FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Barnaby stumbled out of the restroom into the hall. His button down shirt was half-tucked and his slacks showed a few splashes from spilled drinks. The mouse took a moment to regain his balance, standing as though he was on a boat that had just been struck by a wave. He dragged a bare paw across the top of his head, and then started to walk back into the office.

The party for the whole floor of the cubicle farm had gotten a bit rowdy since Susan from accounting decided to bring hard liquor. As such the wobbly white mouse was hardly the only disheveled partier. Loud chatter poured forth the moment the door into the wing of the floor the party was being held on was pulled open. Barnaby strode through, looking up towards the majority of his coworkers.

The catering tray was nearly bare by this point in the night, and streamers from party poppers were strewn about or half-crushed. The party lights added to the chaotic scene, but the mouse only had eyes on one person now.

Standing up against a wall, chatting idly with a similarly tall maned wolf, was a handsome stallion, martini glass lazily held with the stem between two of his thick fingers, which cupped the body. His dress shirt was almost always slightly too tight across the chest, the strain of his buttons hidden behind a tie. Similarly the fabric around his arms was nearly always taut, like he was threatening to flex right out of the tailored clothing. But all that was secondary to the way that his slacks seemed particularly devised solely to highlight two things.

These two things were directly at Barnaby's eye level whenever both of them were standing at the same time. There was one on the left, and the other on the right, and the mouse desperately wanted to shove his face between them. In his current position, Barnaby couldn't see more than one cheek, but he knew that the powerful equine rump was there, hiding, waiting to be discovered. The mouse staggered to his desk, and tugged the drawer open. There was a small tin of hair wax that he usually used to keep his whiskers from going every which way and prevent his fur from sticking every which way.

In his drunken grasping, he scooped up far more than usual, starting to stroke and rub it over his face and the top of his head. His grooming went on for a while, as his uncoordinated strokes had to be redone over and over. By the time he finished, peering into the small mirror he kept with the tin, he looked almost wet, fur matted down and smoothed back, along with his whiskers plastered to his cheeks. He fixed the tuck of his shirt, adjusted his tie, and let out a vodka scented breath, stepping back out of his cubicle.

Phillip had turned in the time the mouse was fixing himself up, and the straining slacks were pointed directly the way of his inebriated onlooker. The tail flicked, and even hiked up slightly.

Barnaby shuddered, and started to make his way the rest of the way through the party towards his prize. A few near-misses with other partiers slowed him down, but he arrived just as the maned wolf the horse had been speaking with strode off to mingle. He cleared his throat, and perhaps louder than he meant to in response to the blaring music. "So, I was wondering if a mouse such as myself could get my 'Phil' of your company tonight."

At least that was what he attempted to say. His actual words, slurred as they were, came out thusly: "Sai wonder mouse, myself could fill your company night."

The statuesque horse looked down his nose at the sodden mouse, face unreadable for the moment.

Seemingly unaware of the lack of response, Barnaby attempted to continue with "At my height I get to spend a lot of my time admiring your platonic ideal of a perfect ass." Unfortunately, his words sounded more like "At might getta spend an olive mai tai mired in your play tonic ovum perfect ass."

Taking a swig from his drink, Phillip spent a couple seconds inscrutably examining the inebriated mouse, before a smirk pulled up the side of his cheek. "Oh, please. Go on."

Enthused, the rodent jittered, nearly losing his balance as he leaned backwards to meet the horse's eyes. He wracked his sloppy brain for an elegant way to ask to engage in analingus with the beautiful specimen of masculinity before him. The words that escaped his lips were. "I wanna eat that ass like Christmas Dinner!"

Patiently, the horse watched the mouse come up with that, his somehow most coherent come-on of the night. His smirk spread into a grin. "Sure. Follow me." He turned, and started to walk.

Barnaby wasn't sure what to do now. He hadn't planned this far ahead. His eyes focused on the steady flexing of the rump departing his vicinity as the gears in his head attempted to engage. It took him nearly ten seconds to realize he wasn't following, before he scrambled forward, just managing not to stumble over his feet.

Phillip opened the door to one of the meeting rooms that lined the outer wall, to prevent the office workers from fighting over corner offices and window location. The stallion's ear flicked back towards the party, before he walked on through, tail flagged up far more blatantly than before.

The mouse arrived before the door could close fully, panting as he pushed it open, and staggered on through.

"Careful of your tail." The rich bass voice of the equine resonated in the small room, easily heard over the sounds of the party. He'd set his martini glass down on the table next to the speakerphone at its center, and was looking out the floor length windows.

Barnaby twisted, flexed his tail around, and brought the ropey appendage forward and around one of his legs, just before the door clicked shut. The sounds of the party immediately muted. These rooms were designed to be mostly soundproofed, so meetings wouldn't disturb other workers.

"Strip down." Phillip ordered without turning away from the window. With steady certainty, his thick fingers daintily undid the buckle on his belt, and a deft flick from the blunt, hoof-like thumbnail undid the button on his slacks.

With significantly less graceful motions, the mouse undid his tie enough to fit around his neck and popped a few buttons, before taking the whole kit and caboodle off of his torso like it was a tee shirt, which just resulted in the cuffs getting caught on his wrists. He squirmed and stomped a foot onto the collar of the shirt in its half-inverted state, and grunted as his hands slipped free all at once.

Meanwhile, the horse zipped down his fly with one hand, and with the other undid the button above the dock of his tail. He sighed and edged his fingers in between his dress shirt and the loosening waistline of his slacks until the taut fabric finally let go of the sculpted hips, ass, and thighs. The weight of the belt carried it down, peeling it into an inversion until it passed the knees, at which point the slacks just collapsed into a pool.

Barnaby jammed his thumbs into his waistband, grasping at his briefs' elastic in the same motion of grasping his belt. In one motion he shoved his slacks down over his narrow hips, which just dragged the base of his tail out through the still closed tail-fly, rubbing the fabric along the length of his naked appendage.

The seemingly painted-on boxer briefs were the last thing between the air and the mouse's goal. Phillip tucked both thumbs up under his draping lower shirt, hooking them down, and casually peeled them more actively off of his hips. Once it too fell to join his slacks, he smoothly raised one hoof, stepped down outside the garments, and then raised the other, kicking the slacks aside with it before it took a position that gave the male more of a wide stance.

The drunken rodent nearly tripped getting his feet out of his slacks, ending up inverting their hems up through his y-fronts in the process, and grasped onto the side of the meeting room's table for support. Barnaby panted, his arousal free to the air. He thought that by now he should have been able to smell it.

Phillip flicked his tail, before flagging it to one side. One hand casually caught the long dark hairs and pinned them onto his hip in a practiced fashion. He finally turned his head away from the window, as the waft of his scent brought on by the tail flick reached the naked mouse. "Well, get to your Christmas Dinner."

The gears in Barnaby's head almost audibly ground together, before he perked up and practically leapt at that shapely equine ass. The mouse's own arousal was quivering and leaking by now, but he was paying it no mind. His paws reached out and grasped the pair of brown-furred globes he had dreamed of so much. His bare fingers dug in, sinking through a bit of pudge before reaching the potent muscle underneath. He pushed his paws apart as much as he could.

Teasingly, the half-dressed horse kept his glutes tensed for a moment longer, before relaxing, which revealed his bare anal flesh to the mouse, as well as his hanging balls. The stallion casually pressed one forearm against the broad pane of glass in front of him, using the support to jut his hips back, increasing the ease of spread for the sodden rodent.

Finally, the dark puckered flesh was there before Barnaby's eyes. The mouse had seen other guy's tail stars before, but after all the anticipation, Phillip's was more than worth the wait. To his eyes, it was well-formed and evenly wrinkled, with fat, pillowy squish that begged to be touched. Placed as it was so deep in the valley of the horse's beautiful ass, the taut skin almost shining in the low light, it was a treasure hidden from the world. If he had been less drunk he may have mused on how many lucky people had also beheld this sight.

His goal revealed, the naked male shuddered, taking a deep breath. An understated musk with none of the sharp tones of funk that had become associated with the word invaded Barnaby's nostrils. It may as well have been a grappling hook in his mind, because his whole head was practically dragged forward. His waxed muzzle wedged against the big soft mounds of the male's rear cheeks as his lips met the pillowy ring of hairless skin. His fingers dug into the relaxed rump, squeezing as hard as he could manage to feel the soft padding above the firm muscle pool up between his digits, while his tongue pressed forward, and his olfactory experience was updated, that musk hitting his tongue at full force.

A bass rumble travelled down along Phillip's body, causing a vibration at each point of contact between himself and his admirer, as he wordlessly groaned in appreciation. The hand holding his tail out of the way left his hip and joined its brother up against the glass, along with the attached forearm. This posture shift caused two things immediately. The horse's dress shirt was pulled up, revealing more of his waist, and removing any obstacle for his swelling arousal to grow to its full size. The other effect was that the soft, strong hairs of the stallion's tail now draped over the mouse's back.

Shaking, Barnaby paid no attention to the long hairs or the fleshy dock above his head. His eyes were closed as he licked again and again; eagerly increasing the pressure each time he felt the flesh yield a bit more to him. The earthy flavor was like that musk that drew him in before, but so much more. His own ropey tail swayed and flicked behind him as he indulged. Soon enough he licked hard enough to part the ring of flesh and delve inward, eliciting another powerful rumble from his coworker.

Not a moment later, the horse twisted his hooves on the carpet towards one another, which just jutted his hips harder backwards, as the anal flesh loosened. The mouse's next lick delved deep, and he could feel the pucker around his nose.

He didn't hesitate, however. The rodent was hooked, pressing his tongue into the musky depths over and over, working deeper, trying to find the spots to drive the Adonis in his grasp wild. His pointed muzzle was soon stretched over by the horse's anus until his eyes were nearly pressed to it, but he felt like he was nowhere closer to his goal. Phillip was immense!

The stallion panted, and grinned. "Deeper." He ordered, the buzz of his voice reaching the rodent's ears both through the air and through the direct connection of his flesh to the mouse's skull. Phillip licked his lips slowly, and elaborated. "Don't stop until you reach my teeth."

A shudder ran up Barnaby's spine, and his shaft spurted a drop of pre. The mouse groaned, his voice absorbed utterly by the heavy flesh around his muzzle, and his toe claws dug into the carpet as his grip on the equine glutes slid outward and around, so he could pull himself forward with a fleshy paw on the front of each of his enormous partner's hips. This effort paid off in pressing his head deeper, his entire face sealed within. Distantly, he wondered if the slimy sensation was the equine's natural anal lubricant or all his fur wax melting from tine intense heat, but he didn't care, tongue continuing to shoot forward and grind at any surface he could.

By this point, Phillip's own shaft had dropped, and every lick was pulsing it back up towards his belly. He panted, and slowly lowered the flat bridge of his muzzle to the glass, inhaling deeply. His lungs were full of his own rising musk, with a tiny undertone of the mouse's own scent. His confident smile broadened at the thought that his even his scent was dominating the rodent's.

Pushing up onto his tiptoes, the mouse's grip faltered on the outside of the round, beautiful hips. Barnaby's shoulders were trying to fit between the brown furred globes, and with his arms extended, that wasn't going to happen. As the apex of his cranium inched deeper, he let his arms go limp. This released the resistance, and as his shoulders were allowed deeper into the crevice, the fleshy ring cinched up around the rodent's throat like a collar. In his drunken haze, he couldn't put together just how absurd or dangerous a situation he might be in like this, and was just heeding his orders. Deeper. Don't stop.

The battering ram of horse arousal surged and slapped against the larger male's midsection, sending a line of pre splattering against the window. The blunt head had barely missed colliding with the glass as well. Phillip would have to adjust his stance again to keep his dick from just resting on the glass.

Squirming beneath drew his attention. The horse could see Barnaby's feet wiggling, about an inch off the carpet, with about six inches of his ropey tail pushed down against the floor. It seemed to be as much as the rodent could do to get any deeper, with how tall the statuesque equine was.

Phillip bent his knees slightly, which pressed the mouse's feet back to the carpet, and kept going. The rigid body beneath his tail started to slip in faster. Another spurt of pre escaped the horse's shaft as the rodent's narrow shoulders stretched his tail star out again, and his breathing started to get shallower.

Barnaby shook with bliss as he was sat over more and more, feeling inch after inch of his torso get claimed by the intense heat of his object of desire. The mouse was dribbling pre fairly consistently now, unable to do much more than writhe and nuzzle at the inner walls that squeezed along his face and lick into the musky walls. Just as his bound arms at his sides were taken all the way to the wrists, with the soft fur and flesh of the horse's rump smooshing his hands against his thighs outside the ring of flesh, he felt his hard on push into the cleft of Phillip's ballsac. Each heavy teste framing the rodent's rod was wider than he was long, and his needy shaft didn't even show from the front.

The horse took a moment to breathe, before he stood back up, but the flesh was so snug around Barnaby that his feet and tail left the ground, dangling uselessly between Phillip's thighs. He pressed one hoof back along the carpeting, widening his stance for a moment, as he moved to brace against the glass by his hands instead of his elbows.

At that widening, instead of doing anything to rectify his lack of grip on the ground or try to wriggle free, the sodden mouse chose that moment to flex his arms at the elbow, spreading the intrusion to the immense rectum, while dragging his hands all the way inside. Barnaby let his hands come around to his front before allowing the pressure all around him to push his elbows back to his sides. The rodent then started to push upwards, working his arms up over his head, slipping deeper still into the horse.

Grunting, Phillip wondered what was going on under his skin, until he could see on the reflection of his beautiful form, a small handprint, right above the base of his cock. It moved and stretched in correspondence with the sensations inside. He huffed, and flexed his pelvic floor. Two things happened simultaneously. First, his leaking shaft slapped his flat belly, the head now reaching his solar plexus. Second, the mouse's hips slurked up out of sight behind him.

The pull sent a wave of pleasure through Barnaby. The increasingly encased rodent curled his toes in the air and looped his tail around both of his legs, making himself a better toy shape to be claimed by the mighty ass he loved. With a shift of his buried hips, he managed to right his erection from where the pulse pushed it backwards, and then started to grind against the pillowy inner flesh.

Over and over, the horse's cock slapped his belly and chest, spattering pre. His dress shirt and tie were probably getting little snail-trails of it on them, but he wasn't thinking about that. Each slap of his cock brought with it inches of Barnaby's body.

Said mouse found his arms being forced around a curve. His head followed, and he tried to twist to face the inside of the bend of the passage. He was basically successful, and started to slide forward into a nearly horizontal length of bowels, even as his legs were dragged into the upright tunnel he'd been experiencing so far. His knees were long hidden from sight, just his bare foot paws and curled tail tip exposed outside of the globes of horse ass, which squeezed in time with every pull.

Phillip tensed, and one of his bracing hands pulled from the glass to grasp the base of his cock, squeezing and pushing downward. Another powerful flex of his inner muscles, and he went over the edge. At the same time his shaft's blunt head flared out to its full size and the ridge of the buried urethra swelled with the onslaught of horse cum, the mouse's feet vanished from the world with a wet slorp.

Splattering against the glass, the dense cum sent vibrations across the floor length windows from one end of the room to the other, every time it struck. The horse's insides pulsed and flexed throughout the powerful display, and beneath the dress shirt, Phillip's belly was doming out with the newly acquired mass.

Within, Barnaby couldn't take it any longer, and shot his own comparatively miniscule load against the rippling walls around him. He'd ended up with his arms down the ascending colon on one side, his legs draped in the sigmoid colon on the other, and his torso lying along the space between the two. He panted heavily, every breath full of more of that earthy scent of horse. Rodents recover quickly though, and well before his 'host' had finished shooting seed, he was once again wriggling and trying to get deeper.

Gushing ropes turned to pulses barely clearing the swollen head of the shaking cock, and Phillip stood there, panting. As the twitching in his pelvic floor ceased and there was just the pint of postcum to reckon with for the foreseeable future, the horse finally let go of the base of his cock and stood up straight. He looked over the mess of the window, glad of his foresight to kick his pants away from this point. So much of his issue had pooled between his hooves.

Lucky for him, not only were there other large males on this floor to take the blame, but his company didn't do genetic screening or anything like that. It would probably just be a hassle for a janitor. Phillip dug his blunt fingertips into the underside of his cock and ground up towards the tip, squeezing free that leftover gunk which would just slowly drip out of him for who knows how long if he didn't try to get it out now. It dribbled from his urethra and dripped to the floor between his legs. He repeated the gesture until the viscous substance didn't even bead out the tip of his maleness.

Barnaby, meanwhile, had found a snug ring of flesh with his exploring fingers. He shifted his position, and managed to brace his foot paws against an inner wall and push. Gradually, the mouse started to work himself from the large intestines into the crooked path of the small. Of course, 'large' and 'small' were only descriptions of their diameter. By length and overall volume, the names were woefully reversed. The rodent was undaunted, however, and was ready for even a mile of twisting corridors of tight flesh squeezing along him.

Phillip grunted, having to milk one more time after a stretch somewhere inside him caused a twitch in his pelvic floor. He looked around, and spotted the haphazard pile of the mouse's clothing. He walked over to it and crouched down, with one hand he grasped the shirt, tie still looped under its collar. He reached under himself, and wiped across the puckered flesh there, since he'd felt something sliding between his cheeks. He came back with a smear of musk-saturated fur wax. He briefly wondered how much the rodent was wearing, before using the rest of the shirt to wipe off his softening shaft and hanging sac, getting all of the drizzle from both males off, before tossing the shirt back into the pile. He went to his own clothes, and very carefully used his practiced technique of fitting his maleness and broad hips into the snug boxer briefs at the same time, which involved tucking and careful shifting.

Barnaby got to the point where he could once again push with his feet, working his torso through the snug valve of flesh, while the lump under the horse's shirt bulged again, upwards this time.

The equine whickered softly and got to work putting his dress slacks back on. This was easier once his boxer briefs had slimmed everything down. Fastening the belt, however, he found he couldn't quite get back to the same hole he'd been using. Settling for the looser buckling and depending on his mighty hips to keep the taut fabric in place, he looked at himself in the reflection of the mirror. His powerful body looked nearly unchanged. The only real difference was that while before his dress shirt strained around only his chest and arms, now that strain extended to his abdomen.

Casually, Phillip turned, and walked out of the musk-marked meeting room, the sounds of the party returning at full blast, leaving behind only a martini glass, a set of crumpled clothing, and a mass of pungent seed.

The mouse, unaware of all this, managed to make his way fully out of the colon, and began his long trip up the crooked mile.

Phillip groaned and slapped his alarm. He'd forgotten to turn it off for the weekend. The horse looked around. He'd passed out on his bed, fully clothed, when he got home from the office party. With a grunt, he sat up, feeling heavier than he was used to, and started to strip down. Tossing the soiled garments into an open hamper in the corner of the room, the equine made his way into his bathroom, and turned on the water to wait for the shower to get up to temperature.

Suddenly, he felt something odd. Part of him thought it was nausea, or perhaps trapped gas. He loosened his inner chest and thudded onto his sternum, opening his jaws to try to free what he thought was a belch. The horse was shocked to see his throat bulging out with a wedge shape, with a more rectangular shape following up from behind.

Barnaby gasped as he found fresh air, and wriggled his shoulders, until he tugged his arms up into the open mouth with his head. He grasped onto the flat teeth of the horse and pulled, moaning indulgently as he worked his head out between the parted jaws. "I... I made it! I didn't stop until your teeth!"

Phillip was surprised by the mouse's achievement, but this gave way quickly to a slight curve to the corners of his open mouth and a lidding of the eyes as the rodent continued to talk.

"Now what do you wanna do? "The smaller male prattled, looking at the mirror in order to 'face' the horse. "I'm all riled up from your esophagus, hones-mmmph!"

The fat equine tongue had curled over the mouse's muzzle, silencing him. He shifted it, dislodging the narrow fingers from his broad teeth, and pulled with the powerful maw muscle. He smirked at his reflection, and the peeking eye of the rodent in the mirror, before snapping his jaws shut and swallowing powerfully. Phillip stroked his throat, feeling that wedge faced muzzle travel back the way it came, before his toned stomach swelled out again to how it had been all night.

"Time to head back the way you came." Phillip addressed his belly filler, reaching with a hand to test the water in the shower. "If you're still solid by the time you reach my ass, you can try again." He grinned to himself at the squirms this elicited, and the muffled moan, and stepped into his shower.

After all, he had all weekend before he had to return to work. Plenty of time.