FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Go out and meet people," Mother had said, "Don't be such a homebody."

Well, there I was, somehow both alone and surrounded by people. I had no idea what I was doing, other than nursing a drink and trying to identify what exactly the DJ was playing. It was so loud, the thrumming bass making it impossible to really comprehend the music. This also made any attempt at conversation a disaster. Since I had arrived alone, alcohol wasn't an option, so my drink wasn't even keeping me good company.

For a moment I watched the dancers. A young couple of ladies caught my eye, they tails failing provocatively. Their hips moved in sync with the thrum of the bass, lost in carnal display. The fur on their tight bellies shined with sweat, and many around them noticed as they stepped in to grind their hips against each other. They were lost in the moment, and...

I was suddenly acutely aware of how much more attractive they were than me. Most of the other girls had shown up wearing minimal clothing, showing as much fur or scale as they could get away with. I was wearing a big soft sweater to hide my jelly rolls. I know how close to the equator I live, but it was mid autumn and I didn't plan to be cold going home tonight. I guess that line of reasoning lead their wardrobe decisions as well.

I finished the drink in one gulp and decided not to let depression take me. I got to my feet and decided to get out. The bouncer had told me it was a slow night, but that didn't stop me from bumping into three people before making it to the exit. The first two elbowed my shoulder, the third didn't seem so accidental.

I stiffened and turned to see who had groped me. Two men walked away, one a great bull of an elk, the other a painted stallion with a flowing mane. I squinted at them trying to figure out which, but I gave up quickly and moved on. If they had wanted me, they could have talked to me.

Assholes.

I made it by the bouncer again to see he was contending with a long line at this point. I guess I got lucky. A donkey with a cocky grin was possibly having the same thought, albeit with less sarcasm, as the bouncer motioned him inside. He was probably going to buy some floozies a few drinks in hopes they'd sleep with him.

Fucking dickhead.

The parking garage across the street was now full, while I had managed to get onto the first level. My car, the banged up piece of junk that she was, greeted me with warm familiarity. I was so ready to be home, so ready to be done with this mess. I was so ready to sit in front of my computer watching videos of people playing computer games while I ate ice cream and leftover pizza.

I banged my head against my car's trunk. She didn't mind, she loved me.

This was such a bad idea. Why would someone like me find anyone nice at a place like this? Why would I assume I could get over my people fears by surrounding myself with people? Why would I take dating advice from the same person who told me college was a good idea?

I reached for my wallet, where I kept my keys. Gone. I shrieked. I instinctively pulled put my phone to check the time, and considered calling the cops. It was just past eleven and I had 3% battery life. The screen on my phone shut off a little too fast.

I banged my head on my car one more time. She let me know she loved me even though she was upset without physically doing anything. I thought about what might of happened and it dawned on me. That guy hadn't grabbed my ass, he'd grabbed my wallet.

I scampered back to where the bouncer was letting in a small group of bunnies, seven in number. I let them pass before approaching and quickly explained the situation. He stared at me for a long moment before I realized that my long string of vocalizations didn't include any actual words.

"One of your patrons stole my wallet," I tried to say, but the words that came out were, "I lost my stuff."

The bulldog glanced at me, then into the club. There were at least two hundred people in there. The music was loud, and everyone was moving around constantly. My eyes followed his gaze, and when we traded looks again, he shrugged.

"Tough luck," he said, "Shoulda' kept up with it betta'."

I tried to argue, to plead, to force my way in, but instead said, "oh, alright," and dragged my tail back to my car. She grunted as I banged my head into her again. I slunk down to the concrete to wallow in the anguish of self pity and autoloathing.

At that moment, I noticed a man. A painted stallion with broad shoulders and a tight black shirt. He tried opening a car door, failed and moved on to find another car. He tried the key on a van two spaces down from the last car, and failing that tried a small econo-car four spaces later. I tried to figure out a pattern, and concluded I didn't know shit about cars. He had keys, but didn't know what car he was attempting to steal. That was him. He was the pickpocket.

I pulled out my phone to call the cops. No battery. I turned it on, hoping the "emergency calls only" mode was still functional, and was promptly disappointing. Hindsight immediately reminded me to replace my five year old phone with the broken screen.

The stallion, turned to look at me and froze. He looked down at my keys then back at me. I pulled the phone to my ear and tried to act like I was calling the cops. He tensed up and was almost ready to run, but then relaxed. I then noticed I was holding my phone upside down and repeatingly saying "please don't kill me" at various volumes.

The man clicked his hooves jovially on the concrete as he approached. My fur stood on end, but I couldn't find my feet. The man was a giant above me, with lean, handsome muscle and a face that would look rather sexy after a third drink. I put my paw on my car, hoping she wasn't about to leave my life forever.

The man looked my car up and down, noting the poor condition of the bumpers, the missing hub caps, and the scraps across the hull. He looked at the car keys, and frowned. Then his eyes settled on me. His nostrils flared as he came to an idea.

He dangled the keys over my head, "I bet you want these back."

I looked up at him. He could easily do whatever he wanted to me, and there would be little I could do to stop him. His shirt was tight onto his lean chest, showing the shape of his pecks, and his jeans were tight enough to show the shape of his...

"I'll give you a blowjob," I blurted out nervously. I winced as soon as the words were out, but there they were.

"And here I thought you were a dyke," He whinnied, "That's good for a start."

A start?

***

My thoughts were cut short as he unzip his pants, and let his dick flop out of his pants. There was no ceremony, nothing cute or sensual. He just pointed at his shaft and expected me to have a go at it. To my surprise, I did.

He was only half peeking out of his sheath as I wrapped my fingers around him. His warmth and musk clouded my mind as I stroked him. I licked my lips and felt his meaty flesh between my fingers. I wanted this, but I knew how much I shouldn't.

"Well," he grunted, "Go on slut, suck it."

I sighed and considered just letting him mug me, but the smell was too much.

I gripped the base of his shaft, and wrapped my lips around the flare. He tasted of salt, and maybe whiskey. It was sort of savory, and so interesting I needed more. I took as much as I could, stroking the rest with my free hand, savoring every delicious inch of his wonderful meat.

He let a hand slide into my hair, cupping my cranium, rubbing behind my ear as I pulled back, my tongue ticking under his flare. He then forced me back in, bucking into my throat. I gagged, but it didn't stop him from assaulting my throat with his massive member. My jaw stretched wide trying, and failing, to take his full length. He continued for an eternity, giving me more than I could want for a lifetime. I couldn't think, couldn't breath, he was just too much, and I was loving it.

A million miles away I was vaguely aware of the flash of a camera. Someone was taking pictures of this man fucking my face. I heard a girl drunkenly shout encouragement, which only made the stallion buck harder.

He pulled my head back by my hair, leaving me gasping for breath. I stared up at him, unaware ofshriekant in my eyes, the pure desire burning in my loins making it impossible to think of anything but his throbbing cock.

"Fuck her in the ass," that girl shouted.

The stallion raised his eyebrow and gave me a sharp grin.

I may have "I'd sooner let you put a filly in me," but before I had a chance to review my words, he had me over the hood of my car.

He pulled my pants down, the winter air cold against my wet pussy. Another flash of light and a shreik of humor, and I looked over my shoulder. The stallion had his own phone out, not taking pictures, filming video. He pulled aside my tail and pressed his thumb into my butt. I wanted to ask him to stop, but I didn't want whoever would be watching that video later to have another means of identifying me.

I felt his hand move lower, his fingers trailing over my pussy. He spread me open for the camera, and I heard someone whistle nearby. I decided to look away, to not pay attention to his antics, but another man was in front of me. The elk I saw earlier was standing on the opposite side of my car, lining up a shot with his own camera, not a phone, but an actual high quality video camera.

I stared in disbelief at the camera in front of me, as the man behind me slowly guided his shaft into me. I would later find out my face twisted with pleasure, my eyes closed tight, mouth gaping open, glasses barely hanging on. He was so big. No matter how ready I might have been, he had to push it in tantalizingly slow. I felt a moan escape my lips, my chest heaving, my tail swaying.

He grabbed me by my tail and painfully pulled himself further in. I gasped as he hit my cervix, no doubt disappointingly early for him. He pushed a little harder, pressing against my back wall until I could fell his hips against my ass. At this point I was slapping the hood of my car like a submitting wrestler.

"Gods, fuck," I muttered, the mic barely picking it up.

"Come on man," the cameraman urged, "Make her scream."

And he did. He slammed into me with a fervor that took my breath away. Each thrust causing my car to whine as much as me. I couldn't hold in my elation. I stared into the camera, before my eyes rolled back in. My moans were musical, drawing a small audience. With each thrust he filled me utterly, colliding with my cervix and tapping my clit with his fertile balls.

I would later find out I begged him to "make me a mommy." My mind was empty beyond recognizing such dialog. I needed this, I needed his cum, I needed every ounce of his glorious seed. And he gave it to me.

I howled and my mind went completely blank.

A week later I received a message on that social media site I only have a profile on because my mother wanted me on her friend list. I only saw it because it gave me a copy in my email. I didn't recognize the name, or the guy for that matter. It looked like a fake account. The message had no text other than a hyperlink. I was hesitant, not knowing what malware I might be letting in, but I recognized the website.

I watched the video it linked to. I will admit that I touched myself. I will also admit to creating an CrossCrossCross account just to download the video. I will also admit that the first time I watched it I came nearly as hard as when the man fucked me.

Then I noticed the name of the video. "fatass vixen taks cum for parking money" stared me in the face. I suddenly remembered them leaving my wallet with the cash still in it. Technically they weren't wrong. But fatass? Surely I'm not that bad.

There were three comments. "Look guys, that's how you spot a fake orgasm. Nice acting. lol" I laughed breathily and considered leaving a comment. The second one said "What's her name?" and I got a little excited, and had my cursor hovering over the comment button before noticing the third.

I went to take a cold shower.

"what and ugly bitch"