FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Dennis rolled over in his sleep. The sunlight shone into his window and through his thin curtains, landing on his pillow and eyelids. The resulting light caused the young boy to stir and he snuggled into his pillow for a moment, before slowly opening his eyes and quietly groaning to himself. He was tired, but he knew he had to get up. The smells of cooking in the room beyond told him that his uncle was already awake.

Dennis had moved in with his uncle, Kurt, a year ago. Dennis' parents hadn't exactly been in the best of health themselves, both physically and mentally: they were negligent and dismissive, and that had lead Dennis to go into foster care. From there, he had bounced from home to home until, eventually, one of his family relatives and expressed his wish to look after the child. That man had been his uncle.

The young pit bull rolled out of bed, stretching his chubby, 4 foot 7 inch frame, before he dressed loosely in a pair of pyjamas, consisting of a loose t-shirt with an elastic pair of pants. He made his way across the room, rubbing his eyes, and took a right turn on the landing to head into the bathroom. After a quick tinkle, he made his way into the hallway and towards the kitchen.

There stood his uncle, slaving over a hot frying pan, dressed in the loosest morning slacks he had available. Kurt wasn't necessarily the best Uncle in the world: his fur was shaggy and he shed his coat rather often. The mixtures of brown and white fur getting everywhere often meant that accustoming was a daily chore, but the adult Cocker Spaniel/Poodle mix was always incredibly attentive.

"Morning, kiddo," The canine glanced over to the younger boy as Dennis slipped into a seat at the small kitchen table in their tiny little bungalow. "Breakfast is almost ready."

Dennis had never really had an uncle, or known of one, until he moved in with Kurt. The pitbull was a rather shy boy and often kept to himself, but Kurt's friendly behaviour and incessant need to shower his nephew with gifts and presents had slowly but surely coaxed the young cub out of his shell. Whilst he had once been rather anxious and difficult to talk to, he was now a budding young kid who was becoming more and more outgoing with each passing month.

Kurt slid a plate piled with meat and various other greasy breakfast food in front of the boy, and dished out the appropriate utensils. Kurt grabbed his own place but didn't bother to sit, instead leaning against the counter and holding the place up with a hand, sloppily chewing the food with a fork dangling between his finger and thumb. Dennis had taught himself to be polite when eating, even around his uncle, so his chews were thoughtful and his expression often vacant, but diligent.

"You got any plans for today?" Kurt asked his nephew, and the boy shook his head, briefly glancing down towards his food to spear a rasher of bacon with his fork.

"Why don't you play in the garden for a bit then, whilst I clean up? Then you can watch some TV later. But not too much. Don't want you gettin' weird square eyes." Kurt smirked a little and chewed again. He heard his nephew giggle.

"Uncle Kurt, you can't get square eyes from watching TV. That'd be silly!" The boy replied, the 7 year old attempting to display some level of intelligence.

"How do you know? You maybe have square eyes already." The uncle pointed the fork in the boy's direction, and he saw Dennis's smile fade at the mere thought.

"I'm kidding." The uncle chuckled and placed his empty plate down, having devoured the food in a mere instant. He stepped closer to the boy and stroked his head, petting his short, crisp fur. Dennis seemed to enjoy the touch, but the uncle's hand lingered for perhaps just a little too long. He touched him delicately for a little longer, before he let go and made his way towards the living room.

"Put your plate in the sink when you're done." He called as he left, and he heard the boy reply to him with a simple 'yes'.

Dennis cleared his plate and then retreated back into his room to change. In little to no time at all, he had pulled on a pair of lose shorts and a hoodie, and he stepped outside to play in the back garden, where a football sat on the ground, a net on the far side. The garden was a little cramped, but it was enough for the boy to enjoy himself in his younger years.

Kurt nestled down into the couch and his mind wandered, listening to the background noise of the TV. His hand drifted towards his knee, and then towards his crotch. A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he thought about something rather heinous, and his fingers traced alone the outline of his bulge, hidden away in his loose pants.

Some might call him a predator. He'd call himself a good uncle. At least, he tried to be: it had broken his head to see his sister's child going to waste in foster care because she was too incapable to look after him with her husband. When he had eventually seen him, standing in front of the car on the quiet street, facing his bungalow, his heart had sank. The boy looked so small. So meek.

He had wanted to give him everything, but someone like him didn't have the funds to offer a child the world. Instead, he did the best he could do: little gifts, big birthdays, explosive holidays: he tried his best to coax the boy out of his quiet shell and to make him feel normal. Over time, it had worked. But those feelings of abandonment in the boy's chest had grown into love for his uncle. For Kurt, the aching need to help had twisted into something much darker.

It had started small, at first, and subtle. The glances. The thoughts. He had helped the boy in nearly all activities, in an attempt to teach him independence. The boy had no sense of time, no sense of simple 3-a-day meals, not real knowledge on how to wash himself, to take care of his teeth, or even the parts of his own body. Kurt had had to teach him all of that, with little baby steps. Baths times were the worst for Kurt; he had to monitor the young cub closely, and that meant seeing his body. All of it. That had been the catalyst to his lifestyle now.

He tried to ignore it, but his desire often got the better of him. His hand would linger just a little too long, or his eyes would stare for longer than necessary. Working from home made it all the more difficult: he was a web designer and spent the majority of his time in his office. His nephew would come into the room wearing all manner of clothing, and sometimes barely any at all. The 7 year old pitbull was so delightfully innocent that he didn't care if he was naked or not, especially in the comfort of his own home. However, that just only made Kurt want him more.

Sitting on the couch, drowning himself in the sounds of the TV, he hadn't even realised that his hand was already down his pants. He quickly yanked his hand away and let out a long sigh. He'd done it again. He needed to be in better control of himself.

The canine slowly got to his feet and he stretched his back out, feeling the twitching pulsing of his erection pushing against the inside of his pants. A quick walk was likely to put him off. Dishes were waiting, regardless. With that, he turned and made his way through into the kitchen, able to see the budding young boy from the window, kicking the ball around.

Dennis was a chubby little kid. He always finished his plate and despite the exercise he got every day, he was still a little flabby. Kurt watched him for a moment as he ran the hot water, letting it run into the bottom of the sink and begin to fill. He started to watch the plates as his mind drifted, his eyes searching. The way the cub's body bounced, the way his hips jiggled, the way he giggled and laughed: it was both endearing, and arousing.

After about an hour, the cub came inside, shutting the door behind him. The scent of his sweat and musk was palpable in the air as he sauntered his way through into the living room, sitting himself down next to his uncle. Kurt sniffed the air and felt a swell of blood in his loins. He dismissed it, glancing to the boy.

"When was the last time you had a bath?" The canine asked, and the pitbull sheepishly grinned in response.

"Uh...I can't remember." The boy replied, and Kurt sighed, pinching the bridge of his snout.

"I'd better run you a bath, then. You reek, especially after playing outside." The uncle grumbled, and Dennis pouted, folding his arms.

"Okay." The pitbull resigned to the idea. He didn't like taking baths during the day, but he supposed his uncle had a point in the matter. He twisted his ear at the sound of the running bath and quietly grumbled to himself, fixating his eyes on the TV.

It took barely a few minutes for the bath to be ready. Having bathed the cub at least 3 or 4 times a week like clockwork, Kurt had become an expert at getting the right temperature. This past week had been a little different from the norm: Kurt had been swamped with working on a website that had eaten up the majority of his free hours, and that had meant his care of the boy slipped. Luckily, teaching the boy to be a little independent had paid off in most aspects.

Once it was ready, he made his way back towards the living room and coaxed the boy with a finger. The cub grumbled and followed him, padding down the hallway and into the bathroom, where the steam hung in the air like a thick fog. He unceremoniously began to undress, and Kurt quickly retreated into the boy's room to get him a change of clothes, before grabbing a towel from the cupboard. He returned to the bathroom to find the cub already stark naked. The boy turned to face Kurt, and the older canine stared.

Kurt had always thought the boy's body was perfect, with just the right amount of bed, and the little sheath between his legs. From his cute fat toes to his sagging chest and adorable expression, he was everything that Kurt secretly wanted. The boy looked confused at the canines lingering expression and the man smoothed over the shaggy fur atop his head, chuckling awkwardly. He stepped forwards and gestured, ushering the boy into the bath. He flicked down the lid of the toilet and placed the towel and clothes on top for safekeeping.

"Can you wash me, uncle Kurt?" The boy asked immediately, and Kurt had been expecting it. With a sigh, the older man laid out a towel and spread it across the floor in front of the bath. He knelt down against it and rested his elbows on the edge, briefly reaching over to grab all the necessary items: shampoo, conditioner, and the usual tools like a sponge.

From there, the boy did his usual, shuffling towards until he sat in the middle of the bath, happily playing with his usual bath toys. Kurt nearly always started with his back, pouring water over the cub's fur with a jug and scrubbing some shampoo into his fur. He made sure to lather it up and spread it around, catching every inch of his back. He dug his fingers into the boy's fur and scraped against his skin, making sure to scrub off the dead skin. His hand descended lower until his fingers were grazing under the water, touching against the small of the cub's back. He gulped nervously and clamped his mouth shut as his fingers dipped and he grazed them against the boy's cheeks, or at least when he could get a hold of.

He was like this every time, his touches always lingering, his expression always twisted into one of guilt and delight. Dennis had never understood it, and whilst some of the touches had always been a little peculiar and made him feel strange, he never doubted that Kurt wouldn't hurt him. The man was kind in just about every other aspect, he could just occasionally be weird. The boy eventually leant back for the next step: washing his front.

"You know how to do this yourself, right?" Kurt began cautiously, trying not to cast his glance down, knowing that the boy's little sheath was directly in view.

"But I want you to do it." The boy pouted, and Kurt knew he couldn't say no. With a sigh, he poured water down the cub's front, squirting shampoo into his palm and smearing it over his fur. He stroked and cupped around the cub's neck and trailed his hands down slowly, touching along the boy's fleshy chest and his 'moobs', before stroking across his chubby stomach. He covered every possible angle before his hand dipped lower. The cub's eyes thankfully weren't on him, so Kurt knew Dennis couldn't see his peculiar expression as his fingers traced across the boy's sheath. That was enough for him, the mere touch again making his own sheath swell, his balls aching for release. Lower and lower his hand delved, grazing along the cub's tiny balls, until he found himself cupping them. His fingers rolled them around, feeling the way they moved. His palm pressed against the boy's sheath and for a moment, he felt something: a faint, but notable throb.

He shot his hand back in an instant and felt himself pale, his skin sweaty, his breathing heavy. Dennis looked up him, his eyes wide with surprise, and Kurt cleared his throat, trying to compose himself.

"I just have to go do something. Can you finish? When you're done, just dry yourself off and go watch some TV, alright?"

Dennis nodded anxiously, watching as the man stood and turned away from him, before the boy had a chance to see the obvious bulge in his pants. Kurt strode out of the room and down the hallway, stepping into the kitchen. His safe haven, of sorts.

He pressed a hand to his head and panted, trying to relax. He knew what had happened, what he felt. He knew he'd gone too far. He gritted his teeth and scrunched his eyes. Above all else, he wanted to scream. Why was he like this? Why did he have to be like this? It was growing unbearable, the desire he felt was becoming too much. He reached up to open a small cupboard containing various medicines. He stared at them for a moment, lost in thought.

He'd thought about it. He had a small bottle in there of pills meant to help with sleep; he used them on and off whenever he was too stressed, but he had been weening himself off of them for quite some time now. It had been months since he'd had to use one, but he'd often considered them for Dennis. If the boy fell asleep, then he couldn't feel guilty about doing things to him. Just half a pill would work. He shook his head and looked away. He knew it was wrong. And yet...

He found himself doing it anyway. He turned the bottle over, dropping a pill into his palm. He snapped it in two and poured out a glass of cola, dropping half of it into the glass. He watched it fizz and sink to the bottom, where it dissolved into nothing. He hesitated as his hand closed around the glass. Should he really be doing this? He took a deep breath and made his final decision. He would.

Kurt turned, taking the glass into the living room and setting it on the coffee table that sat between the couch and the TV. He placed a coaster underneath it and then began to lounge on the couch, waiting patiently, his fingers twitching nervously. He was anxious.

Dennis eventually came through. To Kurt's surprised, he hadn't even changed into his clothes. Instead, he wandered through with the towel clung around his waist, and he set his clean clothes on the arm of the couch, presumably wanting to dry off in the simplest way possible. He sat down on the edge of the couch and then reached out, grabbing the glass. Even if the boy hadn't assumed the drink was his, Kurt would have told him to take it anyway. He watched out the corner of his eye as the boy took a few hearty gulps, apparently rather parched. The plan was in motion. Now all Kurt had to do was quietly wait.

It didn't take long. He could visibly watch the progress of the drug in the boy's system, as Dennis moved from an on-the-edge position back towards the back of the couch, where he nestled in pleasantly. Soon, his eyes began to droop. Shortly after, he was completely and utterly asleep. Kurt gave him a few judges against his stomach for good measure, which would have often woken him up. For good measure, Kurt made sure to wiggle the boy's stomach a little more, until he was thoroughly convinced that the drug had taken effect. The boy was out cold, in a deep slumber.

Kurt's hands shook as he did that he would later consider to be the unthinkable. In the living room of his own home, he pried the boy's towel apart the reveal the hidden treasure beneath. His hands danced across the boy's body, touching with his fluffy, slightly damp stomach. Kurt slowly shuffled off of the couch and onto his knees, crawling in front of the boy. His gaze anxiously flicked to the boy's sleeping face and his closed eyes, before he pressed his hands on the cub's knees. Slowly, he began to part them, spreading the boy's legs apart.

He was surprised to find that the boy had at least put on some briefs, and found himself met with the rounded bulge of the cub's package. He pressed his head forwards, trailing his nose and mouth along the cub's inner thigh as he took in the scents and smells of his nephew, the hint of musk mixed with the heavy scent of wet dog. His mouth eventually met with the boy's crotch and a shaky sigh escaped his lips. He wanted more. He pressed his mouth against the bulge and groaned to himself. For the first time in a long time, the cub's package was against his face.

A free hand immediately dipped into his pants and he began to fervently fondle himself as his tongue lolled out, dancing up the cub's damp briefs, licking across the front. The boy shifted in his sleep but didn't make complains or stirring protests about the man's greedy intent. Kurt raised his fingers, hooking into the waistband of the boy's underwear and yanking down the front the reveal his young, thick sheath. He pressed his tongue to the tip, smearing his fleshy appendage against it and feeling the warm, faint throbbing beneath. This was turning the boy on, even in his sleep. Could the cub even get hard? That remained to be seen.

He hooked the briefs under the cub's balls and lowered his head, dragging his wet nose across the damp fur until it met with the crease between the cub's tiny sack and his pudgy sheath. There, the scent of his musk was the most potent, and he took in a deep breath through his nose, catching the mixed scent of sweat and damp. He rolled his tongue against the boy's little balls as his hand furiously masturbating his own pulsing, knotted cock. His breath was hot and heavy, his desire intense. He needed more, but there wasn't much more to give. With the boy asleep, he couldn't do much-- anal was more or less out of the question, giving the cub's tight orifices and the man's thick, pulsing cock. The mere difference in size alone was enough for him to not even consider it. Instead, he had another idea.

He slowly rose, tugging down his loose slacks and letting them fall around his knees. His muscular legs stepped out of his pants and he discarded them nearby, letting his thick, knotted cock twitch mere inches from the boy's face. He could see the cub's nostrils flaring at the scent, but the boy didn't stir from the smell alone. Slowly, Kurt angled the tapering end of his member, smearing it against the boy's lips. He reached out with a free hand to stroke the cub's head, considering the potential of what he could do here. He had a plan, and he'd stick to it.

Kurt wiggled and wormed his cock against the cub's lips and, albeit slowly, the boy's mouth began to open, presumably dreaming about something rather special. As the boy's lips parted, Kurt was careful to slide his cock into the cub's mouth by barely an inch, and no more: he didn't want to risk an accident. To his surprise, the cub's lips began to purse. He felt the brief sting of a tooth against his cock before it backed off. Instead, the boy's warm tongue slowly and lazily rolled around the member. It was accompanied by a few tiny gulps, and Kurt could only assume his nephew thought he was suckling on a lollipop, or some ice cream.

That suited him just fine. The feel of his nephew's warm tongue rolling around his cock was pure heaven. He hadn't jacked off in a number of weeks, and he needed this release. He reached down to his member, stroking the length of his cock that wasn't readily embedded in the boy's mouth, his hands drifting to his knot, giving it a firm squeeze to get him going. A groan escaped his lips as he felt the cub's tongue pushing and rolling against the tapered end of his cock, the point at which his urethra sat. He knew he wasn't going to last long.

Every inch of his body wanted him to thrust, but he knew he shouldn't. It wasn't right. The risks were simply too high, but his lust and desire was simply too overpowering. He pushed his hips forward and a long, groaning sigh escaped his lips, his member sliding deeper into the boy's mouth, until he was beginning to touch with the back of the cub's throat. A stirring in his loins began to form, a tight pressure that coursed through his body and made him tense. His chest began to heave and his cheeks flushed.

Before he knew it, he climaxed. He pulled back a little and groaned, a thick rope of cum shooting from the end of his member into the boy's mouth. He slipped back further and sighed, his cock throbbing mercilessly against his touch as he slipped his member from the cub's mouth, fearing he might be giving him too much. Arcs of thick cum shot across the boy's body, splattering down against his chubby stomach and sagging chest, along his face and cheeks, with the occasional drip down against the cub's crotch. Kurt panted happily at the mere sight and squeezed his cock, coaxing out the last of his juices, the remnants of his orgasm.

His breathing began to slow, and the panic and guilt set in. He knew he'd done a bad thing, but he felt good about it. At least the boy wouldn't find out. He crouched down and ran his mouth across the boy's body, slowly and methodically scooping up the droplets of cum he'd strained the cub's frame with. His tongue ran over the boy's face, along his body and down towards his cock. There, he couldn't help but purse his muzzle around the tip of that sheath again and quietly suckle, lapping his tongue against the little sheath. He felt something similar to a tip prodding his tongue, but decided it was best to not push it. The cub wasn't even into his puberty yet; that sort of thing could wait.

He stepped back and turned, relaxing back on the couch, his cock pulsing against his chest. He glanced across the boy anxiously and sighed. He reached out, stroking the cub's cheek. He loved his nephew. Sometimes a little too much.