gasp from the front and a quick flick of his tail at the rear. Even going so far as to paw at the ground with a hind-hoof while the bull gets a good feel for the size and weight of his package, leaving his sheath slightly more bulged than before once they let go.

“Does my junk pass the test?” Fionn only half-heartedly twists his head round, looking not quite towards the bull but just off to their side. All the better to hide the slight flush of his cheeks from the sudden, unexpected, though not particularly unwelcome attention to his breeding equipment. With his gaze averted as it is he misses the slight smirk on the bull's face in response, Winston not deigning to answer the centaur's question out loud. Instead continuing on to finish his once-over, stepping round behind that nicely muscled equine rump.

"Lift." comes the command from the bull, hand resting just to the side of Fionn's tail. It takes a second for the centaur to take the hint, then another to actually bring himself to comply. But it's such a little thing, he tells himself. Hardly any different to having my balls groped, that was the next thought as the bull helps his tail out the way, feeling the light touch of warm breath over that suddenly exposed-feeling pucker. Vague sounds that he can't quite place emanate from behind him, though the taur keeps his attention out through the small gap above the closed ramp, watching as a few more competitors start to trickle in to the field.

That attention swings back inside when a thick bovine digit pushing its way into the plump donut of his tailhole. Fionn is no stranger to having that muscle stretched round 'things', and it's only this experience that keeps him from bucking in surprise. Though he can't hold back the brief moan, quickly biting his lips to cut the sound off and glancing guiltily outside. Vehicles still winding their way over means that sound wasn't overheard, to Fionn's relief. Even if he wasn't exactly being relaxed by what must be a thumb running a slow circle around the inside of his ring, the taur releasing a shaky breath when Winston pulls it out.

"Very good, you should be able to handle the next part with no issue." Winston speaks with the tone of someone inspecting a car that's in for a service, not one who's just stuck a finger into a centaur's rear. Leaving said taur to regain his composure, steadying his breathing while the bull unzips the large duffel that had already been forgotten by Fionn. Drawn by the noise the centaur peers round the bull, trying to get a peek as to what was contained within. In vain, the bovine's bulk enough to keep his view mostly blocked, Winston making sure to keep his body between inquisitive eyes and the contents of the bag too.

"No peeking now. Keep that tail lifted for me, Fionn." Noises from outside start to make themselves known now, the low rumble of vehicles moving slowly across the field, neighs and nickers from horses as those horse carriers park up. None sparing the topless centaur more than a cursory glance and nod of greeting as they pass, missing or ignoring the slight flush on those cheeks. Few could even see the bull in the truck, and he was doing an admirable job of hiding the rather large dildo now freed from the confines of the bag, stepping to the rear of the centaur once more before Fionn has the thought to look back towards his bovine guest.

"There're a few more people arriving... This gonna take much longer?" For now Fionn had been spared from any difficult - given the circumstances - conversation, not knowing any of the arriving competitors. Though, he thought, it was only a matter of- “Aack!” A sudden shove of something into his tail hole brings the centaur’s attention back to his own truck, head shooting round to give a look that’s equal parts surprise, curiosity, and lust. Even if he would hardly admit to that last one.

“Relax. You need to be lithe and limber for your dressage. Especially once you are fully kitted out.” Winston gives the bottle in their paws a squeeze, sending a squirt of its lubricating contents deep into the centaur. Fionn squirms a little at the feeling, the touch of the cool fluid to his insides giving him a sudden urge to shiver. Though he keeps himself from going that far, even as the bull sends a second, third, and fourth spurt of what even the taur recognises can only be lube into his rear.

“Wh.. what do y-you mean, ‘kitted out’?” Seeing as he’s just had enough lube pumped into him that he can practically feel it sloshing round at the slightest twitch Fionn has an inkling of what the bull is doing. But despite that nothing could have prepared him for the sheer size of the toy that they heft in their paws and lay out onto the centaur’s back. Green eyes go wide as the bull adjusts it a little, the outside world completely forgotten. Fionn’s focus is entirely dedicated to the very equine-looking dildo, cast in an admittedly rather pretty mottled design, and complete with a widely flared head that he had immediate concerns about even fitting in. And that’s not even beginning to mention the length; it seems to reach damn near half way along his equine back. Not that he’s about to measure it to make certain, just a look enough to tell him that it’s going to reach deep.“This is your dressage kit. You’ll keep this in until this evening when I’ll remove it for you.” Winston’s tone is the same casual one they’ve maintained throughout, as if he were talking about the weather, not about stretching the centaur’s rear to its limit with the silicon monster in their paws. Monstrous enough that they have to take a step back to properly line the flared head up with that well lubricated horse hole, the centaur's tail having kept lifted throughout. Fionn would argue that it was just instinctive, avoiding the slight drip of lube from his rear. Providing an easy target for Winston to aim at, drawing a reflexive gasp from the centaur when he feels a very sizeable faux cockhead being pressed forward.

"W-wait, I... I don- OOOOOHHH-" Whether Winston didn't hear the centaur's quiet words, or just didn't care to stop, who knows. Either way Fionn finds his speech curtailed by a rather loud moan as his equine pucker suddenly yields and stretches wide, pushed right to its limit by the silicon flare before mercifully managing to contract back down a bit. Even if that does mean that his ring is now holding onto that dildo almost strongly enough to hold the rest of its weight by itself. His unintended exclamation is cut off through the inauspicious approach of slapping his hands over his mouth, face burning bright red for a moment as he crosses his fingers that no-one heard that. Or at the very least, no-one would be interested enough to come and investigate.

For their part Winston seems unaffected by the same concerns that are coursing through the centaur. Perhaps benefiting from being mostly hidden by Fionn’s bulk, or experienced enough to know that people here won’t exactly mind what he’s doing. Maybe he’s just brazen enough to not care. But while the centaur is distracted by the thought of premature discovery the bull is more than happy to take advantage, taking a firm hold of the suitably lengthy dildo and shoving. The bottle of lube that they’d dumped into him makes the onward journey of the silicon surprisingly easy despite its girth, though easy is most definitely relative. Fionn’s attention flicks immediately back from the worry of discovery to that giant flare ploughing a path through his guts, a hand-muffled moan dragged from his lips as it pushes past his prostate.

“Already enjoying yourself, I see. I think they might dock points if that’s out during your performance though.” With a good foot of toy safely nestled into the centaur’s ass Winston can remove one hand to reach down underneath the centaur’s belly. Taking a firm hold of the dropped yet still flaccid equine shaft that had been squeezed out thanks to the pressure on Fionn’s internals, pausing their onwards push to give him a couple of strokes. Sly smirk sent up to the back of the taur’s head as that caress draws another muted groan from Fionn, who slaps his free hand over his mouth-covering one to muffle the sound further.

Letting the equine cock flop free both of the bull’s paws go back to gripping the base of the mottled dildo and pushing. No sudden shove this time but a consistent onwards pressure, letting the steadily increasing width of the toy gradually spread the centaur’s tailhole wider. Not that it has any less of an effect on the centaur; if anything the slow approach just causes him to feel that building pressure against his internals, specifically that oh-so-sensitive prostate, all the more. The toy is barely two thirds in to the equine's greedy rump before his own shaft is hard, signalling its readiness with a firm slap against his belly.

"Enjoying yourself a lot. Do be careful not to go too far too fast, it might make the rest of your day more... difficult." It's not like Winston would be kind enough to remove the toy from Fionn were the centaur to have an unfortunate case of premature ejaculation, and having his shaft undergoing that post-orgasm sensitivity while being kept hard by pressure from his rear? Well, that would be quite exquisite torture for the taur. Quite ignoring the possibility that his little sound of excitement had brought unwanted attention Fionn focuses on his breathing, trying to simultaneously eliminate any thought of the stretching he's getting while also relaxing his entrance open to ease the dildo's passage.

Quite the difficult task to do, though to the centaur's credit he does an admirable job of the latter. Winston had just begun to slow down, encountering a little more resistance getting the last six thick inches past those long-since breached equine gates when the centaur helps them along. With a swift push to the base after feeling a slight lessening of that resistance the bull shoves the rest of that dildo into the taur, entire silicon length minus the faux balls that form the base now nestled within the warmth of centauric guts. Fionn gets a well-earned pat to the rump, regardless of whether the jiggling of his hindquarters and subsequent jostling of the shaft within is actually beneficial.

"I... I'm not sure I can even.. walk, with this in." Having only just had the thing put in it's no surprise that Fionn is a little wobbly, not helped in the slightest by his own stubbornly hard shaft that refuses to shrink down. Keeping one hand on the dildo's base Winston pulls some metal rods from his pocket, clipping them into the appropriate points in the silicon then clicking the semi-circular ends together round the muscular part of the centaur's tail. Both holding that tail up, leaving Fionn's well-stuffed ass on full display, and helping provide a bit of inwards pressure should the taur loosen up during the day.

"You'll get used to it in no time, Fionn." To emphasise the point Winston slaps the centaur’s rump another couple of times, eliciting slight groans from the equine on each. Though it spoke volumes how quiet each sound was, Fionn clearly getting to grips with controlling those feelings from within already. Even his shaft is not quite so hard now, hanging a little looser as the centaur works on his breathing exercise to try and ignore the stretch and calm his body.

It comes as quite the surprise a minute later when the bull claps his paws together, Fionn having done a good enough job of dulling his senses to be startled by the sound. The reflexive shimmy pulls him right back into the moment as it jostles the guest currently occupying his back door and causes the few flaccid inches of equine shaft still dropped to jerk. Fionn gives his guest - the bovine one, not the silicon one - a glare, though it quickly fades back to a more neutral expression. “See, you’re getting better already. High time for you to get some practice in, wouldn’t want any surprises cropping up during your actual performance now.”

The centaur almost - almost - forgets the situation he’s walking out into. There’s a competition’s worth of people out there, or at least there will be. Even now there are already a dozen other vehicles parked, a variety of quadrupedal equines being brought out to mill around. Ranging from the true ferals who are in a class of their own, to the intelligent types. The unicorns, magical horses and the like, make up the next class. Finally the taurs like himself, their shape different enough to warrant separation from the intelligent types. And he was about to walk out there with this massive ass-lodged ‘motivator’ on full display, making it all the way to having a hoof on the ramp before he stops short to give Winston a wide-eyed look. “Are… are you sure about… this?” A hand gestures vaguely towards the centaur’s rump and the forcibly raised tail there, Fionn needing to guess exactly what it looks like back there.

“Oh yes, it’s perfectly acceptable. The rules allow you to use whatever equipment you like. You should know, you read them.” With a smirk Winston lifts one of his paws again, hovering ominously over the centaur’s rump. “So are you going, or do you need some more motivation?”

Fionn is quick to shake his head, turning away from the bull and towards the outside. Taking in a deep breath he steps out, hooves clanging against metal then muffled by grass as the bedildoed centaur leaves his truck. Running that outrageous offer over and over in his head, the promise of that reward helping spur him on to what is sure to be a very memorable weekend.