FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Life had been rough on Maxwell. An abundance of low-paying and denigrating porno shoots had done little to whittle down his legendarily bloated self-esteem, but they compounded to make life very difficult. Money had been tight; evictions were a reality of life; his agent and director Desmond had been, as far as he knew, brutally murdered as retribution for a black market porno which failed to materialize. Maxwell was glad he had left that game when he did.

Things had finally begun to look up. Maxwell had a real job, something he detested, but the money was decent and the boss was easily plied with oral sex and other such interoffice relations. The boss being a handsome polar bear with a prominent wedding band didn't hurt, because Maxwell loved to know he was participating in something foul.

With a blank check from the boss, Maxwell was replenishing his effete wardrobe which had dwindled to his last pair of hiphuggers after he'd sold most of his possessions in order to stay fed. It was the bear's explicit instruction to stock up on the sluttiest things he could possibly buy. Did being a married man's boytoy bother Maxwell? The stack of whore clothing in his arms said otherwise.

Moving with a ninja's grace, the whispers of his footsteps masked by the repetitive beat of an unsigned band coming from the overhead speakers, Dong-Ju kept a very close eye on Maxwell. Unapologetically gay and perpetually on the lookout for wide asses and cute faces, he found that his job at such a small and hipster-friendly clothing store attracted quite a few men who fit his definition of sexy.

It wasn't until Dong-Ju wanted to be seen that he was. When Maxwell started to close the door to the changing booth, the tall and lank Pokemon slipped into view fast enough that Maxwell flinched.

"Hello," he said without notable accent. He had worked hard to break his Korean accent and mannerisms. The only thing he hadn't Westernized was his name; he knew that dong meant penis in the American vernacular and enjoyed that far too much to shed it. "I see you have quite a selection there!"

"Ye-e-eah." Maxwell was almost defensive. He rapped his fingers on the frame of the door. "I have an empty wardrobe. Is buying a lot of clothes a crime here?"

Dong laughed, clapping his palms. His long ferret body seemed to sway, pearl fur and lavender accents made mute by a long fishnet top. Maxwell mistook his name tag (HELLO MY NAME IS Dong) for a joke. "Not at all, I just wanted to be sure everything is meeting your expectations. Did you kno-o-ow," he chirruped, nudging the chipmunk back and boxing him into the changing booth, "our booths are extra large? You can easily fit two! Three if you're really friendly."

Maxwell vaguely recognized that the creature was a Pokemon. That wasn't much of a surprise to him. He had been in enough cheaply-produced pieces of pornography starring feral ones that sometimes the errant whiff of his new neighbor's Floatzel was enough to give him inexplicable cold sweats and erections. "Is that so," he said tartly. "Well, you know, as fine as I usually am with random public sex, it's almost eight o'clock and I promised my boss I'd be in his office at nine."

The Pokemon - a Mienshao, lost on Maxwell though this was - smiled knowingly. He took a look at the boyshorts on top of the stack. "New clothes for a new promotion?" He winked and tittered.

"I'm only shopping for myself!"

Dong saw Maxwell's blush and decided it was very cute. He pushed the chipmunk against the wall and rubbed his shoulders with paws which were both soft as befitting a faggot but noticeably strong. Mienshaos were renowned for physical prowess. "I could believe that if it weren't eight o'clock at night. So you're going to go in, ply the boss-man with that big round ass of yours? Saunter up to him in some nice new shorts, pretend not to notice the wedding band on his finger? Hmmm?"

The chipmunk groaned in disgust at the same time as he slid his paws around the Mienshao's slender, long torso. "You must think you're just so clever. What do you want then, Dong?"

"Actually, my name's Dong-Ju," he sweetly corrected, and smiled. "As for what I want, oh, we-e-ell..." Down his paws went and he undid his zipper, opening his fly, thrusting south his trendy black jeans when the way was clear. He wore boxers underneath, terribly plain and gray things but which bore the outline of a fantastically thick cock. "You could kneel down..."

Maxwell, very interested, was grumpy on principle. "And just why should I?"

Dong giggled, sounding insufferably faggoty. "Because I loved your video with the Swampert," he said, draining all color from Maxwell's face in one fell swoop. As the bilious and metallic flavor of mortification rose in Maxwell's throat like acid reflux, Dong nudged the chipmunk onto to his knees and cooed, "Mmm, I thought I recognized you. You have something to do with that foxcoon they found in like eight grocery bags in the park and the river, right?"

Bitchy Maxwell could only grumble. He was somewhat flattered that this person knew who he was - flattered and shocked that anybody could recognize him, considering the graininess of the film and how buried in overly-wet and vaguely fishy snatch his face had been. He pulled down Dong's boxers, baring what a simpler mind (certainly not Maxwell's, not at all) would have thought the reason for Dong's amusing name.

The ferretlike Pokemon was hung with a full eleven inches of meat. It came to a blunt and uncircumcised tip, pierced with a prince albert and squirming with fat blue veins along its bottom and side. Precum as thick as melted candle wax beaded across the silver of the piercing and fell away, landing on the toecap of his own shoe.

"Jesus Christ," Maxwell puffed.

"They don't call me Dong for nothing," said the Mienshao, clearly relishing the chance to say it. He grabbed the back of Maxwell's head, fingers pushing down and threading through the fuzzy rodent's plush hair. He drew Maxwell in, grinding his slim loins against that short snout, coaxing an annoyed grumble from the chipmunk.

Nose in the Pokemon's balls and a stiffening cock grinding against his muzzle, Maxwell groused, "I've never been in any porn. I'm only doing this because I want to."

"Sure."

"I mean it!"

"Right, and my name doesn't mean penis in America." In a grating sing-song, he cooed, "Open u-u-up."

Maxwell sniffed the Mienshao's cock, finding himself aroused by the mustelid richness of his musk. He opened his bitchy mouth with a certain amount of laziness, tongue sagging past a plush jowl, eyes unaffectedly gazing at the Pokemon's navel.

Dong slid forward, entering Maxwell's maw and crooning in his appreciation. His long tail brushed all about the walls and door of the booth, making a whisper as it rubbed around. He kept his dominant grasp on the chipmunk's head as he slid all the way inside. His piercing, sliding just ahead, tweaked on Maxwell's tongue and bumped the opening to the his throat, causing him discomfort and a moment of panic. When Maxwell pushed against the Mienshao's pelvis, the Pokemon pushed back and pulled in at the same time. His thick phallus speared open Maxwell's throat and made him gag and Dong, whom loved that sound, tittered and held fast.

"I'm told the piercing adds quite a lot to oral sex," he purred, leaning over Maxwell as his penis began to bottom out. Snout pointed downward, he rested the top of his head on the wall. "Mmm, your throat! It's so good and tight. And you're drooling so much, feeling all over me... I'd let you have my ass if we had a little more time, but my break ends in five."

Ignoring grumbles and crying eyes from the chipmunk, Dong tugged back his decorated cock until it popped out into Maxwell's mouth. The bottom of his penis dragged along Maxwell's tongue and the chipmunk squirmed, uttering foulness and grievances in equal measure, every word made mushy and unintelligible by the invading object.

Smiling so widely that it was beginning to become a grin, Dong mashed his hips forward again with the unchecked ferocity of the Fighting-type Pokemon he was. His cock drilled into Maxwell's throat and right down into it, gagging the chipmunk, making his eyelids clench and changing a sheen of dew into a trickle of tears.

Maxwell pawed at Dong, trying to leverage the strength he needed to shove the ferret away, but the Pokemon was bigger, heavier, and implacably strong in spite of his slim build. The Mienshao licked his lips and closed his eyes as he began to buck his lanky hips, his flat bottom bobbing as he fucked the chipmunk's face. His heavy balls smacked Maxwell's chin; his pelvis, jutting outward noticeably, beat the hapless rodent's nose.

The horrible, blinding pain of a punch to the nose made Maxwell's watering eyes gush and his ears ring. Splotches of brilliant color burst behind his eyelids, such a flowery splash accompanying each collision of Dong's pelvic bone with Maxwell's nostrils. The chipmunk, with drool running down his chin and balls spanking his throat, bleated and raked his damnably smooth claws down Dong's ass cheeks and the backs of his thighs. He thought in one of those banal inklings which always came in the middle of dangerous situations: what a flat ass. This loser has nothing on me.

"Oh! So very frisky...!" cried Dong, his thin tail managing to fan the smell of musk and sweat which hotboxed in the confines of the changing booth. "And I always thought, watching your movies," he panted, narrow breast rising and falling double-time, "that you'd be passive in bed!"

Maxwell at that particular moment had never hated sex quite so much. He would have gladly put himself under a Swampert's disgustingly sweaty fish snatch again, and stuffing his nose into a Floatzel's musky anus for a paycheck didn't seem like a bad way to live. And regardless, in either of those fringe cases, his nose wasn't (probably) broken and his crying had been solely for emotional reasons. For the first time in his life, Maxwell actually felt like he was being raped.

Lust and the simple fact that he was nailing one of his favorite porn stars left the Mienshao just as excited as he could be. Every buck into the chipmunk's boyish face was hard and rough, each one sending waves of pain through the wide-hipped rodent's snout. He didn't notice the tears or the blood caking into his fur. He heard the groans and whines and mistook them as eager whore moans, and the clawing and pawing was, in his mind, merely Maxwell's fervent adoration of his slender form.

"Yes, ye-e-es, you fucking lo-o-ove it, don't you, slut?" Dong squealed, making Maxwell wonder if he was being addressed or if the Mienshao was chattering to himself. Maxwell had no time to consider it; all he could think of was how horrible his face felt, with the rawness of his throat a whole other story. He felt the blood dripping from his nostrils and mistook it for a runny nose, and Maxwell absolutely hated runny noses. As soon as Dong was done, he wanted a tissue to blow into.

The Mienshao's breast was heaving as if he were running a marathon. The low-hanging fruits of his balls pulled taut, lessening their merciless beating on Maxwell's chin, but his pelvis was still a hard spur of bone right to the nose. He was not tiring, but his muscles were starting to stiffen and his nerve endings all tingled with the perfect feeling of an orgasm. He crooned and groaned, a shudder racing up his spine. He pulled Maxwell in as close as he could, subjecting the rodent's face to one last wet crunch.

Maxwell yelped in pain and sobbed inelegantly around the Pokemon's penis. When he felt the gush of semen down his throat, he experienced a surge of relief and clung to the knowledge that it would be over soon much as a wreck survivor would hold fast to buoyant debris. Overhead, Dong went through his motions, moaning and uttering soft praise to Maxwell. He didn't gyrate, but he held the chipmunk close, keeping the pressure on his bloodied nose.

As Dong slid back, resting his shoulder blades on the opposite wall, Maxwell coughed and swore and pawed delicately at his broken nose, still thinking the blood he felt was only snot.

Dong saw the damage Maxwell's wet, flinching eyes couldn't, and his own eyes popped open wide. "Oh, shit! What the hell happened?" He knelt with his pants still down and tried to look more closely, but Maxwell smacked his paws away and clumsily, foppishly swung a fist at the Mienshao. It went wide as aimed by his teary eyes, but even if it hadn't, the Pokemon reflexively jerked to the side.

Maxwell thrust open the door and left, leaving his clothes, and leaving a trail of tears and blood droplets on the way.