FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Sunset was fast approaching. The rest stop and its diner stood out a mile or so down the highway, like a distant lighthouse. In an hour or so, I hoped to be fast asleep within its neon glow.

Without looking away from the road, my fat fingers gripped the radio as I held it to my chapped jowls. “Breaker-one-nine, breaker-one-nine. This is Dirty Old Bear talking to Blonde Boar. I’m about to stop for the night. Sorry I won’t be around to tell ya a bedtime story.”

A squealing laugh crackled through the noise. “Ten-four. Blonde Boar to Dirty Old Bear, I hear y’all loud and clear, and kindly ask you make sweet love to a cactus before bed. What’s the greasy spoon y’all staying at?”

Chuckling, I peered through the sunlight’s haze to see the signage just off the highway’s exit. A smirk curved up my lips. “Desert Dreams Plaza,” I answered back.

“The pickle park offa I-Forty?” he asked. “Lucky you, Old Bear!”

Multiple laughs were heard on the other side, along with a few snorts and loud whistles. A part of me imagined the faces of the truckers they belonged to, some of whom I’d met, but most of whom remained faraway voices. I was willing to bet a few of them would be shocked I did happen to be a brown bear, and they’d spent a long time thinking it was just a moniker. Quite a couple drivers out there liked pretending to be different species, after all. Ten years of trucking often resulted in rarely meeting fellow travelers face-to-face though. When we did, more by chance than actual planning, it always felt like meeting a casual pen pal for the first time.

The laughter and hollering was soon interrupted by someone. “Clear the channel now, ya bastards!” someone hissed reptilian-like on their end. He cleared his throat. “I repeat, ten-three. This is Georgia Gator. Dirty Old Bear, you made the right call. I got a ten-thirteen from my last stop that there’s a nasty dust storm heading west of your location.”

My forefinger squeezed on the handle’s push to talk switch. “Roger that, Georgia Gator,” I acknowledged. “Thanks for the ten-thirteen!”

“Breaker-one-nine, this is Mormon Whiskey,” called another voice. “Dirty Old Bear, Desert Dreams has got a lotta pretty lot lizards. If ya find one, be sure to look for one that’s got a tramp stamp. Two arrows between the thighs pointing to home. She’s ticklish behind the ears.”

I laughed into the handheld. “Will do, Mormon Whiskey. Going dark now. Over and out.”

Desert Dreams Plaza stood tall and majestic. The dusty-covered, neon-lit lighthouse sat nestled off the diamond interchange, the orange sunset and faraway mountains perfectly backdropped behind it. It seemed heavenly. Dozens of parked semi-truck trailers and transport trucks sat in rows as if it were a fancy dealership. Quite a few still displayed bumper stickers supporting Reagan’s re-election. Others proudly sported crude stickers and cartoon silhouettes of boobs on their mud flaps like mine did.

While I didn’t have heavy cargo to bring with me during the trip, I grew more intimidated by finding no open spots in sight, worried if I’d need to waste more hours and gas to reach the next rest stop. Luckily, I managed to contort my rig and trailer between one truck advertising a retail store and another displaying the newest brand of cola. Only then could I actually exit the driver’s seat and stretch my aching limbs. Finally, I lumbered towards the alluring diner across the lot like my feral kin to a bee hive. I was starving!

The roadside restaurant looked like any other found on the highways. Layers of dust and Americana filled the foyer, leading into a relatively clean dining area. Cigarette smoke and the smell of burnt coffee hung in the air. A few exhausted drivers and an obvious tourists sat hunched over inside their booths, trying to stay awake. Meanwhile, a peppy waitress rushed around the joint with some plates in her paws.

I sat at the counter, well aware of the temptation to fall asleep standing up. The day’s menu stood out on a wall-mounted chalkboard. By the time I finished deciding my order, I waited patiently for the waitress to return by reading the newspaper left abandoned on the counter. I quietly read each headline; claims of devil worship were growing on the East Coast, unemployment was rising, and US Route 66 was being decommissioned. Memories of traveling up and down that iconic road captured my attention, only to be broken by someone stepping in front of me on the other side of the counter. There stood the waitress, a beautiful red vixen in her early thirties, who politely smiled and held up a pencil and notepad.

“Hello and welcome to Desert Dream Diner,” she greeted after poorly hiding a hidden grimace. Likely from my sweaty trucker scent. “Sorry to keep y’all waiting. What can I get ya tonight, sugar?”

“Lemme see,” I answered quickly, eyeing the menu slightly. “Double cheeseburger with extra grilled onions, mushrooms, a slab of bacon, and some pickles with a side of fries. Oh! And no tomatoes.”

The pretty thing scribbled it down without much effort. “Any coffee with that too?”

“Not tonight,” I said with a dismissive wave. “Just a glass of water. Thanks, darling!”

I keenly watched her provide me with that glass of ice water and give my order to the chef’s side of the kitchen. Nature suddenly called though, and I reckoned I could take a quick bathroom break and not have to worry about my dinner getting cold. So, I sat up and made a quick beeline for the men’s bathroom and its only urinal.

Unzipping myself and letting my shaft flop free, I leaned a paw against the cracked tiled wall, inhaling and exhaling with relief. A relishing sigh left my curled lips. I stared up at the blinking fluorescent light and patiently waited for my emptying bladder to finish. The bathroom was awfully quiet. At least, compared to the howling desert wind muffled outside. My vacant mind wandered straight to the thought of sitting back down soon and having my much-needed meal for the night, then returning to my sleeper cab. If I got up early before dawn, I could maybe even search for one of the ‘lot lizards’ for a quickie if I was lucky.

I lazily rubbed an itch on my round belly, just as the yellow stream finally ended. Shaking my cock several times, I let out a grunt and zipped myself up. Just as I was about to lumber over to the sink and wash my paws, perhaps even make myself look presentable for the pretty little waitress, a small noise alerted my ears. It sounded like someone tapping their feet.

“Hm?” I stared directly at the bathroom stall right next to the urinal I’d just used. “What the…Ohh.”

I’d been so focused on draining the snake that I didn’t notice the glory hole. Peeking to my right, I found a circular hole at waist level with its edges smoothed out by duct tape. Three fingers held onto the bottom of the opening, and after quickly glancing down at the floor under the stall, I could see a pair of worn sneakers. Whoever occupied the toilet had a wide stance. A very wide stance. The kind that those in the know easily recognized as an invitation.

The thought of having that double burger and fries after a long ass drive across New Mexico and Arizona didn’t compare to suddenly feeling my dick throb to life. I drooled for something else, and I figured the vixen waiting tables wouldn’t be interested in flirting anyway.

Stroking myself to further hardness, I stepped forward until my cock head disappeared inside the hole. It bobbed and pulsed on the other side. Shuffling echoed from in the stall. A gust of hot air kissed my prick. I recognized the sensation of feeling a cold nose sniffing my rigid length up and down until I shivered and felt it grow even harder. The guy on the other end certainly knew how to tease.

“S-Shit that’s cold…” I muttered. “Mind getting to work, fag? I don’t got all night…”

He cheekily responded by brushing a tongue against the underside.

I gasped, releasing a breathless moan. Then, I gripped the top of the dividing stall with all my strength, snarling out a sigh at feeling a pair of warm, wet, and motivated lips beginning to swallow me. The sensation made me hiss. I arched my back and pressed my stomach to the wall at an angle that allowed my mysterious cocksucker easier access. Seconds later and I could barely think anything coherent, only snarling with gritted teeth. I recognized the mouth as being canine and having an enthusiastic tongue. Was that a small mustache I felt grazing my pubic fur too? Definitely had to be another man, but hey, holes were holes.

I could barely even remember the last time I even got off without the help of my left paw. Not too many ladies wanted to date a dirty old bear in the long-term. However, that didn’t stop me from occasionally getting lucky.

Plenty of slutty muzzles had given me a blowie. Plenty of them had done it in far filthier locations than the men’s bathroom at Desert Dreams Plaza. I didn’t care if it smelled like ancient piss. I disregarded the lack of an air conditioner. I barely even noticed the tiny little black things crawling in different spots along the bathroom’s walls. All my primal brain focused on was the sheer pleasure jolting up and down my aching length.

“Nnnfh! Nnm! F-Fuck, ahhhngh!” I huffed out another string of words before saying aloud, “So fuckin’ g-good—hnhhmmfh! Have—Nfh! We met…ahhh, before?”

The canine slowed his oral skills enough to mutter, “Oh yah, a long time ago…”

My ears perked, only to bloom with blood and grow hotter as I let out more incoherent noises. The only sounds around us were my snarling, haggard breaths and slurping noises echoing from inside the stall. Plus, the slight creaking noises I made while clutching the top of the vandalized stall divider for support. My ears could only focus on the pulsing blood beating in my heart and quivering between those phantom lips. They didn’t compare to a woman’s, but it really got the job done. My erection throbbed freely with each suction, hips bucking repeatedly as my mystery cocksucker swallowed harder, no doubt tasting squirts of bear pre-cum on that slutty tongue of his.

Shit. I was getting close.

I angled my hips yet again and thrusted even faster inside that glory hole, shuddering and biting my lip to suppress a carnal growl that would likely alert anyone coming nearby. The risk of getting caught didn’t register as much though, not when the stall occupant lapped my cock harder, deeper, more eagerly! I trembled and gripped the top of the dividing stall until my knuckles whitened, wincing and grunting at the sensation of my balls slamming repeatedly against the bottom of the opening, breaking a cold sweat.

At long last, I pressed my hips forward one more time.

The stars of delightful euphoria danced across my vision. All the stress and neglected lust of the previous week emptied out. Blood pulsed inside my heated ears and clenching ball sack. Between feeling my white knuckles let go of the stall and hearing my own heartbeat try to keep up with every satisfied pant and grunt made, I didn’t notice two things at first.

One, the mouth’s owner had decided not to swallow my load and instead let me jizz all over the place inside his stall. He’d quit sucking me off too, leaving my spent member suddenly feeling cold in the open air.

And two, the stall door suddenly opened wide. I still heard someone rasping for breath.

“Ohoho, you want round two, eh?” I chuckled, using some paper towels and discarding them to clean myself down there. I stepped around to face the door, opening it wider to see inside. “Sorry, but I might need time…to…to…”

Empty.

The stall was empty.

I stood frozen in place as my flaccid cock stayed limp. My eyes narrowed on the cum stains splattered on the floor, the opposite stall’s graffitied wall, and on the aging toilet. There were absolutely no signs of anybody having been there.

“See?” someone whispered. “I got better from last time…”

I jumped an inch from the floor, eyes wide and darting at, around, and behind the bathroom stalls. “Who the fuck’s there?!” I demanded.

“Still don’t remember?” they continued. “Yah left me behind…”

“Who the fuck’s there?!” I repeated. “Show yourself!”

An arctic shiver went up my rigid back. I gasped upon suddenly feeling someone breathe against the back of my head, and I could utterly feel someone standing close behind me. Close enough for me to recognize…the voice. It was young, charming, once hopeful, and held a Midwestern twang as it gently hissed in my right ear: “Did yah really forget me that easily?”

“Gahh!” I slammed my elbow back and it collided with the opening bathroom door.

“The fuck’s wrong with you, ya bastard?” A scowling tiger in a trucker’s hat stepped aside as I bolted for it. I didn’t see his reaction to the mess I’d left behind as I stormed for the diner’s front entrance, but I did hear, “The hell?! Is this jizz, you sick psycho?!”

The food on my spot looked delicious, but I didn’t sit down. Fuck dinner. Fuck the burger. Fuck a good night’s sleep and fuck regulations about hours on the clock. I fled the diner. Without answering the confused waitress’s calls about my order being ready, I haphazardly zipped my fly back up and ran like hell for the safety of my rig. My heart raced until I could barely breathe.

Every one of my fingers trembled as I tried unlocking the door, only to drop the keys more times than I had my entire life. I was terrified but refused to even think about it. Sweat trickled down my forehead and nearly blinded me as I finally entered the correct key and turned it, yanking the door open wide, and climbing inside for dear fucking life. I didn’t even consider performing a maintenance check on my semi; all I wanted to do was get as far away as possible from that place. I shoved the truck into the correct gear and swerved out of my parked spot, carelessly rolled towards the highway and—

A lone figure stood right next to the diner’s entrance. A canine. A terrier of some sort, but I knew the exact kind deep down. The flickering light near the entrance made it impossible to see his features, but I knew that he was neither a trucker nor a member of the restaurant staff. He looked too young, like a high schooler. He wore a large jacket. As I sped off further onto the main road and sharply went onto the nearest entrance ramp, I could swear that he—no, no, it!—was staring right at me. Not like the confused pedestrian or two giving me the finger for my reckless driving. Those eyes of his glowed green right at me inside my rig.

The sky became a darker shade of midnight, and the receding traffic lights had swallowed up any remaining sunset. I dared not look away from the endless road ahead lest I spot another canine-shaped silhouette on the side of the desolate highway, paw raised in the air.

“Can’t be. Can’t be him!” I tried and failed convincing myself over and over. “Can’t be him. Can’t be that terrier brat! That was nearly…nearly nine…ten? No! It’s not him! Calm down, you stupid fucking bastard. Just…Just reach the next rest stop and go to sleep…”

My racing thoughts clung tightly to whatever weak excuse it could muster up. The cocksucker probably had nimble feet and left the bathroom without me noticing. And without opening the door enough to make it creak. I had likely heard an echo of a conversation from the same dog, laughing with his other freak hooker friends about how he’d gotten me scared stiff.

I let out a weak laugh. Heh, scared stiff. Yeah, that had to be it. It had to be.

Minutes passed. I felt my heaving chest begin to settle down. On instinct, five trembling fingers grasped onto the handheld radio and turned it on. My thumb smashed the solid, almost immovable button of the push-to-talk only after willing it to.

“B-Breaker-one-nine, this is D-Dirty Old Bear,” I murmured. “Anyone there?”

A familiar voice crackled on the other side of my modern string in a cup.

“Ten-four, good buddy. This is Blonde Boar. Weren’t ya going to sleep? Over.”

I squeezed the radio. “G-Got distracted…”

“Ohoho, you did, did you?” he snorted. “Tell me about her. Over.”

“About her?” I questioned, then swiftly added, “O-Over.”

“I assume yer here to brag about a lot lizard, right, Dirty Old Bear? Over.”

A steady calm flooded shaken nerves. I suddenly felt ridiculous, chuckling uneasily.

“Y-Yeah, you could say that. A real beauty,” I replied with a half-truth.

The Blonde Boar squealed out a fit of laughter. “My, my, I’m jealous. What’s she like, good buddy? Can ya describe her for me and everyone listening? Over.”

“She had the works! Uh, she was a…a canine with a great smile. Had a lot to say, if ya know what I mean. She and I had a long, filthy conversation before I had a proper meal. Over.”

“Woohoo,” he whistled. “Lucky guy. Why did you leave him behind?”

I blinked, suddenly no longer smiling.

“Uh, t-ten-two,” I spoke up. “Come again, Blonde Boar. What’d you say? Over?”

Silence. The dark highway stretched for miles ahead in either direction. Soon enough, however, I got a distorted answer from another voice that did not belong to my friend.

“Why did ya leave him behind, Dirty Old Bear?”

I sat paralyzed in my seat, barely gathering the strength to gulp, let alone jam my thumb down again on the push-to-talk switch. “Don’t…Don’t you mean…her?” I corrected.

“No,” came another distorted reply. “This lot lizard. Did yah see him? Was he a…terrier of some kind?”

I didn’t answer, already knowing what it would say next. Instead, I feebly squeezed the switch and hopelessly muttered, “Ten-three, ten-three…Blonde Boar—anyone?”

I stifled a gasp. Was that someone shifting behind me? Was someone in the rig’s cabin? I couldn’t see and dared not to even try. I sat frozen in place, waiting for the nightmare to end.

“A Jack Russell terrier, wasn’t he?” the voice continued, becoming less distorted and more vindictive. “He wore an oversized denim jacket, just like the young man you once met ten years ago. He seemed like a nice boy. He was desperate for a ride and offered yah anything. That anything included raising his tail for you. But when he didn’t do it good enough, yah tossed him out of your truck and left him to die!”

“That’s not fuckin’ true!” I growled, suddenly finding the little courage I had. “That’s not fuckin’ true! I didn’t murder you, goddammit! I left you to fucking walk the rest of the way!”

Something brushed against my right thigh. I flinched but didn’t glance down at the passenger seat, staring instead at the radio and carless stretch of highway. I told myself it had to be the AC tickling my knee fur through the torn holes in my old jeans. It had to be.

“Why did yah leave me behind, left me to walk down the rest of the way, even after I did my best?” the voice grew louder and louder. “I did everything to please you! Yet I wasn’t good enough! You found me, used me, then discarded me in the middle of nowhere along this godforsaken road! I’ve been trapped here, yah know! Just another echo between rest stops. But nI’ve still wandered along these highways, this desert hellscape, looking for you!”

Joyous, maniacal laughter filled my ears. They belonged to several strangers.

A cold paw grasped my leg, coming from the darkness underneath the glove box. Wide green eyes glared at me from within the pitch black. I screamed my lungs out. The truck suddenly swerved wildly as I struggled to regain control, but it was hopeless. I was hopeless.

Bleached white fangs formed a dark smile, glinting up at me. “Now, I found yah!”

***

Everything hurt. My ears rang. Blood gushed from countless wounds.

I woke up on my aching back and squinted up to see a solid dust cloud in the sky overhead. The moon and stars were obscured by gusts of pelting sand. Hot tears boiled down my cheeks and stung each cut, blinding me as I grasped for solid ground. I tried crawling away as far as my body was willing to move. This only resulted in me slamming my palms against sharp glass and rock while feebly wailing for help. Any formed words turned into alphabet soup, however. My teeth and fangs were cracked and crooked as they ground together, gushing with saliva and bitter iron in areas they’d been dislodged.

I blinked the acidic tears away. Through the pain and unbridled fear, I saw him: the Jack Russell terrier sitting patiently inside the passenger seat of what used to be my semi-truck, now twisted and mangled metal. In fast and bloody blinks, he patiently unbuckled himself, stepped down from the rig’s steel corpse, and walked along the ditch towards me. His tail swayed anticipatorily with every forward step, as if he’d been looking forward to this moment for an extraordinarily long time.

I tried moving. Agony spilled out from my wounds too. My ruined maw struggled to form words. I pleaded for mercy. All these years, I thought he’d pick up another tricker willing to fetch him a ride, or that he’d make the rest of his walk home. I thought he truly would! I thought he would!

When I couldn’t move another inch anymore, the Jack Russell terrier knelt in front of me. His viridian eyes studied me like a vulture would carrion. He didn’t smile, only doing so when he looked behind us at the incoming storm. The younger dog let out a forlorn sigh, fishing for something in the denim jacket that covered his knees.

He plucked out a box of cigarettes, plus a used lighter.

My strength waxed and waned. I started to black out, only to be awoken by feeling something solid between my bruised lips. A stick I’d not indulged in for years. The dead dog flicked his lighter, then held it to the end of the cigarette, expressionless as he watched me inhale that hit of faint nicotine.

“W…W…Why?” I sputtered out, at last.

He stared with intense disdain. Then, he softly smiled in the faint glow of the lighter.

“One more pleasure,” he said, flicking it closed. “Before yah begin yer travel south.”

The burning cigarette fell from my lips to the sand underneath me, and I tried screaming again. For him, for anyone, for God. Howling winds transformed into shrieks around us. It grew louder as the phantom terrier stood up straight and vanished into the incoming sandstorm.

The sands of fate swallowed me. Everything went dark. I screamed and screamed forever.