FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Morphtalk by the Blog Dog

By Gideon Kalve Jarvis

Commissioned by Seinfeld 1999

Blogisode 8 Part 1:

You know, sometimes I'm just way too academic for my own good. Comes from hanging around the University all the time, I guess, but really, what can you expect? Even if I need more sleep than a typical morphmale, I need less than a human, and I like to keep my body as well as my mind active.

Activity is probably what defines morphs more than anything else. That includes physical activity. With so few humans left in the world after the whyker plague and its subsequent rounds of wars and conquests, morphs have stepped into yet another field of what was once a human-exclusive endeavor: sports.

This blogisode's going to be another two-parter. This first part's going to be about what sports are pretty much morph-exclusive. I figured that it made sense to start with morph-only sports, since they're the ones we got into first, at least in a professional way. After I've finished a quick writeup of morphsports, and what I know about them (some of it very firsthand), then I'll write the second part about how morphs are moving into what were once human-only sports. The games a society plays are a pretty good gauge of the society itself, its values and drives, so I guess talking about sports is as good a way to let you get a good, close look at what morphs are like, when they're at play.

Research into morph society is minimal at best. There's all sorts of "hard" scientific papers about morphs, stuff ranging from the fields of genetic engineering to psychology, but all of those papers are about how morphs were designed by science. One thing that stands out, by the way, if you ever get a chance to read through some of these papers for yourself, is how little science actually knows about morphs. The artificial wombs and subliminal training devices used to make us originally were designed by unknown persons, and just sort of appeared one day, before being put into steady use. Most of the research done has been on figuring out how to use this equipment, especially how to manipulate the end products created by it, vis-à-vis, morphs. With so little being said about how morphs are like once we're free of the structures of our original military uses, I feel as though I've got a moral duty to share everything I can, about every facet of morph life. I guess you can call me a voice crying in the wilderness.

What got me started thinking about the topic for this particular set of blogisodes was my date a few days ago with Chuck. Chuck's about as much of an English nerd as you could hope to find, and he's really not the kind of guy who likes going to big, noisy sports events. But when Windy, my horsey friend, got two tickets to the dogfights, and offered them to Chuck when he stopped in at Windy's gym for his daily workout, he knew I'd break out the strap-on if he didn't bring them home.

From what I've been able to gather, the very first sport morphs took part in was fighting competitions. A lot of the human handlers and trainers of morphs in military service tended to be the sort of people you'd find in the low end of human society - rednecks, if you'll forgive the term - and when they saw morphs, especially canomorphs like me, being trained to fight, they just couldn't help but want to see what would happen if their trainees got into some real "dog fights." Fortunately, morphs don't usually kill other morphs, unless there's a very real need for it, so the fights didn't turn out as bloody as the original initiators intended, but all the same, the idea took root, and before too long, there were plenty of humans willing to pay to see the underground fights just off of morph-dominated military bases.

Once morphs started to leave the military, the fights spread even more, and since the law is still pretty fuzzy on what morphs can and cannot do, and almost every morph knows how to fight to some degree, the dogfights were about as popular with morphs as with their primarily human spectators, as a way to earn money when wallets were thin and purses tight. I haven't met more than a short handful of morphs who were genuinely greedy, and so it makes sense that when morphs wrote up the rules for their own fighting circuit, they also included rules to make sure all the contestants got a share of the purse, win or lose. Lots of morphs, kept and free alike, got their starting cash from dogfights (the traditional name for morph fighting circuits, even when the combatants aren't canomorphs), and still do. Mostly freemorphs do the fights, since they're the ones who need the money the most, but the sport's a ubiquitous part of all morph society. Heck, even I've done a little bit of dogfighting.

Chuck's telling me I have to share the story I told him about my (very, very brief) stint with dogfighting. See, it was all Red's fault. That naughty vixen can always seem to talk me into just about anything when she gets an idea into her head, and one day, she decided to talk me into doing one of the late-night dogfights. The "special round" ones. Of course, being morphs, there's almost always a sexual component to everything we do, and the special rounds are where we just let loose. Audience members pay a premium, and then get to watch morphs fight in the buff. Unlike regular dogfights, though, the point of the special rounds isn't to beat your opponent senseless. Instead, it's to subdue your opponent, then mount him or her. For femmes like me and Red, strap-on dildos were provided, if we didn't want to ride a beaten male cowgirl-style instead. Not really too dangerous, since I'm on birth control, and morphmales will never rape a femme, ever. Actually, just the thought of being mock-ravished was...well, it was getting me hot, which is probably why Red was able to talk me into coming with her so easily.

So, there I was, oiled up and glistening, my fur sticking to me like a second skin, with Red right by my side, my partner in this special round, her own fur similarly glistening and clinging to her lean, lithe body. We'd both gone into the ring wearing Lycra, but, well, that had to go so that we could oil each other up, right in front of all those eager-eyed watchers. We couldn't spent too much time on the fun bits, but all the same, there were several wolf-whistles when Red spread my butt, ostensibly to oil me up thoroughly, but of course, with Red, there are always ulterior motives.

The guy we were up against - and it was a guy morph, instead of a girl - was one I'd met before, Spike by name. He'd been there for when Caprita got her cherry popped in that morph bar. Two on one didn't seem fair to me at the time, since I was pretty cocky about my ability to fight, and I'd sparred with Red enough times to know that she was no slouch either. Red, though, she kept this wry expression on her face the whole time we were watching that albino pitbull with the tribal-style black tattoos oiling himself up. Not too long after the match started, I learned exactly why.

About six minutes later, I was squealing like a little puppy that's sat on a nail, while Spike took his time plundering my tailhole, right in front of everybody. With my docked dobie tail, there was nothing to hide all the action from everybody's view, and judging from the moans and other noises from the audience (I couldn't see out there that well, of course, because of the bright lights), the show was a good one. After a special round, it's traditional that the loser, of either sex, gets nailed in the butt, and Spike was a stickler for tradition.

Of course, it hadn't taken Spike six whole minutes to take me and Red down. Actually, it had taken him maybe...I'm not sure, actually, but we didn't make it an entire round: that pitbull was good at fighting. Red held out for a little longer, wrapping her arms around Spike's neck while he put me in a basic figure-four, right before he cuffed me with the padded shackles hanging from one side of the ring. All the same, as soon as my wrists and ankles were locked tight, Red didn't have more than a minute-and-a-half before she joined me on all-fours, her fluffy foxtail stuck almost straight up as she presented herself to the victor, probably the most eager spoils of battle I'd ever seen; actually, I was pretty sure she let him win, knowing how greedy for doggy cock that silly vix can be sometimes. What took so much time was Spike just letting loose on our bodies with his tongue. Sure, we'd oiled ourselves up down there, too, but I wasn't going to complain. Mmm, but that male could lick a girl in ways I'd never really thought possible. And he _really_knew how to treat a girl's butt right! I'd guess it's probably because his own is really hot, guys and girls alike keep doing stuff to his, and he's learned from all the experiences. I know I'd been really looking forward to the chance to pound those tight bully buns at least as much as he seemed to love nailing mine.

So there I was, feeling my buns bounce, barely able to see any number of cell phones up and recording all the action from any number of angles, knowing I was about to become a minor Internet sensation...and loving every minute of it. I've watched and rewatched the footage that got uploaded, as well as a few from friends of mine who were working staff that night, and I've got to admit: I was smokin' hot! Watching that smooth pink cock hotdog between my buns, while Spike squeezed them tightly together, is enough by itself to get me tingling every time I review the footage, but when that broad glans of his catches on my tailhole, right at the apex of my tan treasure tail, his hands squeezing and roaming all over my black-furred bottom...yeah, I wasn't fighting him anymore by that point. Actually, Chuck got to reenact the fun after I showed it to him, as my way of making it up to him for taking me to a sporting event.

As much fun as I had, though, it turns out that I got off easy. Red wasn't so lucky...or maybe she was extra-lucky, I'm not sure. When Spike finished up with me, he tossed Red over one shoulder, caveman style, and hauled that wriggly vix out into the "pit" between the audience and the cage where the match took place. Cum still leaking down the backs of my thighs from my twitching tailhole, I got a great view of Red being gangbanged by the six bouncers on duty: big, hefty males, mostly African-based morphtypes, including this broad-shouldered bovid based on Cape Buffalo, and a big white rhino with a free-hanging, uncircumcised cock. I remembered his cock best of all the glistening shafts that plowed my skinny vixy friend because it was free-hanging, like a human's, while most morphcocks retract into a sheath. Heh, sheathes...that's what Red was about then, and for a long, long time to come: a sheath for seven cocks. I've got to admit, if I wasn't so worn out from Spike, I'd have been pretty jealous.

Dogfighting might be the first of the morph sports to have gotten going, but it's not the only one by a long shot. As it turns out, humans like watching competitions of all sorts, even if the competitors aren't human themselves. Anybody who's ever been to a dog or horse racetrack will know this (but more on morph racing next time). Another morph "sport" that I've taken part in is breeding competitions, back when I was a keptmorph myself. Typically, actual breeding doesn't take place right there at the show - that's reserved for afterward, and kept unofficial, to try and maintain the "respectability" of the competitions.

Actually, the shows are more like a cross between an animal show, and a beauty pageant. Only keptmorphs owned, or at least serving, civilians are allowed to enter, and they're required to show off their athletic abilities, various talents, intelligence, and conformation. Preference now is given to morphs of the second and third generation, and there is talk of banning first generation morphs from these competitions entirely. Which makes sense, since a first gen fresh out of a vat is going to be a genetic super-power by default, while those of succeeding generations actually have to show some good breeding. Since morph genes are so well-made, of course, later gen morphs are often just as good as first gen, and a few are even better, but all the same, it's the principle of the thing. There's a lot of prestige to be gained among humans from a win, however minor it might be, at a breeding competition.

Needless to say, as stubborn as I can be sometimes, I didn't do very well at all at the breeding show. When we got to the semi-official "after hours" part of the competition, where I got paired with these twin beagles (don't laugh - beaglemorphs are _thick_where it counts), I did very well indeed, but since I did almost all of that on my own, including getting those twins to make out for me, to get me hot, rather than because of any commands from my then-owner, I lost a lot of points on that count as well.

As more morphs go "free," of course, these breeding competitions are probably going to fade into obscurity, and I can't say that I'm sorry for it. After all, being forced to hold position on all-fours, while strangers poke, prod, and squeeze you everywhere is one of the most humiliating and demeaning things I've had to endure. One of the judges I just know spent way too much time squeezing my butt. Some of my fellow contestants at the time told me that they liked being on display like that, but not me. I guess I can see the appeal, but it's not my fetish, thanks very much.

Most of the rest of morphsports are variations on human sports, to one degree or another. There's a few more lesser morphsports, like freestyle racing, scavenger hunts, and competitions of survival, but they aren't as popular as the two I've already mentioned. Freestyle racing is parkour, but with a morph twist, since morphs have more power and speed and environmental adaptability than humans. Freestyle racing is almost exclusively a morphsport, and that applies to the spectators as well as the contestants. Humans simply couldn't keep up with a freestyle racing morph, not like a morph watcher, and so the sport remains largely unknown outside of morph circles. Scavenger hunts are like the human game, but with a morph's senses used to their fullest extent. Almost all morphs take part in scavenger hunts, at every age of their lives, as a way of having fun while gently competing. Finally, survival competitions are to see who can last the longest on the least in a hostile environment. Sometimes this means leaving urban areas, but as often as not, it can mean abandoning everything except what can be caught or made in the field, and then going into the heart of the decaying urban jungle. As might be expected, only freemorphs take part in such competitions; keptmorphs are considered too valuable as property to risk in such a fashion.

Last but certainly not least, all morphs have a hard time resisting a good game of fetch. I'm honestly not sure why, but there's something about fast-moving objects that can be hunted down and "killed" that is inherently exciting to me. Guess we morphs aren't as civilized as we sometimes claim.

Guess that's all I can think of right now. I'm sure more will come to me if I pursue this line of research. All the same, I get the very real feeling that most of my human readers will be most interested in learning about how morphs fit into the wide, wild world of human sports.

Don't worry: you'll find out all about it next time.