FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

3 A.M., Thursday morning, a thin crescent moon barely drowning out any of the surrounding stars already dimmed by a suffocating city light. Such pristine sneaking conditions were rare, the kind Sly Cooper loved to see for a big break in like a bank or a casino. Flitting across the flat rooftops, head and body low, hook cane held closely, his padded feet barely made a sound. He would spring over the wall of one roof, clearing the deep alley below and continue onto the next building without breaking stride. Tonight's mission was small beans compared to whatever big, sleazy business he could've snuck into a night like this, but Sly was ever the professional. He treated every job like it was the biggest of his career, whether it was cracking the vault of a mob boss or hacking someone's computer.

Tonight wasn't supposed to be difficult, at least Sly didn't think so. He came to the roof of a building on the corner of the block then slowed down and skulked his way to the edge where he could look over into the street. Across was a plain-looking lot, its blue, window-front facade illuminated by the buzzing mercury street lights whose sickly white glow attracted dozens of moths. Decaled on the window in an arcing text was the shop's name: [i]The Conjured Coyote[/i]. Beneath that: [b]Antiques & More![/b]

Bingo. Sly put a finger to his earpiece. “Bentley, you read?"

Static hissed in Sly's ear. “Loud and clear, Sly."

“Awesome. I've got eyes on the shop. I'm on the roof of the building right across from it. Can you get a read?"

“Gimme a sec." A moment of silence as Bentley worked his magic, using a scanning device inside Sly's thigh bag that could read the electronics in almost any building throughout a block's radius. “I'm in."

“Great. What we got?"

“Ahhhh…" Sly could envision Bentley squinting through his inch-thick glasses at the screen and adjusting them. “Not… a lot that I can see. Just standard wiring for lights, a phone line, and Wi-Fi."

“Oh yeah? What about security?"

“Nothing. I don't see anything. I'm double checking…" A moment of silence. “Nope. Nothing. Unless this guy's got something super sophisticated that I can't pick up, this place is totally unprotected. By a system, I mean."

Sly scoffed. “No way. Ain't a single shop in this city that doesn't have some kind of system, unless he's in there on the first floor with a shotgun." That would be unpleasant, but by no means something he hadn't encountered multiple times already.

A deeper, cheerier voice spoke up. “Nothing you can't handle." That was Murray, the team's muscle and get away driver. He was parked with Bentley in a van just a few blocks away, his big, purple hippo body filling the driver's seat, ready at any moment to come veering to Sly's rescue.

Sly appreciated the confidence. “No, but not something I'd like to deal with." He drew upon his cane, holding it at the ready beside him. “I'm going in. I'll keep you boys posted."

“Good luck, Sly," said Bentley.

But the thief was already leaping off the roof. He landed on both feet atop the traffic light pole and darted forward. It sagged beneath his nimble feet before bouncing like a springboard when he launched himself from its end and landed on [i]The Conjured Coyote's[/i] roof. From there he continued at slow skulk with ears tucked against his head to listen for any sounds that might emanate from the building below. Ahead was the back alley which Sly peered down into. The back entrance sat in a great trench of darkness, far away from the streetlights' eerie glow. In one quick, swooping move he dug the hook of his cane into the roof's edge, threw himself over, then careened into the building wall with the hook as his pivot. He squatted against the wall at nearly a 90 degree angle, holding onto the cane with just one paw. His eyes darted both ways down the alley, checking for any company. There was no one. He made the short drop to the alley by jerking the cane up off the roof and landing on his feet.

All happened with nary a sound, and Sly approached the backdoor with his cane at the ready. What he found was not any sophisticated security system like what might've dodged Bentley's detection, but a simple padlock. Sly had to scoff. “You serious? Come on, man. You gotta do better than that."

“What do you see?" Bentley asked.

“Padlock," Sly said. “I'll be past it in a jiffy." Sly reached into his thigh bag and produced a lockpicking kit. He jimmied the arm and the pick into the lock's keyhole, and with just a wiggle and a jerk the thing popped open. Sly took it off and slid it into his bag where he thought he wouldn't forget to put it back on. He pulled off the latch and then opened the door.

[i]Rrrrrrrrrrrrrr…[/i]

The door moaned open to the very widest it needed to be for Sly to slink his lissome frame through. As he stepped through he spotted a light in the corner of his eye, emanating from the doorknob. It faded quickly when he looked at it, but in that brief moment he saw what looked like letters or numbers glowing an amber red inside his closed hand before fading to nothing. [i]What was that?[/i] A chill swept through him, fluffing the fur of his tail and perking his nipples. He shuddered. [i]Does this guy keep the A/C on or something? It's freakin' November, dude.[/i] Cold aside, the shop looked and felt empty of any life. He was in the small back room where boxes loaded with random stuff were stacked high to the ceiling. Sly tiptoed his way out of there and through another door. He shuddered again as that icy chill continued to rattle his flesh, stiffening his fur into a chaotic fluff. His nips stabbed into his sneaking suit painfully, feeling ready to tear through the nylon like it was nothing. He gritted his jaw through another shiver. [i]What the hell is it? It doesn't even feel that cold in here.[/i]

He'd made it to the main floor where all of the shop's antiques and sundries were lined and bundled on shelves and counters. Dark-honed eyes scanned the establishment, seeing nothing but the cash register and the various things for sale. Sly adjusted his grip on the cane. [i]So far, so good. I just gotta find the…[/i] The thought fell flat with a throb down in his nethers. He winced and clenched his jaw. A paw pulled at the fabric hugging his penis to make room for an inexplicably building erection. His nips had hardened into diamonds, making him rub at one and hiss. [i]What the hell is wrong with me?[/i]

Bentley chimed in. “Sly, you see anything? You aren't moving."

“Yeah, yeah. I'm in," he whispered. “No one's here. I just…" His paw went to the other pec to assuage its raging teat into relaxing. No such luck, and with every small bit of contact came bites of pleasure which tacked onto the growth of his boner. It was stretched into the crotch of his sneaking suit with enough size and firmness to impress the shape of his cockhead onto it. The hand groping his tit went down to choke it into submission, finding the pole flesh to be hard like rock, pulsing at its core with excited, oxygenated blood. An involuntary clench of his floor muscle puckered his tailhole and flexed his cock. It wasn't the cold making him shiver and perk up like this. This was something else. His cheeks turned blood red. “God… I'm on fire in here. Whooo…" Without thinking he dropped his cane. It hit the floor with a terribly loud clatter that would've certainly betrayed his position. He didn't care. All he could feel or think about was that swelling, swelling arousal which burdened his pecker and made both his nipples hard like diamond. One paw choked his penis through his suit while the other ran a tight orbit around his teat. His eyes floated behind half-closed lids and his jaw hung dumbly. “Uhhhhhhhhhh… What-? Why am I…?"

“Sly! Are you OK? What's happening?" Bentley demanded. “Sly, you gotta get out of there!"

Sly gritted his jaw. The urge to choke his cock into an orgasm rang loudly in his ears, louder than his partner's voice. “Fuck… It's come kind of magic. Oh God. I gotta…"

“Sly! Get out of there, NOW!"

Bentley's voice was but a distant murmur behind the deafening thrum of arousal. The store doubled and blurred in front of Sly. “Fuck… I think… I gotta…" His eyes rolled upwards. He was unconscious before his knees hit the floor.

[center]* * *[/center]

“[i]Snrk-guhhhh![/i]" Sly jerked awake to the spit in his throat choking him. His body rattled on the floor with a few heaving coughs. Warm slobber ran down his cheek and pooled onto the tiles next to his head. Through the warped gloss of tears he recognized the roof of [i]The Conjured Coyote.[/i] The lights were still off, but the store was illuminated by a bright morning sun. Sly looked around, panicked and confused. [i]I'm still here? What the hell happened?[/i]

His nose caught wind of something. [i]Snf-snf-sniff.[/i] “Ah, God. What..?" Musty, metallic, raw, it singed his nostril hairs and clung to the back of his throat. [i]It smells like…[/i] Sly sat up with a groan, popping the vertebrae in his back. “Ughhh… What is that?" Before he could discover the answer there was a very sudden ache in his penis that made him wince and hiss. He looked down and was shocked by the sight of a navy blue leotard which clung to his skin like shrinkwrap. He gasped. “What on Earth is this!?"

More egregious was the massive jut of his penis. It was fully erect, towering from his crotch to bisect his pelvis and sit with the tip just below his navel. The nylon thinned around its cylindrical contours, that heavy cockmuscle running down the middle and pulsing angrily. There was a big, red heart printed over the crotch. Inside it was his logo, a stylized image of his face. A huge splotch of precum built after a whole night of throbbing and leaking had rendered that part of the leotard translucent, letting him see the topography of his abs and the upper quadrant of his dick with that single snake eye peeking up at him sardonically. A terrified screech exploded through the silent store. “WHAT!?"

Sly scampered to his feet. Looking down he saw the shoes of his sneaking suit still on his feet and his leg pouch still attached. A quick pat on his scalp revealed that his hat was still there too, so were his gloves and the earpiece. There was something else attached to his wrist. It was a heart-shaped smartwatch, big, red, and gaudy. He tried turning it on and interacting with it, but it appeared dead. Where the hell did this stuff come from? More importantly, who the hell had put it on him? [i]That damned coyote cursed this place. I gotta get out now. [/i]

He could at least try getting decent first. First his erection had to die down. His nipples were still hard too, looking like a pair of punctuation marks on his chest. [i]No, this isn't going away anytime soon. I've been cursed. Dammit.[/i] He pulled at the precum-soaked nylon that clung to his dick, oiling his fingertips with the greasy sex product. The fabric did not lift from his pecker; it was like a vacuum seal. What he had managed to pinch lifted with his fingers and dragged the nylon against his hypersensitive shaft. At once there was a burst of pleasure, one so powerful that it blew through his legs and crumpled his knees. His jaw shot open and let loose a pathetic sound. “[i]Nyuhhh…[/i]" His coontail rattled up into a fluff behind him and started vibrating. The pleasure did not die down even after he was forced to let go of the fabric. His member pulsed harder. Another glob of molten silk globbed from his cock slit, building upon the great sticky reservoir squelching around his tummy and pubis. He stood at an awkward stoop, cringing as the joyous pulse in his cock and balls ebbed into a low ache.

His teeth sank into his lip. “[i]Fffffffffffggghhhhhh…[/i] Huhhhh… What the helllllll…" His balls were a special kind of heavy, feeling like they would sink out of his scrotum and crash onto the floor below. Sly placed a timid paw back on his cock. More pleasure, more gasps. “Fuck!" But his paw didn't move this time. He wasn't about to let himself back into that pit of blue balls. His fingers closed to the shape of his penis and slicked themselves on the permeated precum. He choked out some more of it and felt the muscle throb impatiently. “Hyuhhhh…"

Before he knew what he was doing he began stroking himself through the leotard. His jaw hung stupidly and his eyes uncoupled through the gloss of dopamine surging through him with each jerk and grope. “Fuhhhhhhhhhh~" His knees were half bent, his spine at a slope, tail craning behind him and shivering. His own product acted as lube, earning him a rapid pace of tugs that soon had his paw in a blur. [i]Fup-fup-fup-fup-fup-fup-[/i] The silent shop was now full of his whimpers and pants. There was the wet and meaty sound of his prenut-glazed balls bouncing inside the crotch of the leotard. [i]More. More. More. So close.[/i] He was at his peak. “[i]Huhhh! Huhhhh! HUHHHHHHHH-![/i]"

“Sly! Sly, do you read?"

The voice ripped him out of his pleasure like a bad tooth. He choked the last moan and pulled his paw off his dick, leaving him to teeter and then plummet off what was about to be the greatest orgasm he'd ever had. Bentley was in his ear, begging his confirmation. Sly coughed and sputtered while his balls resumed their awful blue shade. He was forced to grit his teeth and hit the responder. “[i]Ahem![/i] Yes! Bentley! It's me. Sly. I'm here. I'm… I'm alright."

There was a tremendous sigh of relief from Bentley and Murray in the background. “Oh, thank GOD. We thought we lost you there, buddy. You went dark on us last night and we couldn't reach you. You blipped off my radar. We tried breaking in but we couldn't find a way. We even tried breaking the windows, but they were totally solid."

“I was ready to drive right through the front door!" chimed Murray. “But we couldn't see you inside. We thought they might've taken you somewhere."

“Where are you?" Bentley asked.

Sly was flattered by their desperation to save him. “Ahh, I'm back in the Coyote. I, uhh… I've got most of my gear with me." He looked around. “Except for my cane, and my sneaking suit. Whoever grabbed me, they, uhh… put me in something new."

“New? What is it?" Bentley asked.

“Its, uhhh, well…" Sly was cut off by the sight of someone walking down the street right in front of the store. He jolted and scurried over behind the register counter to hide. “Forget about it. Just come over to the Coyote as fast as you can. I'm all alone over here."

“We're on our way!" hollered Murray.

“We'll keep you updated," said Bentley. Then the earpiece went silent, and Sly was left alone again.

He stayed squatted behind the counter, afraid that he would hear the front door bell rattle. His testes were still like lead, not begging but demanding the release they had so cruelly been denied. Sly knew better than to touch himself or try and remove the leotard again. He would have to wait for the guys to extract him and figure out what the hell was going on. Dull shadows passed the wall behind him, choking him with the anxiety that someone would come in, be it an innocent customer or the owner. He wanted nothing more than to sneak out through the back door into the alley, but feared what passing that barrier again would do to him. His cock throbbed hard. [i]Hurry up, you guys![/i]

One eternity later he heard Bentley's voice. “Alright! We're out front. Do you want us to come around back?"

“No," Sly grunted through a clenched jaw. “It's too dangerous that way. I… I'll have to come out the front."

“Alright. We're right here. Van door's open."

Sly took a deep breath. [i]Alright. Here we go.[/i] Sly stood up slowly, cringing and whimpering through the great wave of delight that scythed up his pecker. He saw Murray's van parked on the curb in front of the shop. The side door was slid open with Bentley standing there squinting to see if he could find Sly. He saw the hobbled raccoon shuffle his way out from behind the counter and waved excitedly. His smile vanished once he noticed how slowly the normally agile Sly was moving. Sly came with his forearm across his brutally tough nipples. The other paw was clutching at his stomach to keep him from plummeting off the edge and into the chasm of ecstasy. [i]One step at a time. One step at a time.[/i] Sweat began to pour off him, further staining the leotard's crotch and the pits. It added to the coppery stench of his fluids now saturating the whole store. [i]Don't cum. Don't cum. Don't cum. One step at a time.[/i] “Hrrrrnnggghhh….." [i]Don't fucking cum![/i]

Bentley hopped out of the van and tried opening the door but it was locked. He banged his fist on the glass. When he spoke into the receiver Sly heard him both in his ear and through the glass. “Sly! You OK?"

Sly just shook his head. He couldn't muster a coherent word through the teeth-shattering clench of his jaw. [i]Fuck. I'm going to have to pick the lock.[/i] He came to a stop in front of the door. While he reached for his leg bag Bentley was getting his first good look at his partner's condition. Raging boner, huge precum stain, drenched in sweat, wearing that goofy leotard. Who could've done this? How could they have done this?

Sly felt Bentley's gaze while bending over to the side like a straw, trying hard not to bend at the waist lest his pecker suffer further friction against the nylon. His leg bag felt especially far away. He tickled the flap with his fingers and aggressively ripped it open. “[i]Nyuh~![/i]" A surge of pleasure, right to the precipice. He stayed curved over like that with an ugly look on his face, waiting for the pleasure to fade.

Bentley mistook it for agony and pounded his fist on the door again. “Sly! What is it?"

“[i]Shut the fuck up![/i]" His outburst was deafening in the empty store. He looked and saw his best friend recoiling away with a hurt look on his face. “Sorry. Sorry. God, I… Sorry." Sly got his paw in the bag and pulled out the lockpick. “Oh, thank you, thank you." His paws were shaky and his legs were like rubber, but he was able to slip the pick in and jimmy the door unlocked. He didn't hesitate to shove it open, nearly swinging it into Bentley.

“Sly!" Bentley held the door open. He was ready to offer a hand, but hesitated at the sight of all that icky sex product. The smell hit him like a punch to the nose, crinkling his whole face. “Geez, Sly. What did they do to you?"

“I don't know…" wheezed the raccoon. “Let's just get the fuck out of here."

“Yeah," said Bentley, opening the door further for his beleaguered friend. “Let's do that."

It was a very short walk from the door to the van where Sly saw his friend Murray leaning out of his seat and watching. Sly couldn't meet his gaze, instead looking down with mortified shame as he dragged his sweating, sex-lathered self across the sidewalk. He didn't know how many people were on the sidewalk with him, and he didn't want to know. His forearm remained tight across his chest, feeling those two chest bullets poking him in the skin. Bentley was sure to stay close on his left and sidestep along so that his broad turtle shell would partly shield his friend from prying eyes. It had taken him only a few shuffling strides, but Sly made it to the van. He was safe at last, although he was afraid of what might happen when he lifted his-

[i]Ding![/i]

The sound came from Sly's wrist. It went off at the exact moment his paw- the one that was gripping his stomach -grabbed onto the van door to keep steady. He looked and saw that the heartwatch had come to life with a message on the screen. His curiosity was piqued, but he was determined to get into the van first. Common sense said get some privacy and then see what the message was. Instead Sly let go of the van, snapped to attention, then lifted his wrist to read what the message said:

HAIGURE

The word fell out of him with all the perfect inflection and accent of a native Japanese. “Haigure!"

Bentley and Murry both jumped at the sudden exclamation. “What?" asked Bentley.

Sly didn't answer. His posture dipped at the knees into a wide stance with both paws knifing down towards his crotch in a sudden [i]suck on this[/i] gesture. They slanted upwards in line with his pelvis at the same time his hips jutted forwards to perform a fluid and powerful hump. “Haigure!" he said again, exactly as before, as if replaying a recording.

It was all involuntary. Every muscle, from his clenching glutes to his flexing triceps, moved without a fraction of his input as if severed from conscious thought, the mind a headquarters detached from the spasming machinery. Bentley recoiled away from his spontaneously thrusting friend. Murray, still in the driver's seat, leaned away until his shoulder was pressed into the door. “Sly! What the [i]hell[/i] are you doing?"

Sly would've liked to know too. “Haigure! Haigure! I-! Haigure!" The bizarre word, one Sly had never heard before, would bleat out of him with the same robotic exactness everytime his rebellious hips would come thrusting upwards. His breath was not his own either, refilling after each iteration and nigh forbidding any speak between. “Haigure! I-! Haigure! FUCK! I- Haigure! Uhhhhh! Haigure! I CAN'T-! Haigure! -STOP!" His feet backed away from the van while still executing the 'dance'. “[i]I'm not-![/i] Haigure! [i]-doing this![/i] Haigure! [i]I swear to God![/i] Haigure!"

His panicked screams caught the attention of passersby on the street. Some went the other way, but most peered or came running over to see what the commotion was. Maybe it was an emergency. Maybe someone was hurt. Maybe someone needed help. It was definitely an emergency, and Sly most certainly needed help, but he wasn't in any pain. No, what tore through him as he came gyrating his way from the side of the van and out into the street was the white-hot delight of an approaching orgasm. A terrified Sly watched more than experienced his forced hump-march out onto the street, his raging boner leading the way. A pitifully contorted and badly blushing face failed to match the casual lip read of “Haigure!". People came to an abrupt halt. When they had heard screams, this wasn't what they were expecting.

Bentley followed him, pleading. “[i]Sly![/i] Cut this shit out now!"

Murray was watching from the door window. “Yeah, man! Stop! You're acting crazy!"

The sweat dripped off Sly's chin and his spiked fur. He came to a stop at the very center of the street, Haigure'ing like crazy. “Haigure! [i]It's not-![/i] Haigure! [i]-me! Help![/i] Haigure! [i]I can't-[/i] Haigure! Oh fuck. Haigure! Hahhhhhhh~!" His eyes rolled up into his head upon the grand swell of ecstasy. Between the Haigure's was his mouth set into a blissful O-shape. “FUCK! Haigure! I CAN'T-! Haigure! [i]HUHHHHHH~!!![/i] [i]Haigure![/i]" The precision of that last Haigure cracked under the weight of his climax, then at its most heavenly apex. Sly came hard, the tip of his cock head disappearing behind a huge splash of molten ivory which blossomed and splotched between his tummy and the leotard. “Haigure! [i]HYEEEUUU-[/i] Haigure! -[i]UUUUUuuuueeehhhhh~~~!!![/i]"

His two friends and everyone else witnessing all cringed away with revulsion. Some had captured it on their phones with not an angle of his worst moment going unseen. His clenching glutes, cutting arms, thrusting hips, and most importantly, his spewing cock. There was laughter amongst shouts of disgust and outrage.

“Come on, dude!"

“What the fuck are you DOING?"

“You fucking pervert!"

“Hahahahaha! Look at him!"

“Nice cock, freak!"

“Do it again!"

“SICKO!"

The tears started flowing. “Haigure! [i]I'm sorry![/i] Haigure! [i]Oh God! I-![/i] Haigure! [i]Huhhhhh![/i] Hiagure!" He was still reeling from the aftershock of his ejaculation. It was all congealed around his tummy, audibly squelching and squishing with each hump. The smell was worse now, reaching the noses of those closest and making them take a step back or two. Not even his best friend, Bentley, could stand to be close now that he was so thoroughly doused in his own nut.

It wasn't over. The 'dance', if it could even be called that, did not slow down even after it felt like he had completely drained his balls. There was physical relief, but also the strain on his cock muscle as it refused to go soft. A severe throbbing brought about a terrible discomfort bordering on pain. It was joined but not overpowered by a resurgent pleasure already on its way towards a second climax. “Haigure! [i]Noooo![/i] Haigure! [i]Huhhhhh![/i] Haigure! [i]Not-![/i] Haigure! [i]Again![/i] Haigure! [i]Huhhhh![/i] Haigure! [i]HUHHHHHHH~~~!!![/i]" Another orgasm, sharper in clarity and intensity, enough to shudder the muscles so dedicated to his dance moves. It added to what had already spewed out of him. That great big pool of musky nectar was beginning to seep out the crotch of his leotard and into the open where it started to dry on his fur. Still, his erection did not fade, nor did this awful charade slow. “Haigure! [i]Ohhhhh…[/i] Haigure! [i]Please, help-[/i] Haigure! [i]-me… [/i]Haigure! [i]Make it-[/i] Haigure! [i]-stop.[/i]"

Then he heard the rapid approach of a car from behind him. It veered to a stop. The door opened and he heard a familiar voice. “Sly?"

Sly's heart was already broken under the weight of shame and humiliation, but hearing his name pulverized it into dust. He wanted to die right there, to run away and never be seen again, but whatever cruel magic held him captive was not so merciful. He was forced to turn around and see the face of Carmelita, the beautiful vixen and dedicated INTERPOL officer whom he loved. Overt disgust twisted her pretty features which she kept framed with bountiful, deep blue hair. A trim, athletic trunk was kept mostly bare by a cropped top and tan leather jacket. Sly felt the stab of dread from seeing her as well as a pulse of delight from that deliciously exposed length of cleavage. “Haigure! Carmelita!" he shouted. “Haigure! [i]Please![/i] Haigure! [i]It's not-![/i] Haigure! [i]-what it looks-[/i] Haigure! Huhhhhh! Haigure! [i]Oh fuck~[/i]"

Her disgust crinkled into pure wrath. “[i]Sly! What in the fuck are you doing!?[/i]" She slammed her car door shut and came charging straight at him, those heavy heeled boots clomping along the way. “Stop that this instant!"

Bentley tried speaking up. “Carmelita! He's not-!"

He was silenced by a curt point of her finger. “Shut it! Everyone stay back!" She directed her anger back at Sly. “And you, will you fucking stop?"

How he wished he could. “Haigure! [i]Please![/i] Haigure! [i]I'm trying![/i] Haigure! [i]It's a-![/i] Haigure! [i]Ohhhhhh…[/i] Haigure!" His head swooned back with eyes listing behind fluttering lids. When not shouting Haigure, his jaw was slung into a brazen look of pure ecstasy as his third eruption neared.

“STOP!" roared Carmelita. She drew from her belt and aimed a bright yellow taser at him. The laser drilled Sly center mass, barely wavering behind her deadly aim. “I'm giving you three goddamn seconds!"

In that amount of time Sly would cum. “Haigure! [i]Carmelita![/i] Haigure! [i]Huhhhh…[/i] Haigure! [i]Please![/i] Haigure!"

Bentley ran at her, arm outstretched. “NO! DON'T!"

She pulled the trigger. Two prongs spewed forth like the strike of a cobra, landing astride that red dot on Sly's chest and poking through the nylon, his fur, and into the skin. There was an awful rattling sound and the clatter of ejected plastic hitting the asphalt. Poor Sly was mid-Haigure when his upwards slicing paws were jerked up to his chest in a pair of decorticate zombie claws. All the ecstasy in his expression was peeled back into a cartoonish bulge and grit as every muscle went into a tight spasm all at once. His coontail shot up into a diagonal floof, then he went timbering backwards onto the road.

“[i]Carmelita![/i]" screamed Bentley.

She didn't hear him, not over the uproarious laughter the surrounding crowd let out upon Sly's downfall. She approached his twittering body and released the trigger. The rattling current came to an end and with it Sly's painful spasming. Ding! A message on his watch. His hips thrusted into the air, cock bulging, its core muscle contracting visibly. “[i]HYEEEUUUUUUUUU-

UUUUUUGGGGHHHHH~~~!!![/i]" His final orgasm piddled out of him, its measly volume belying the raw, muscle-tearing pleasure it blew through him with. It zipped through the aching aftermath of being tased, the pain and humiliation of which still stung bitterly.

“Oh, fuck me!" groaned a disgusted Carmelita. She bent over and silenced him with a heavy slap across the face. Sly cowered to the side and covered his afflicted cheek. Free from the curse, he was allowed to shrivel into a ball and whimper to himself in Carmelita's shadow. She scoffed. “Fucking pathetic."

Sly was forcibly rolled onto his stomach and put in cuffs. Once pulled to his feet he was marched to Carmelita's car to the applause of the crowd. Bentley followed not far behind, promising Sly he would post bail for him. Carmelita snapped at him again, and he was forced to retreat to the van. A weeping Sly was shoved into the backseat and driven off. At last, the street was calm and everyone who had witnessed the debacle began to disperse.

That was except for one fellow not outside, but on the second floor of [i]The Conjured Coyote[/i]. He was at the window, wearing only a Hawaiian shirt. In one paw was his erect cock which he jerked furiously. His head was lolled back, the most devious grin parted around sharp, sinister teeth and a lolling tongue. He huffed, puffed, and grunted through the pleasure until… “[i]Hrrrngh~![/i]" His crimson dog cock spat out several thin ropes of jizzum onto the window, staining the exact spot through which he had seen Sly tumble over backwards and cum for the last time. His knot exploded at the root while his plump, blonde buttocks clenched away a few sporadic humps. “[i]Awwwwwwwww yeaaaaaahhhh~[/i]" hooted the coyote.

His orgasm petered into a thickish drool. He let go of his cock, baring the wormy vein which meandered his shaft like a river. Panting hard, he looked down at the phone in his other paw. It was open to the messenger app. THIEF was the name of his recipient. There were only two messages:

HAIGURE

Then, a few minutes later:

CUM

A longer message had been sent between them, one that warned a particular vixen about some pervert acting strange nearby who needed arresting. The coyote looked at his cum oozing down the window pane and cackled to himself. “Man, I love thieves."

[center][b]THE END[/b][/center]