FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

All characters depicted in this work of fiction are of legal age of consent.

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Friday / 08:16 PM

Finnick loved this city. In fact, were Zootopia a woman, he would have fucked her in a heartbeat.

She'd totally be his type as well. A classy lady on the face, with all the perfect makeup, sexy but modest dresses and clean, proper demeanour. But once she was in the bedroom, she'd drop to her knees and become an absolutely cock-hungry, depraved whore.

Finnick knew both parts of this bipolar city intimately. He spent his days in Zootopia's classier side, hustling those who could afford to spare him their hard-earned bucks.

Then on Friday night, if he could afford it, he got to visit that depraved, slutty underbelly of his home city. With the sun down and the moon out on a warm summer evening, the wolves came out to play... both metaphorically and literally.

Club HEAT was where the classy face of Zootopia came to booty call on the depraved underbelly. The queue was out the door and around the corner. Guys pretending for one night they weren't lowly slobs in order to appear more attractive, and the usually squeaky clean good-girls slutting it up with makeup and scandalously short skirts in order to catch the male eye.

The red carpet was reserved for express entries, granted expedient access to the classy neon-lit nightclub. And Finnick had paid a pretty fucking penny to get himself and his three sexy friends to pass through the velvet rope.

Many stared, women wondering if the fennec was some sort of celebrity. Guys were either looking at his retinue, or wondering how a manlet like Finnick strutted among the sleek slender legs and high heels of the women he kept company with.

The women, a leggy otter, a curvy vixen and an athletic and busty wolf, were each wearing skimpy dresses with plunging necklines. The vixen wore glossy pumps and black stockings, while the other two wore strappy high heels. Each moved with the practiced ease of a supermodel. By the looks of them they might have been supermodels, which brought the question up again.

What the hell was a three-foot-tall fennec fox in a cheap suit he must have found in the thrift store and trashy shutter-shades doing among these gorgeous femmes on the red carpet?

Truth be told, Finnick didn't much know either. He'd gotten lucky the past few weeks, his hustles about Zootopia paying up a little more than usual. He got more return from his investments, and with Mister Bigg being in such a good mood lately and throwing Finnick a few extra jobs, he'd managed to afford to get his name on the express entry list for one night.

Hooking up with the three hotties, that was the easy part. He'd done a data heist in an office building a couple days ago. Posing as the IT guy he'd gotten to chatting to a few of the office ladies - and honestly he was a little disappointed the trio weren't wearing their hot office outfits tonight. As soon as he let slip he was on Club HEAT's express list, they were all over him.

And taking them shopping for the new dresses they were currently wearing, he'd shown all three in the changing rooms that there was more to Finnick than his short stature.

Only a few feet tall, the tips of his broad ears only reaching to his otter companion's hip, Finnick could just as easily pass as a toddler. In fact, he often did during his hustles. But tonight his posturing and suit ensured he at least looked like the mid-twenties man he actually was.

The bouncers found his name on the list easily enough and let them in. Inside was a weird clash of chaos and order. Multicoloured lights threw heavy shadows all around, in which Finnick's eyes could only spot movement, but over the throb of what passed as music now and days he heard the moans, the ecstatic wails and the smack of lips drunkenly meeting in the darkness. Fur was on show everywhere he looked, with skirts riding up over asses, plunging necklines accidentally falling open on the dancefloor to reveal the forbidden flesh within...

Mix it all with the scent of watered down, over-priced booze and shamelessness, and Finnick was in heaven.

Club HEAT wasn't often host to Finnick's sort. He was working class, through-and-through. The usual clientele of these places were the upper class snobs chilling out on the VIP floor, a glass floored balcony overlooking the whole club. And then there was the middle-class dominating the floorspace, spilling hard earned cash they'd saved up all week in order to feel like the rich and powerful for a night.

Finnick wasn't criticising. He was here for the same reason... mostly anyway. The other reason he was here, we'll get to now.

Sliding into a booth and ordering the first round of drinks, Finnick lounged, his gaze impossible to follow through the shades. But it wouldn't take a genius to guess exactly where his eyes lingered as two of his companions slid in to his left side, the wolfess with the rack easing in close on his right. The leggy otter pressed up close to his opposite flank, her bare slender thigh folded over Finnick's own where it began to gently rub the rapidly growing bulge in his pants.

"So, you girls got into Club HEAT, first round free, no fuss, no muss. What do you say?" Finnick asked as if trying to teach a small child a lesson, smiling the whole time.

The three women giggled as they answered at the same time. "Thank you, papi."

It was the weirdest, and sexiest music to Finnick's ears. And it showed in the large bulge that rapidly formed in the front of his trousers. It was impossible to hide, not that Finnick was trying. And his retinue of escorts noticed it immediately, each staring hungrily and the otter licking her lips for good measure.

She was the first to sink down under the table. She was the smallest of them and fitted perfectly, her face rubbing the bulge in his pants while the vixen and wolf teased open his belt and fly. It didn't take long for them to release the immense member throbbing inside, they'd all had plenty of practice and none of them were surprised at the length and girth of the little fennec's cock. They'd seen it plenty of times these past few days, and each had been more than happy to help release it every time it got hard... which was often, to say the least.

The otter was on him first, sighing contently as she worshipped the rod across the chocolate fur on her cheek. Her eyes had fallen shut and there was something of a blissful expression on her face as she wrapped her slender fingers about his balls. The thing was easily the size of her forearm, the tip of it about eye-level with Finnick as he lay slouching in the couch. How he hid it away when he wasn't using it was anyone's guess.

It wasn't long before the vixen and wolf to join in. While the otter lapped at his balls and massaged the base of the cock with her fingers and lips, the other two started alternating their mouths over the tip and shaft. Once in a while they'd kiss, their tongues intertwining with Finnick's tip trapped in the crossfire.

It was fucking amazing how these three had been functioning middle-class girls a few days ago, and after only a little bit of chatting up and some slutty dresses they were turned into cock-thirsty whores. Needless to say, they were very thankful Finnick had gotten them into a rather exclusive - and expsensive - nightclub.

It didn't take long for the waitress to approach with their drinks. She was a lean and rather flat chested bunny with light brown fur and a shock of chestnut hair. But although she was lacking in curves, she had that tight, flexible physique rabbits were known for. They were called fuck-machines in lewder circles, thanks to an insatiable appetite and the uncanny ability to fit cocks of any shape or size in their holes.

She wore a neon green dress that glowed in the club lights and looked rather sexy on her despite her flat build. The skirt may as well have been non-existent and the plunging neckline reached all the way down to her navel. Her breasts were mere bumps, but as she set out the drinks and stared at the three woman sucking Finnick's cock, he noted her meaty nipples harden and poke through the light fabric of the dress.

Finnick casually produced a stack of bills and slid them across to her. "Keep the change, darling. You've earned it, especially since you had the good judgement to wear that dress." He lifted his shades and flashed her a wink for good measure.

The waitress chuckled as she kept her gaze on the three women fighting each other to lap at his cock. As big as it was, the three faces were crowding the length, almost possessively nudging each other out of the way so they could take turns wrapping their lips around the head and bobbing the crown into the back of their throats.

Biting her bottom lip cutely, she wagged her eyebrows at Finnick. "Thanks, but, eh... I was kind of hoping for a little extra."

Finnick noted she pocketed the money regardless of her desires, and laughed.

Before you could say 'public indecency' the bunny was in Finnick's lap, her scandalous little skirt pulled up over her hips and her pussy stretched wide around his canine shaft. The wolfess and vixen had retired to the edge of the booth where Finnick could easily see them in the corner of his eye. They each sipped their drinks, sitting pretty with their long bare legs elegantly crossed, alternating between intimate conversations and short but lusty make-out sessions.

The bunny in the meantime was squatted, facing away from Finnick. Her high heels dug deep into the cushions of the couch as she rode up and down. Finnick helped a little, his fingers digging into the tight curves of her beautiful little ass, but on every downward thrust his tip would crash into her cervix, leaving at least three inches of his cock down to the base dry and unloved. Thick rivers of the bunny's sexual gratification ran down the shaft but did little for Finnick, despite how tight this little waitress squeezed. Her pussy was like a fleshy little vice, tighter than anything he'd delved into before. He regretted not having any lube on him - if her pussy was this tight he could only dream of what her ass would feel like.

He was satisfied well enough by the help offered by the otter. She was still squatted under the table, her tongue tracing fitful circles on the bunny's clitoris, and lashing down across the base of Finnick's cock where a bulb was starting to swell. He got closer to the endgame, whereas the bunny waitress had been there, done that and was struggling to keep her mind from breaking at this point. Her deep purple eyes had rolled into the back of her head, her arms hung limply down her sides and her tongue rolled out of her mouth which hung agape. Every so often her eyelid would twitch like a nervous tick, in time with her hips and legs shuddering as wave after wave of squirting girl-gasms followed after each other like bullets out a machine gun. She just couldn't stop cumming on Finnick's cock, riding bliss for what seemed to be an eternity without reprieve.

The vixen and wolf making out, a bunny wrapped about his cock and an otter under the table putting her tongue to good use - funny enough this whole affair wasn't any more extravagant than what the other couples and parties were doing in Club HEAT's darker corners.

The bunny clenched, squirting one last time as Finnick felt his balls churn.

"Here comes your second tip, you greedy bitch!" he growled, clenching hard, then releasing a thick torrent of cum up into the waitress' bulging belly.

Having ridden soundlessly for a few moments, when she felt the hot sticky cream paint the walls of her womb, she let out a cry that could be heard across the club for a second. But thinking it part of the music, the patrons danced on and minded their own business.

As she lifted off his cock, the swelling in her abdomen went down, at the same time a sheer excess of cum her clenching cervix couldn't hold in drained from the stretched lips of her pussy and ran down her inner leg, right into the otter's hungry mouth.

The night only escalated from there. The bunny had to get back to work, and Finnick's sexy retinue dispersed to enjoy the rest of the club. They'd come out less for the sex and more for the glitz and glamour... or they wanted to see how the other men out tonight might compare to Finnick. Going by the group of larger guys - a bear, a rhino and an elephant - the trio gravitated towards, he had no doubt the three of them would be walking funny in the morning.

Finnick chuckled, thinking he was maybe a gateway drug to big dicks, turning every woman he met into a size-queen.

There was of course more to fucking than having a big dick. Take Finnick's best friend, Nick for example. Guy had racked up a count of poon higher than even Finnick could ever achieve, and he was pretty average for a fox. Same way there was more to seducing a woman than flexing your muscles and showering her in gifts.

Take the bookish looking vixen at the bar with a ripped tiger fawning over her. He was laying it all on, with his rippling muscles showing through his tight shirt, winning smile and exotic flexes. The vixen wasn't having any of it though, and still the tiger kept trying, forcing himself into her field of view at every chance.

It took Finnick a single joking comment at the tiger's expense to get the vixen to laugh. The cost of a drink and some good-humoured banter later, the two of them were in the ladies room. Finnick was standing up on the toilet lid, while the vixen was squatting awkwardly where see balanced on her high heels, hands bracing either wall of the cubicle as she shakily rode up and down the length of his cock. Her glasses were crooked and her eyes crossed, muzzle hanging open to let out a series of unabashed slutty moans interlaced with loving, wet gulps of her squirting pussy riding Finnick down to his knot, then back up to the tip.

Some of Finnick's previous load still dripped down her chin and decorated her glasses, and now the fennec was working up to another creamy explosion right into the vixen's yearning womb.

That wouldn't mark the end of this endeavour, Finnick figured. This girl, the bookish looking types sometimes were, was absolutely insatiable. After hungrily swallowing down his first load, she'd desperately jerked his erection back to life with both slender hands and hadn't wasted a second whipping about, sticking her taught, deliciously shapely ass out and sliding the cock up into her sopping pussy. She was bound to want another ride when this one was over. And what was more, her cries of ecstasy was starting to garner a queue.

Where the cubicle door hung open, a slender cheetah with the build of an Instagram model waited, watching with a patient smile as the vixen fucked herself silly on Finnick's pole. She'd called dibs on the next ride, with a long queue of ladies forming behind her, eager to give Club HEAT's seemingly complimentary service a go.

Thirty minutes and a dozen faces painted in his cum later, Finnick managed to stumble away. Tonight had been a rabid success, and a little over ten-PM, he was already starting to feel the strain. He'd been working all day, and now fucking a long line of innumerable women for nearly an hour straight. It was time to kick back and just chill for the rest of the night.

So, flattening out some of his ruffled fur, the fennec crossed the dance floor back towards his reserved booth.

As he wandered he took a little more interest in what was happening around him. Glancing revealed all the usual, overt details, such as the explicit making out. the copious amount of drinking. The odd lady squatting down and bobbing her head in a guy's lap, or vice-versa, a guy taking a knee to slide his face up under a lady's skirt, making her shriek into a hand with joy.

Closer inspection showed that darker underbelly of Zootopia. If the heavy drinking, publicly fucking part was Zootopia's classier side, imagine the seedier side.

At first Finnick thought he was seeing packets of gum exchange hands. Then he saw the resin thin, pale blue strips dissolve across seductively stuck-out tongues, and the spaced out, dazed looks that followed.

Finnick pulled a face as he saw more than a dozen examples of guys handing women drugs, then pulling them away in a spaced out state for some 'fun.' It was maybe a step up from slipping roofies in someone's drink, but it was a small fucking step.

Aside from that, drugs disgusted Finnick more than just a little. He smoked and drank himself, but anything beyond that was digging up a history he preferred to keep buried.

Sure, Finnick was a hustler, but he lived by certain moral standards. He never hustled anyone who couldn't afford it. And he never fucked up anyone for life, like with say drugs. You could argue selling illegal popsicles was the soy equivalent of street-thuggery but fuck it. It paid the bills and nobody had to get hurt.

Distracted by a pang of disgust, Finnick walked headlong into a woman dancing in his path. And he didn't just slam headlong into her legs either.

The tall tigress was squatted down, gyrating on the dance floor like a woman half her age. And the way his face slammed into the sumptuous curves of her ass, Finnick felt his cock twitch with renewed readiness. Her dress was something a woman her age should hardly be wearing, and yet she looked so damn good in it. She was easily in her late thirties, and still she drew male gazes away from the younger slender women swaying their bodies to the music.

She had slender, sleek, absolutely delicious curves. But there was also that little bit of chubbiness that never quite went away after having children, especially in the middle-class housewife lifestyle. That coupled with the vague imprint a wedding band had left on her finger sent Finnick reeling.

All of Finnick's 'married woman' alarm bells went off.

There were certain lines Finnick refused to cross. He was no homewrecker, and refused to engage with married or otherwise spoken for women, even if they were the ones engaging. Now there was nothing to say the woman hadn't gone through a recent divorce, but Finnick would never know for sure. And since he was intimately familiar with the fact that people sometimes lied, he always preferred to play it safe.

As she looked over her shoulder at him, she gave him one of those spaced out smiles Finnick had seen around the club. The woman was clearly indulging in the same drugs as the other women.

"There you are, baby," she purred with a slight slur in her voice, and she eased herself down to his level again.

Finnick was about to break off, when a figure his height and build stepped in. Another fennec fox cut across Finnick and snatched the tigress by the hand, pulling her away. This dude was clearly not her husband - game recognised game. That could also be why the other fennec gave Finnick such a daggers glare.

Paying it only half a mind, Finnick had never been so happy to retreat to an empty booth. But as he got there, he realised it wasn't meant to be.

No sooner had Finnick sat down, the bunny waitress breezed by - albeit still with a slight wobble in her step. She smiled warmly though and set down a drink on the house.

"This one's from the owner." Her eyes flitted upward, and Finnick followed her glance to the VIP section. "Segala sends her regards, along with an invitation to join her upstairs."

Finnick cocked an eyebrow as he spotted the infamous giraffe watching him from her elevated booth. Had Finnick never met Segala, the owner of Club HEAT in normal lights he would have mistaken her for a tall, stunning, graceful lady. That wasn't to say she wasn't graceful and stunning.

Segala was easily in her forties, and still in impeccable shape. Tall and slender, though on the skinny side her age was hidden by the slutty dress hugging her feminine curves. And even from down on the main floor, Finnick could see the giraffe's large modified breasts that belonged on a much younger woman stretching out the front of her plunging dress. That, and the lusty smile she had reserved for him was quite obvious. Segala had something of a reputation, a notorious taste for young seed. The stories that circulated her were as arousing as they were depraved.

Finnick made a gravelly grunt. "Uh... pass." He flashed the bunny a grin and slid out of is seat again. "I think I'll call it a night."

Flicking her a leftover buck he'd picked up somewhere, Finnick went to make his exit while his buzz was still pleasant. He'd swallowed down a couple of drinks, gotten more pussy than he did any other day of the week and hadn't gotten into any fights as a result. The going was good.

Unfortunately lady fate was a cruel bitch with a sense of humour.

As Finnick was trying to leave, there was a commotion by the front door. One of the bouncers came stumbling out of the reception area, and was subsequently flattened by a riotous throng of men storming the club. They were relatively small compared to the elephant bouncer, but they decked him all the same and flowed like a mass of bodies like Finnick had seen in a few horror movies that had cropped up after Zootopia's whole Nighthowler Crisis.

These folks weren't frothing at the mouth to sink their teeth in anyone though. Clad in dark clothes with masks hiding their faces, at first Finnick thought this was some kind of anti-government protest. But they way they scanned the club, it seemed they were looking for something.

And they found him, frozen in surprise standing between them and the dance floor. The lead figure, a tiger going by his beefy features and orange-black stripes, spotted Finnick first and with an angry scowl singled him out.

"You!" He was half shouting, half snarling. "I saw you come in here with her! Where is she?"

Finnick blinked. "Tigger, what?"

The mob pounced on him with clearly murderous intent... okay, 'murderous' was probably being overdramatic. Just the intent to end him with a flurry of fists to the face.

"Oh, fuck!" Finnick had less than a second to react. He bounced to one side, turned and with a desperate skid threw himself clumsily into the dancing crowd. Right behind him, an angry mob of masked assholes sprinted after him.

Dropping on his hip, Finnick slid between the legs of one woman, a tall and leggy gazelle in a miniskirt, and as he was carried out behind her by his momentum, he noticed she hadn't been wearing panties.

Unable to stick around to enjoy the view, Finnick found his feet and kept running, his small frame ideal for dodging between the forest of legs all around.

Somewhere behind the bouncers were leaping on the masked mob, dragging them back out. But several slipped the net and went after Finnick as he made a b-line of the staff-only area in the back.

Leaping over the bar he slammed into the swinging door and tumbled into the kitchens tucked in the back. The room of dull stainless steel and white clad staff was packed with club employees fetching extra drinks, bottles of chilled champagne and other preparing expensive appetisers for the club-goers. All of them were suitably surprised when a short fennec came charging in, pursued by black-clad assailants aggressively shoving their way through everyone and everything.

Pans and glasses clattered to the floor as Zootopians leapt aside as the chase carried through the kitchen. Finnick leapt up on one of the counters, trampling a salad as he sidestepped a large pig of a chef blocking his passage. As he ran, Finnick snatched the pan the pig's hand and flung it over his shoulder.

There was a distinct clang as he nailed one of the pursuers.

As he caught sight of the exit just ahead though, something snagged him by his sleeve.

"Gotcha," the tiger from earlier said, his nails ripping into Finnick's jacket.

He didn't have the fennec for long though as Finnick slipped his jacket and yanked open the swinging door of an oven, slamming it into the tiger's face.

Leaping off the counter, Finnick shoved his way out the kitchen door into the alley behind the club and turned the lock. His van was parked a few blocks away. It was as good an escape plan as any. He'd drive out of the city centre to the outskirts and lay low until all this - whatever the hell this was - blew over.

Finnick was still compiling the route to his van in his head when a group of figures rounded the corner at the mouth of the alley and staggered to a halt.

Black clad: check.

Masks: check.

Pointing at Finnick and yelling unintelligible accusations like "where are our women!?": double-check.

Whirling around, Finnick sprinted back the way he came, deeper into the alley. He was putting two and two together, but for some reason he was still getting five. These dickheads were accusing him of kidnapping someone? Their women? Fuck, that literally made no sense. Did Finnick really have the stature to be kidnapping anybody?

He figured 'fuck it' and kept running, scaling a chain-link fence at the end of the alley, then whipping around and leaping for a fire-escape ladder that hung just out of normal reach. Snatching the bottom rung, he heaved himself up by his arms, then vaulted over the handrail onto the metal deck.

Below him, the masked mob did the same, scaling the chain-link fence and leaping at the ladder after him. The first missed and tumbled clumsily to the ground. The second guy caught it, and as he clambered up, he kicked loose the lock, letting the ladder slide down for his fellows to follow.

Finnick was already halfway up the fire escape and found an open window. Sliding it up the rest of the way, he vaulted inside, slammed the window shut and set the latch.

Only then did he look around and realised he'd bounded into some poor kid's bedroom.

The toddler was actually a little taller than Finnick, and the young fox stared with large eyes over the high side of his bed.

"It's past your bed time," Finnick reminded the kid, then dashed out the door, snatching up a sweater on his way out.

Pulling on a stylized elephant hoodie, complete with a hood sporting two large floppy ears and a foldable scarf with a faux-trunk, Finnick bounded to the opposite end of the apartment and barged his way into mum and dad's room.

Both were coincidentally present, but none the wiser to Finnick as he leapt onto their bed, bounced over their twisted, panting bodies while they fucked like rabbits, and launched himself out the open window.

Catching a corner drainpipe on his way out, Finnick slid straight down and landed heavily on a dumpster far below. No sign of the mob following him. Good, he'd probably bought himself a few minutes.

Pulling up the hood to hide his tell-tale fennec ears from view, Finnick exited the alley and took a look around. While the masked mob had lost track of him, they weren't letting up. He spotted telltale figures in black hoodies hassling club-goers and prostitutes on the street asking about a certain fennec fox. Most shook their head, despite the masked goons pressing hard for information. Three times Finnick had to cross a street or straight up turn around and try an find another way around as the groups were blocking whole streets in their search.

They were persistent, he had to give 'em that. Unfortunately, that persistence was pushing Finnick further and further away form where he had parked his van. At this rate he'd be better off just walking to Zootopia's outskirts and finding a bridge to spend the night under.

On one familiar street where he and his pal Nick had often hustled wage-slave hamsters out of a few bucks in exchange of 'black market' popsicles, masked goons ended up wandering onto both sides of the street. Finnick tried to double back but quickly found himself boxed in.

The mob was closing in on all sides, and to his dismay, Finnick only saw one out. Across the road, a sprawling park that was walled off to the public eye. Inside the splattering of large water fountains and the ecstatic moans of the residents could be heard.

Most Zootopians found the Naturalist Resort pretty icky and gave the place a wide berth, especially outside of daylight hours. A bit hypocritical, to be honest, since the same people avoiding the Naturalist Resort at night often headed to establishments like Club HEAT for the same sort of debauchery, just with a different veneer.

Either way, the Naturalist Resort would be a good place to lay low.

The usual shaggy yak was sitting at the reception desk, laid back and basking in a cloud of flies orbiting his nappy head.

"Whoa, sorry kid. This here is a grown-up club," he said as he looked Finnick up and down. "Shouldn't you be, like, in bed or something?"

Growling, Finnick yanked down his hood. "Save it, yack. I need a place to lay low."

"Yo, Finnick. Long time no see, brother," the yack said, chuckling. "How's Nick doing? You guys still on the popsicle thing?"

"Yeah-yeah-yeah. About the laying low..."

"Oh, no worries, dude. You can hide out here for a bit if you need to. Me casa, sous casa!" He of course failed to mention this wasn't his 'casa' so to speak. But either way, Finnick was in.

The fennec was about to bolt inside when the yak sat up. "Ah-ah-ah, hang on. You know the rules, man."

Finnick growled again. "Oh, c'mon. really?"

"Yeah, bro. Rules are rules."

Grumbling, Finnick weighed his options, decided he didn't have the brain power to come up with any other ideas, and started unbuttoning his pants. Some short moments later he was walking into the resort, dick swinging in the wind and wearing naught but the toddler's elephant hoodie he'd convinced the yak to let him keep.

The inner resort was much the same as the reception area. The gardens were neatly pruned, fountains and natural waterfalls decorated the space and there were little micro-habitats to suit any race of Zootopian.

The clientele were much like the club goers, albeit a little older, significantly more naked and miles less subtle about their fornication. To put it plainly, orgies dotted every lawn. This wasn't the usual sight of course, only after hours.

Several gazelles, a bit older than Finnick's usual type, strutted by like a pair of mature, leggy super models. Their lithe, gorgeous bodies were on full display, not a shred of fur or pink flesh hidden by clothing. It was kind of refreshing, but Finnick wanted to keep a low profile. His dick was only at half-mast and the passing gazelles paused to give him a look and blow kisses, giggling among themselves.

Keeping his hood up, Finnick made for the nearest crowd in an attempt to blend in. This retinue seemed to be some sort of exercise party. Some sort of yoga it seemed, with paired off individuals entwined in complicated sexual positions that could only be described as 'sex-fu.'

The sexual yoga was led by a towering elephant, describing in her native accent how her class should get into the positions without hurting themselves or their partners. The couples gasped and moaned as they shifted, the men slowly thrusting into their women before twisting into new positions that had some climaxing on the spot.

As Finnick quickly joined, working with an invisible partner and suspiciously keeping an eye over his shoulder in case he was followed, a couple of limber otters to his right waved smiling.

"Good evening, dear," the woman said with a pleasant smile. As she did she leaned back and her husband, Finnick could tell based on their wedding bands, the only things they were wearing, slid a little deeper into her, brushing her g-spot and making her legs tremble and eyes roll.

"Good, Mister Otterton," the elephant leading the class complimented. "Excellent form."

"Thank you, Nangi," the male otter said quite proud of himself, one hand groping his shaking wife's breasts, the other pushing his glasses a little higher up his nose.

"And we have a newcomer without a partner," Nangi announced. "Excellent. I was about to demonstrate an anal technique. It will be easier with help. Come up here, young man."

Finnick was about to decline and move on when a casual glance at the forward section of the resort changed his mind. Spreading out across the gardens were a certain bunch of black clad, masked men, all of them leering across the scattered orgies in search of him. What killed Finnick the most was that somehow they'd gotten past the yack with all their clothes still on.

Wither way, Finnick had to hide himself. "Yeah, sure. Hang on." He floundered further into the group and sidled up to the voluptuous elephant.

As he did, Nangi demonstrated a complicated position for her class. Curling her back she balanced on her hands and spread her thick thighs wide open, feet pointed up to either side. Her pussy was pretty much eye level and the way she scrunched up her firm abdomen put her large, soft ass-cheeks on the tip of Finnick's cock. He'd been hard pressed to keep his dick from springing up with all the reasonable looking women hanging about the place getting eagerly stuffed in every conceivable hole and position. Many of them were a little older than his usual type, but they seemed much more 'experienced,' so to speak.

"Now." Nangi scooted forward. "In this position we want to engage in anal. Your partner can help support you. The idea is to get a nice upward thrust, gentleman. Massage her prostate with your glans, and touch everything else with your hands for good measure."

The warmth of her cheeks enveloping Finnick's glans and that inviting, tight anus clenching for a moment, then relaxing on his crown made him press forward like a man in a trance. He was still keeping an eye out for that mob, but his body moved on automatic, pressing inch after inch of cock into Nangi's hot furnace.

She was more than large enough to take him without much effort, but still hot and tight enough that Finnick clenched so he wouldn't fill her bowels with his seed right off the bat.

Nangi's eyes rolled, a smile twitching across her face as she drew a shuddering breath. "Oh, my. An eager little fellow, aren't you?" Quickly composing herself, she clenched her abdomen again and thrust her ass a little further around Finnick's cock until his balls slapped against her round cheeks. "Now, as you can see the man can then keep his hands free to play... oh! Ooooooooh~!"

Her eyes rolled again as Finnick went all in, though only half paying attention; even with his dick all the way in Nangi's hot ass and up to his elbow in her sopping cunt. He was kind of glad to be hugged by her clenching anus, her pussy was beyond even his size. It would literally be like tossing a hot-dog down a mineshaft. He wondered humorously if that was what it was like for men fucking the women he'd already been with.

Either way, her ass was nice and tight, and it didn't take long for Finnick to feel that familiar churn of pleasure in his balls.

"Oh, yes!" Nangi cried, feeling his knot swell between her ass cheeks with every thrust. "Keep going! I'm going to... oh, its been a while since anyone made me... made me... cu-cu-cuuuuhhhh..." her expression went from lucid to dumbfounded in a second as she couldn't get the word out.

Instead she screeched loud enough to turn heads from all over the park. Some in their own independent orgies seemed to get off and climaxed to the sound of Nangi's cries of ecstasy.

For Finnick, any woman's cries of orgasm was sweet music, and Nangi was no different. The sound tipped him over and he thrust deep one more time, blowing a load up into her stomach with several long, powerful spurts.

Nangi's whole body shook like Mrs Otterton's had, and a large torrent of juices hosed Finnick, soaking him right through his fur. And for all her advanced yoga skills, even Nangi couldn't keep herself upright. His cock slipping from her ass, the elephant's disciplined muscles buckled and she collapsed to the ground, closing her thighs around her hands, still massaging her burning clit while riding out the long, unceasing orgasm racking her body.

Finnick swallowed a breath and pushed back his hood. "That, uh... that was actually pretty good. I should visit this place more often," he added with a chuckle.

Just then there was a loud, obnoxious clearing of a throat. His crotch soaked in elephant lady cum and glistening dick swinging limply, Finnick whirled around to see the mob had doubled back. No doubt attracted by the sounds of their frantic fucking.

Finnick coughed and quickly pulled up the hood again in an attempt to hide his fennec ears. "Um... toot-toot, I'm an elephant?"

The tiger at the front leaned sideways a little, then pointed at Finnick's plush tail. "Try again, fox."

With a sigh, he pulled back the hood again. "Fine. But there's just one thing you forgot about."

"Yeah? What's that then?"

"Smokebomb!" he shouted, tossing a handful of nothing at his feet.

The mob were so bewildered by the distinct lack of smokebomb, Finnick was able to turn tail and dip out. There was a good ten seconds of head-start before the tiger and his fellows realised they'd been duped. By then Finnick was already running into a house at the corner of the courtyard. At the nearest stairwell he climbed to a rooftop garden where a small group of smaller mammals were going at it.

Leaping over the squirming mass of moaning fur, Finnick escaped across the rooftop and leapt to the top of the resort's perimeter wall.

Landing hard, he skidded to a halt on the bare stone. But looking back, he realised he wasn't home free. The masked mob were in hot pursuit, barging to the garden orgy, scattering the participants rudely and running after him. Finnick climbed to his feet with a winded limp as the hate mob leapt over to him one at a time.

Forming up behind the tiger, one by one they fished into their pockets and drew a plethora of knives. Some looked like they belonged in the hands of a military man, others your usual thrift shop flip-knives. The tiger among a few more held out run of the mill kitchen knives.

"What the fuck do you want from me!?" Finnick yelled at them, backing off as rain started to smatter the rooftop.

It was a light summer shower at first, and then it was a heavy torrent, cold water pelting them from the side as a frigid wind from the arctic parts of the city blew in harshly. Finnick's balls shrunk into his gut with a mixture of cold and helplessness.

"What the fuck do you want from me!?" he yelled over the clatter of rain pelting them.

The tiger leading the group pointed directly at Finnick. "You took them! Our wives! You tricked them into cheating on us!"

"What? I don't do married women..."

"Shut up! I saw you, you stripey midget! You picked my wife up after yoga! Took her to that degenerate nightclub! I saw you passing her pills!"

Finnick gaped. The spaced out tigress on the dance floor back at Club HEAT popped into his mind. The one he'd identified as married. And the fennec fox who had been with her, same sort of clothes, same sort of build...

"You got me mixed up with someone else, fuck-stick!" Finnick yelled.

"Nice try. You're not getting out of this easy!" the tiger snarled, making forward with his knife.

Fuck it, there was no negotiating with these pricks. They had mistaken him for someone else, but there was no convincing them. And with no weapon of his own, on top of the fact he was out-numbered, he was going to be hard pressed to defend himself. He needed another out.

Glancing around, he saw it. A smelly angel of salvation rumbling down the street behind the mob. A garbage truck, the top open, reeking of wet filth as it chugged casually along. Its path would carry it along the outside of the resort's wall, right past Finnick.

He groaned, figured there was no other out and just went for it.

Leaping forward he caught the tiger off-guard. He wasn't expecting Finnick to charge and froze with surprise. But instead of leaping on that tiger, Finnick bounced off the outer wall and soared through the air, before disappearing into the garbage truck with a sopping squelch.

The garbage truck carried him around the corner before the mob even realised what had happened. Safe in a cocoon of filth, Finnick was carried a few blocks over. It was a good ten minutes before it stopped at a traffic light and a sorry sight clambered out the back.

Finnick was a shell of himself in just a few short hours. He'd started the night as sharply dressed, well-groomed and the object of lust for women far and wide. Now he was a bedraggled mess, a banana peel sitting on his head like a hat and dressed in naught but a child's elephant hoodie.

Nearly every married man in Zootopia out for his blood because they had convinced themselves he'd somehow cucked them, Finnick had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. And worse still, he realised he had gone in one big fucking circle.

He was standing across the street from Club HEAT once more, with only one last idea worth a damn left. With a tired sigh, Finnick walked over and caught the bouncer's attention.

Friday / 10:47 PM

They could have just told him to take a hike, were it not for the fact the door-man recognised him. The reception was warmer than he'd expected. To be honest, Finnick expected to hit a dead end. But no.

They took him in, hosed him down and provided a clean shirt on the house. No pants though. But considering Finnick was presenting himself as accepting Segala's invitation made a few hours ago, they figured there'd be no need for pants.

"My dick got me into this," Finnick mumbled to himself as he walked onto the VIP floor, catching the smiling giraffe's eye. "It might just get me out of this."

Segala was lounging with her long slender legs crossed elegantly so the view up her miniskirt was partially teased. And from there, Finnick's practiced eye could pick out the faint details that betrayed missing panties. The real question was whether she'd strategically forgotten them before coming out tonight or removed them when hearing Finnick was coming up. He might never know for certain.

The dress she wore was bright red, clung to her sleek feminine curves like a second skin and seemed to be held up by naught but a choker wrapped about her slender neck. The whole ensemble was sluttier than a woman her age had any business wearing, the collar plunging right down to her navel, revealing the soft furry valley between her perky breasts. A woman with her connections and money, it was no surprise to Finnick that she'd had a high-end boob-job or two. Not that it was a criticism though. Her tits looked fucking magnificent, hanging naturally for lack of a bra, full, pillowy and perky with her hard nipples evident thought the silky strands of fabric that made up the front of her dress.

In the poorer light down on the dance floor, Segala could easily be mistaken for a woman a quarter her age. But on the VIP floor Finnick picked up a few tells, like her all grey hair, despite how voluminous, bouncy and fashionably permed it was. Her full, red lips dabbed with a bit of glitter and gloss giving them a wet sheen. Her perfect sheen of fur with not a hair out of place.

"Mister Finnick!" she called over the low throb of music. Things were quieter and better lit on the VIP floor, and Finnick could do little to hide the half-chub forming on his crotch. Segala, as matured as she was, was a ravishing looking broad, and there was no hiding he was secretly turned on by her. "So nice of you to 'finally' accept my invitation. I'll be honest, when my boys said you'd rolled up half naked begging to see me I hardly believed what I was hearing."

Finnick rolled his eyes. He hadn't begged, but he had looked a little desperate - out of breath, dressed in a child's hoodie and covered in trash.

"Look, Segala. I'm not really up for a game of hide-and-go-fuck tonight." Finnick had stomached a few dealings with Segala in the past so he knew how this would go. "I need somewhere to lay low until the hate mob roaming Zootopia tonight decides to pack it in."

"Ah, yes. I saw that. But everything has a price, don't you know?"

Experience told him where this was going. And right on cue, Segala recently opened her legs in a way that had turned into a trope long ago. Only instead of re-crossing them the opposite way, she let her thighs spread open further, the tight miniskirt of her dress riding higher up the globes of her ass. Between was her neatly trimmed pussy and a few brown spots on her thighs breaking up the golden fur covering her body. Her labia was a tight little nubile cleft Finnick had seen on the occasional virgin he'd bedded in his lifetime.

She wagged her eyebrows at Finnick making him sigh. Without a word he moved forward. He at least didn't have to prostate himself between her legs. Where she sat the couch was tall enough for him to just walk up and press his muzzle into her pussy.

Segala inhaled sharply through her nose, her long eye-lashes fluttering for a moment. Her flesh spread open a little against Finnick's warm lips, blossoming to drown him in her musky scent, but he held there without doing anything, letting a moment of anticipation build until the giraffe tutted sharply.

"Now, now. No teasing," she said huskily. "You know what happens if you keep me waiting."

Finnick grunted, then heard her gasp sharply as he lapped her slit, from the base where his tongue dipped into her sweet honeypot, then ran firmly up across her clit and slithered through the hood of sensitive flesh just above.

She bit down on her lips, bucking her hips into Finnick's mouth as he started lapping up and down, paying particular to her burning nub of flesh just above her opening, hands holding her sleek thighs in place so she wouldn't crush his head. She hooked one leg over his shoulder, the stiletto heel of her strappy sandal digging into the small of his back. Her arms were slayed out across the back of the couch, manicured nails audibly rasping across the faux leather.

"Th-there's a goo-ooooh~... good boy!" she cooed, body starting to convulse back and forth in a rhythmic dance of pleasure. "Your tongue never disappoints, darling."

Finnick answered, but with a mouthful of pussy, it came out in a warbled, muffled and unintelligible mess. Not that it mattered anyway, because regardless of what he said, Segala picked up a new strand of conversation between her gasps and moans.

"A pity that mob ruined - ah! Gently dear - ruined your night out," she said. Her eyes were rolling into the back of her head and she was panting for breath as she rode higher to an orgasm. "I figured they w-would mista-ah! Mistake you for the serial a-adulterer g-going around... nnnnnnghh! Yeah, right there!" she added with a vapid smile. There were several facial ticks pulling at her eyes and mouth, making her smirk uneven and her right eye twitch dangerously.

Her body flexed tighter against Finnick's face and there was a small jet of feminine cream on his tongue. It was a preparatory little convulsion as she noticeably held herself back. She wasn't ready yet. She wanted more before she let an orgasm take her.

As Finnick picked up the pace with a small sense of impatience, Segala reached over and on her second attempt managed to pick up a tabloid. Out the corner of his eye, Finnick saw a frontline article about some kind of serial adulterer going around town.

"Word is a fennec with your d-description is showing the ladies of Zootopia a good time - mmmmm~!" She brought the paper closer for him to see, and added, "He's been f-... oh, yeah... fucking his w-way through celebs, porn actresses, and most im-importantly, married women for weeks now."

The grainy picture on the article was a recognisable picture of the pop princess known as Gazelle. She was decked out in some incognito outfit, but not that it mattered anyway. Her sunglasses had slid down her nose to reveal her rolling eyes, her wide had was pitched back and the front of her trench coat fell open to reveal her naked body underneath, and a short fennec between her legs fucking her like a rabid little beast. By the stripes in his fur and the large broad ears, even the height, Finnick almost thought he was looking at himself fucking the famous popstar he'd beat his meat to at least a dozen times this month.

"I knew it wasn't you though," Segala added, taking a deep breath to compose herself against the ministrations of Finnick's tongue. "You and your code against homewrecking... and your aversion to drugging your partners of course."

Finnick said something else, but like before it was a muffled mess against Segala's pussy.

"But it's no surprise the cucked husbands of Zootopia mistook you for our mysterious serial adulterer. Especially considering the fuck-spree you've been on-... oh GAWD!"

Segala howled like a wolf as she threw her head back, no longer able to hold back against the rising pleasure. Finnick snaked a finger into her slick pussy, gently rubbing the g-spot on the roof of her canal, driving her over that edge. Her whole body clenched and she squirted across Finnick's face, drenching his fur and leaving drops of moisture dripping from his whiskers.

After some moments of catching her breath, Segala turned her smile down on the fennec lifting his face from her crotch.

"I don't suppose you know this serial adulterer who fucked my Friday night out?" Finnick asked, Segala's pussy on his breath.

"I know everyone. And while you've bought my help," she said with a satisfied smile, a devilish glint still twinkling in her eyes, "you have to pay a little bit more for that information."

Reaching down and fuelled by a second wind, Segala grabbed Finnick by the back of his shirt and easily lifted the short fox up into the air. He dangled there like a grouchy cub being chided by his mother. Except while Segala was perhaps old enough to be his mother, she was no mother.

Licking her lips she said, "A nice load of cream ought to do it."

Without another word she shut her eyes and eased her full lips open. They glinted bright red with glittery lipstick and moisture before wrapping with ease around Finnick's full and throbbing erection. In an instant the full length of his member disappeared into her mouth, plugging the back of her throat before she swallowed it whole, several inches sliding with ease into her long throat. She was like a snake swallowing its meal whole, her throat muscles massaging the head in a divine slippery way.

The feeling was short lived through, and before Finnick could feel the churn of his balls preparing to release down her gullet, the giraffe pulled back. Although her long dexterous tongue wrapped around his shaft, leaving slippery wet trails as it jerked back and forth.

Several strokes later she uncoiled her tongue and threw finnick down on the couch beside her before rising elegantly and backing over him. She lifted her skirt a little more, then with the dexterity of a younger woman squatted over slick and erect cock.

In all his dealings with Segala, Finnick had usually been made to eat her out or finger her a bit. And sometimes she'd return the favour by letting him blow in her mouth with a tongue job, or all over that lovely neck of hers with the help of her skilled hands. This tough - feeling her intimate juices drip down his shaft while the mouth of arousal engulfed his crown in warmth - was unlike anything he'd ever done with her before.

Without much ceremony or hesitation, she sank down, impaling herself on the immense rod. Her body yielded, stretching open to receive him, and as he hilted inside her, the bulb of his knot too big to even fit inside her, he ran his stomach over her toned mid-riff and felt a throbbing bulge his cock left in her trim belly.

Segala was tight as a virgin, probably because she didn't let many men in that hot little treasure trove often. As far as he knew she generally got her jollies trapping men's faces between her thighs; so this was a rare and elusive treat indeed.

Segala's form was amazing to boot. She was half squatted without any effort, and with hands on knees and keeping her back arched she started bouncing up and down. It was like she was twerking to the beat of the background music. It was hot and fast. Segala had clearly gotten what she wanted out of him already, so she was rewarding him in turn.

"God, that's a big cock," she crooned with a wide sloppy smile plastered over her face. A line of drool dangled from her glittery bottom lip and her eyes were rolled back. Her eyes even watered a little, running a little mascara trail down her left cheek. "So fucking good. So... so.... Oooooooh~!"

Segala came loudly, her already tight tunnel squeezing Finnick so hard that when he came, he could barely get his cum out. It was like a wet vice clenching hard as a squirt of warmth showered Finnick's balls.

His nuts were practically sucked into his belly, that's how hard Finnick came. And even then, the tightness of her pussy prevented him from erupting all the way up into her womb. A long gush of semen was reduced to a slow, steady trickle that flowed up against her cervix. But Segala was satisfied all the same, shuddering and trembling so hard she flopped forward and dropped to her knees.

His cock freed from her vice immediately let loose one final eruption, all up Segala's bare back and into her hair. Grunting as he finally got the massive release her tight pussy prevented, Finnick let his cock rest between the globes of her incredible ass for a moment, the softness of the cheeks mixed with the sleek silk of her dress an amazing feeling on his sensitive member.

Shakily, she managed to crawl back onto the couch beside him. Segala lounged much like when Finnick had come in, except she had her legs unceremoniously open with a small river of cum dribbling from her stretched labia, her chest rising and falling with every dog-like pant as she caught her breath. One dainty hand fanned her face, the other slid a phone from between the cushions and handed it to Finnick.

He unlocked it curiously and was presented with a line of names, numbers and a single address in the less wholesome part of Zootopia.

"Your serial adulterer's name is Slye." She swallowed a breath and shakily leaned forward to sip from her champagne flute. "He's a wannabe mafioso, drug dealer and I saw him with some married women today. He'll be at that address if you wanna talk to him."

Finnick scoffed, then slid off the couch. "Oh, we're gonna 'talk,' alright."

Friday / 11:21 PM

Finnick's van was a bit of a banger. Spluttering and gurgling, the diesel van was anything but stealthy. And yet it blended into the environment just right.

This part of Zootopia wasn't the most reputable. Going back to the comparison of Zootopia if the city were a woman, this part would be the early grey hairs and results of long-term drug abuse and promiscuity. The inner-city blocks were mostly incomplete, their yards strewn with building materials and old equipment that would never again be started up. A mayor's bright idea that never saw total fruition. Just a bare concrete structure that barely looked fit to house anyone, and yet was packed to the brim with poorer, working-class families stuck between homelessness and a city-wide housing crisis that was spiralling out of control.

Pulling into a junk strewn alley, Finnick's van fitted right in. He could even get away leaving the keys in the ignition for a quick getaway. He pulled his trusty baseball bat from the passenger side cubby, and with the wooden bat resting over his shoulder, trotted to the chain-link fence surrounding the nearest block.

Theoretically speaking, nobody was allowed in. The building was supposed to be condemned and slated for demolishing, but the mayor was too big of a pussy to risk a riotous uprising from the people living here, so he left the area to rot. Even the cops didn't come here very often, the response time sometimes crawling on for half an hour.

That was good for Finnick. It'd give him enough time to di-di-mau if things went south.

Keeping low, Finnick made sure it wouldn't come to that as he moved in. A hole in the rusted fence let him in, and his stature kept him hidden among the reams of unused cinderblock and lengths of rusting pipe that never quite became plumbing.

Finnick rounded a corner, when a ding in his pocket brought him to a halt and he ducked back into the shadows. Taking out the phone Segala slipped him, Finnick saw a new text had arrived. It was from the lady herself.

"Watch out. I forgot to mention Slye's goons are armed."

Finnick rolled his eyes and leaned out, spying the block's front door. Standing outside was a wolf packing a ruddy looking snub-nosed submachine gun. A bit late for the warning, Finnick didn't know any gun dealers anyway. Fuck it, he'd just have to make it work. So, setting the phone to silent to prevent any 'accidents,' he hefted his bat and stuck to the shadows.

The wolf didn't see him come until it was too late. By that time, Finnick had already run up the wall beside the sentry and leapt off with a murder-stroke of his bat to the face. The sound of the impact was suspiciously hollow, and the wolf whipped around, crashed into the outer doors of the block before dropping backwards.

They both hit the ground at the same time. Finnick quietly landed on his feet, the wolf crumbing face down like a sack of potatoes.

Stepping over the unconscious sentry, Finnick stooped pick up the gun, but after some consideration thought the better of it. The uzi was pretty bulky, especially for him, and would impede his movement and ability to keep things quiet.

Keeping the bat ready, Finnick moved inside hoping his options for armaments might improve.

There was one lone goon in the litter-strewn foyer. The weasel was faced away and no wiser to the fennec fox closing in behind, or his buddy who was drooling into the dirt just outside.

He wasn't much taller than Finnick, and didn't take much convincing to lie down. With his bat across the weasel's throat, the sentry fell unconscious before Finnick crossed to the stairwell.

To be totally honest, Finnick wasn't sure where he was going to find this fuck-stick named Slye, so he just headed up flights of steps and searched quietly floor-by-floor. On several of the lower floors he saw there were families living in the block. Poorer, under-privileged folks just getting by day by day. Then around the mid-section of the block revealed were accommodations for Slye's gang. Worked through them one at a time, distracting, isolating and dropping the thugs quietly. There were mixes of wolves, foxes, weasels and a larger bear who almost threatened to become a problem. Most of them were packing black market guns, all of which did them little good as Finnick dragged them into darkened rooms and strangulated them, or pounded their faces into the ground.

Bashing his way through eight goons distracted by booze and card games, Finnick moved higher. Upper floors were storage of some sort, guarded by a two more guys who were easy to isolate.

The storage areas looked to double as a chemical manufacturing plant. Ventilation hoses were draped out windows, a concoction bubbled among the massive reams of transparent packets. Like in Club HEAT, Finnick's first glance mistook the packets for containing strips of gum. A closer look revealed resin strips of pale blue, the same drugs he'd seen women take in Club HEAT shortly before turning into pliant whores.

Among the various vats of bubbling liquid and steaming jars of volatile chemicals, it was impossible to mistake the various flowers the lab staff were grinding up into their concoctions. Nighthowlers, the infamous little purple flowers terrorists had used only a few years ago to terrorise the people of Zootopia. only it seemed Slye's gang were using it to make people a whole different kind of crazy rather than turn predators feral. Slye's boys were concocting the stuff to make women sexually feral.

One floor up, Slye's operation got darker still.

The topmost floors were more like a brothel. Five more armed guards oversaw several patrons as they were let loose on the 'wares.' Women of every shape and size, some wearing familiar dresses in the same slutty style Finnick had seen in Club HEAT. Others in lingerie complete with garter belts, silky gloves and corsets. Others were put in leashes, a few even tied while they were ravaged by two or three guys all at once.

And every one of them seemed to be loving the attention.

The women were older than your typical prostitute though. Thirties and up for the most part. And many looked more middle-class housewife than your average dolled up whore making a quick buck with a suck-and-fuck. And all of them wore that spaced out, drugged expression he'd seen after taking that resin strip of Nighthowler shit.

Knitting his eyebrows with some confusion, Finnick kicked the last of the guard's legs out from under him and hung him across the shaft of his bat. The fox gagged and struggled for a few moments, before in his dazed state he was levelled into the nearest wall and crumpled unconscious. From there Finnick convinced the patrons taking advantage of the drugged women to leave quietly. Some of them seemed like scumbags, but the other young fellas looked more like lads who'd never been desired by a woman before. Finnick didn't want to go judging everyone and risk getting a few judgements wrong. If they were bad men, they'd turn up to do bad shit again, at which point they would get theirs.

In the meantime, Finnick had a definite scumbag to deal with. He climbed further to the very top floor. This is where he found the penthouse - at least what passed as one.

Essentially all the apartments on this floor had been broken apart to make one large apartment, with some dividers breaking up the cavernous living room from the bedrooms and utilities.

Sneaking in, Finnick froze at the sound of a gasp. Just off to the right was an open door, bedroom inside. There lay a tigress, the familiar woman Finnick had bumped into at Club HEAT. Her dress was missing, her wedding ring was on full display and she was on her back, bucking against the skinny hips of a weasel who thrust his cock deep into her sopping pussy with copiously wet slaps.

She wore that same dazed expression as the drugged women downstairs, and rabidly begged for more, cooing sweet nothings drunkenly at the lover she was only half aware of. She wasn't even regarding the tiny weasel on top of her as a man, rather just a thing with a cock attached that was giving her the fuck her body so desperately craved.

The weasel's cock was so inadequately slim though, she was barely stretched out. He was so short too, it looked kind of odd to see the tiny guy frantically spasming between the thick, voluptuous thighs of the gorgeous tigress as she moaned and bucked in a chemically induced orgasm. Finnick half wondered if that was how he looked when he was fucking a taller woman.

There was a vast difference though. He didn't need drugs to convince a woman to fuck him.

Moving past, he gritted his teeth and suppressed a growl. Just smelling the production plant below brought back all the horrid memories, never mind pondering the results of the operation. It was like a scented candle that reminded most guys of a pleasant childhood memory. In direct contrast, the smell and sounds brought Finnick back to the dark days of his childhood.

He'd lost both his parents to hard drugs. They weren't dead - not yet, anyway. Probably rotting in prison somewhere, or fooling themselves in rehab. He'd seen them shoot up for all of his childhood. In his teens they'd upgraded to stinking the apartment up with fumes as they produced the most disgusting stuff for the street gangs. Growing up in an environment like that forced you to mature fucking quick.

Finnick had heard a few weeks after he ran away from home that a drugs bust had landed both his folks in prison. They'd been so fucked up by producing and even sampling the produce they hadn't even mentioned they had a son out there somewhere, wandering the streets of Zootopia.

With a shuddering sigh, Finnick swallowed tears. Fuck crying. Now wasn't the time, and Finnick didn't want to waste the tears. Instead he channelled sadness into rage. With a white knuckled grip on his bat, he rested the thing across his shoulder and turned his daggers glare further into the penthouse door.

He'd deal with the asshole in charge first, then tip off the cops. They'd come and rescue the women from this depraved fate.

At the end of the hall, the penthouse opened up into a large living room littered with commodities and paraphernalia that were quite obviously stolen. And in the midst of it all was a large plush couch over which a familiar lioness was bent while a familiar fennec fox pumped his seed into her snatch from behind.

Finnick could see why he'd been mistaken for Slye, they were ludicrously similar. The same height, the same build, the same kind of striped pattern in their fur and even as Slye was grunting with pleasure it seemed they had the same sort of gravelly voice to boot. It was the subtle things that set them apart. Dress sense for one, even though Slye was naked and balls deep in the lioness at the moment. Eye colour was different too. And if you wanted to get ludicrously specific, Finnick was pleased to see Slye's cock was nowhere near as big as his. Frankly, Finnick could see why Slye needed a drug operation to ply women.

And he clearly had a shit personality to go with that tiny wiener of his... Finnick quickly realised he was a little bitter about his Friday night being ruined and pushed the dick-related criticisms for Slye from his mind.

The MILF of a lioness Slye had bent over his couch was admittedly a catch and a half. Leggy with sumptuous curves and a rather expensive taste in jewellery draped about her wrists and slender neck, this green-eyed lioness with long platinum blonde hair was impossible to mistake. It was Bethany Lionheart, the Zootopia mayor's wife!

Whenever Finnick had seen her in the news or at these big fancy charity events clinging to Mayor Lionheart's arm, Bethany Lionheart had been a well made up, prim and proper woman. Now she was rolling her eyes and drooling as a stranger's cock spurted the last of his seed into her womb.

Slye pulled back with a wet pop and slumped back into the couch looking a little proud of himself. That was when Finnick saw two more lionesses enter the scene. The first was small and relatively skinny. Easily just over the cusp of eighteen years of age, she was slim and leggy with a bob of platinum hair. She knelt immediately and lapped up the thick trails of cum bubbling out of her mother's pussy. Bethany gasped and moaned as Elise Lionheart's tongue worked with practiced skill that was rather sexy on its own. Just imagining where this light young lady's sexual experience came from was enough to make Finnick's mounting erection throb.

The final lioness was older, her long hair still voluminous but the greys in her fur betraying her age. She was however slender and lean, with a classy, old-school sort of elegance to her thanks to the long silk gown that hung open at the front, revealing her gorgeous naked body underneath. She even had a half-full glass of wine balanced between her delicate fingers in one hand, perfectly balanced as she strutted closer on stiletto sandals that defined the length of her sleek legs and the taught curves of her ass.

Bending forward, keeping the glass perfectly balanced, Bethany Lionheart's mother in law, Cassandra Lionheart sucked Slye's cock past her lips, cleaning the rod that was defiling three generations of woman from this particular lion's pride.

At the same time, Bethany and Elise were making out on the far end of the couch, swapping Slye's salty load back and forth. There was no doubt, these three were under the influence of that Nighthowler shit.

Seething, Finnick stepped forward with his bat on the ready when something jumped on his back.

One of Slye's peeps no doubt, the fucker drew Finnick's own bat across his throat and pulled trying to choke him out. But Finnick had gotten his forearm in the way. Stepping back he stomped on the offenders foot, then twisted from his grip, turning to realise it was the weasel fresh off an orgasm that painted the tigress' belly.

Finnick whipped around and smashed his legs out from under him, then stomped the floored weasel's face into the floor. By the time he turned back through, Slye was gone.

As were the women. All three of them could be heard screaming as they made their retreat into the fire escape. That was bound to make some noise, and Finnick wondered how many re-enforcements Slye had nearby, or how long it would take the cops to get here.

Hoping both eventualities would take their time to occur, Finnick rushed forward, scanning for Slye. As he was moving however, he didn't notice the striped ball of fur with a towel tied around his waist rush in from the side until it was too late.

Slye collided hard with Finnick, hard enough to knock him clean off his feet and both went sprawling across the crusty, shag carpet. With a swipe he managed to knock the bat from Finnick's hand, and what followed was a rain of blows to the face.

A few hundred hours pounding punch-bags at the gym had given Finnick the instinct to keep his fists raised, and many of the punches broke on his hands and forearms, but Slye had him pinned and slam after slam bashed him into the floor harder and harder. Some slipped through, catching Finnick in the side of the face, others sent lances of pain through his body as another fist caught him in the gut.

"I recognise you, 'ya little fuck!" Slye spat, punching and punching, fist after fist keeping Finnick nailed to the ground. "You were at the club! Just couldn't let it go, could you? Bet you saw that sexy tiger all over my dick and wanted a piece of that. Well too bad, dipshit! She's mine, like all the sluts hungry for my cock!"

"Get fucked!" Finnick seethed between the blows raining on him.

"Oh, I'm gonna. I got a whole lot of bored housewives looking for adventure and orgasms hooked on my shit. Nighthowlers when distilled right puts bitches in heat easy. They don't give a fuck, they just wanna guzzle cum in every way imaginable. And after they've had a taste of my dick, I can even sell 'em on the street as hoes. They'll do anything I tell 'em to, just for another taste of sex. It's quite eloquent if I do say so myself."

Finnick grunted then drove his knee up between Slye's legs. The rival fennec's eyes bugged and he doubled over with a muffled "Ooooomph!"

"I'll be honest," Finnick growled, rolling out from under Slye and kicking him in the face. "The scheme's a bit retarded by my standards."

Finnick was on his feet as Slye looked up and he kicked the scumbag in the ribs.

"I didn't even want to get involved." Finnick picked his rival up and held him close, snarling into the other fox's face. "But your dirty hustles ended up fucking with my night off. So, this is me fucking with you!"

He drove his knee into Slye's gut, then slammed him face-down on the edge of the coffee table. The fennec bounced off and slumped to the ground, dazed. When his vision stopped blurring, he groaned, dabbing his fingers against his bloody temple, then looked up and Finnick, who was standing over him with a sly smile and tossing a packet of the icy blue powdered drugs in one hand.

"I wonder if the Nighthowler effect is as potent on guys." Finnick mused. "Let's give 'er a whirl, eh?"

Doubling over he tore open the packet with one claw, then slammed the stuff down on Slye's face, grinding the powder into his mouth, nose and even his eyes. Slye's cries were muffled for a moment, then turned to groans. And before Finnick knew it, he was holding down his fellow man as a raging erection pushed open the fennec's towel.

He jumped back just in time. A moment later, Slye's cock started to erupt. Long, continuous unending streamers of cum started shooting from the bright red member. It was like puncturing a can of silly-string, ropes started shooting everywhere, slamming Slye in his own face, mingling with the carpet, mixing into the pools of drugs dusting the furniture. Finnick had to take two more large steps back so he wouldn't get tagged as well, and pulled a face. Maybe he'd overdone it.

Slye just kept cumming nonstop, his eyes wide with feral delight as he started frothing from the mouth, bright blue foam clinging to his chops and dribbling down his chin. Finally, after several long minutes, Slye stopped, wheezing and exhausted, he passed out on the spot, in a large puddle of drugs and sexual gratification.

Finnick would give anything to be a fly on the wall when the cops came to clean this mess up. And speaking of which. Finnick's large ears twitched, picking up the approaching noise of sirens. The fuzz were quick on this one. He wondered if Missus Lionheart had put in the call. Her voice was bound to get the coppers to jump into action quick.

Grabbing his fallen baseball bat in passing, Finnick let himself out. He descended to the ground floor in a fraction of the time it took him to climb, leaping over unconscious bodies and sliding through a low gap in the chainlink fence.

Finding his van where he left it, he quickly backed out the alley and drove off, making sure to mind his speed and use his turn signal at the intersections. Sure enough, as he left the district, a long line of ZPD cars rushing the opposite way, sirens wailing.

Finnick was way out of dodge by they time the cops pulled up to the apartment complex.

Saturday / 00:03 AM

Directing his van onto the side of some city limits junk-pile, Finnick pulled up the handbrake and killed the engine. Finally, he slumped back and with his eyes sagging tiredly, he let out the anxious breath he'd been holding.

He'd passed six cop cars on his way out, all of them sirens wailing and too concerned to pull him over for suspicion of under-age driving. By now the ZPD was probably cordoning off the area and clapping the irons on Slye.

Good fuckin' riddance.

Tiredly, Finnick climbed out of the driver seat, walked around the back of the van and opened the door. In the back he had everything he needed. His cot, his wardrobe, his mini fridge. All he needed was his very own fully sentient sex-bot and his bachelor life would literally be complete. But since those didn't exist yet, he suffered the Friday nights chasing tail.

Imagine his surprise as he climbed inside and stood stunned, staring at the three gorgeous females sitting on his cot. Three high society, lovely golden furred lionesses with platinum hair eyed him back, each woman of incremental age familiar from Slye's penthouse.

The Lionheart women quietly stared at Finnick, wondering how he was about to react.

To put it plainly, the reaction was quite natural. "What the literal fuck!?"

It didn't take a mastermind to figure out what had happened. Still, Bethany Lionheart explain in quickfire mode. They'd bounced at the first sign of trouble. Though naked and in a bad neighbourhood, they'd agreed the inconspicuous looking van was their best bet. It was open and they'd tried to find clothes among Finnick's things, but everything was too small. By the time they decided on an alternate plan, Finnick showed up and drove off.

"I guess we owe you our thanks for getting us out of that neighbourhood," Bethany said, her eyes narrowing as a smile crawled across her face. "It wasn't the kind of place you'd want to be caught without clothes."

She bit her lip, leaning to one side as if to show off the bare curves of her body a little more. Her daughter and mother-in-law were no more modest. Even with her gown, Cassandra made no move to cover herself up, rather letting the silk drape openly across her, only drawing more attention to her bare breasts.

"Well, it's been fun being of service. Now skidaddle!" he barked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "There's an altogether too high a ratio of junkies-to-sane people in my home right now."

"Wouldn't you rather we stick around?" Elise questioned. "We should thank you for helping us get away."

Finnick scoffed. "Yeah, I'll pass. I don't do druggies." As he said it, Bethany in particular wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"We weren't going to take Slye's shit." Something about the way she used course language made his erection throb harder in her hand.

"Then why were you spending time with that dickhead?" he asked, and she responded with a naughty smile.

"Girl's gotta have her adventures." The trio giggled and with a shove, planted Finnick in his cot. Bethany added, "We were just into it for the money and sex Slye was throwing about."

So, they were run of the mill, colour-by-numbers sluts! Imagine Finnick's surprise. He just rolled his eyes and let them hold him down.

Cassandra shut the van door, sealing them in while Bethany and Elise worked on the fox's pants. It didn't take all that much effort, and in moments Finnick's cock was gripped between Bethany's slender fingers and Elise's petite hand. Both rubbed absent mindedly up and down the shaft as their eyes widened with awe at the massive thing revealed to them. It was about as thick as Elise's slender forearm, and almost as long.

"Ohmygosh," the younger lioness blurted out with a hand over her mouth. "Look at the size of this thing."

Bethany purred in agreement, though there was a spark of familiarity in Cassandra's eyes. The old lady was clearly impressed, but then she looked like she'd seen, and probably felt, bigger.

"I've never had one this big before," Bethany admitted.

"And you won't," Finnick said pointedly, gesturing at the door. "Because you're going to leave now. I don't sleep with married women."

Bethany scoffed. "I'm not married."

That made Finnick frown. He hadn't heard of Mayor Lionheart's divorce. Only last week his lovely wife had been standing loyally at his shoulder while he delivered some inane political speech.

"I've been officially divorced for months now," Bethany explained haughtily, but still hungrily eying the delicious cock in her grip. "We kept it secret, at least until after the next mayoral election so not to hurt the mayor's popularity among the evangelicals."

"My husband passed away about five years ago," Cassandra added, clarifying her single status, and all eyes finally moved to the youngest lioness among them.

Elise darted forward, getting Finnick's face with a broad, lusty smile and said, "And I dumped by boyfriend weeks ago."

She then licked him lightly on the nose and delved face first back into his lap. For such a young woman, she had skills. Her lips wrapped about his shaft and she swallowed his cock with a loud gag, followed by a suppressed retching noise. She'd clearly never sucked a dick quite so big as Finnick's.

As she pulled away, some tears leaving runs of mascara down her cheeks, her mother and grandmother took over. It was a surreal thought in itself. But that was quickly overshadowed by Bethany's skilful rough tongue caressing the growing bulb swelling at the base of his shaft, and Cassandra's bottomless throat gulping down every slippery inch of his cock with barely any effort.

She clearly had plenty of miles on that tight wet throat of hers, as the older woman sucked it down, throaty gulp after throaty gulp like it was nothing. It was like a woman with absolute pussy control riding in his lap, Cassandra's tight throat constricting and massaging his member right down to the base where her full, soft lips were pursed tightly. Her tongue snaked along the shaft, making his head roll back as he sighed with pleasure. He wasn't one to usually let his stoic composure drop, but this time Finnick couldn't help himself.

He could probably comfortably tell the other two to fuck off, then lay Cassandra down and go absolutely to town on that divine throat of hers. But that would hardly be gentlemanly of him. Instead he sat back like a king on his throne and let them do whatever they desired.

As soon as Cassandra was done sucking, Elise jumped on Finnick first. Whipping around, she rode him reverse cowgirl, twerking her tight ass up and down, her tight young pussy stretched to breaking point over his cock. She was quite mindless in the ride, spluttering and moaning with a blank look in her face and a line of drool dribbling down her chin. Every so often her lovely girly features would twitch erratically, and those lovely eyes would cross quite sharply before a torrent of girl cum sprayed in a fountain across Finnick's lap. While she was shuddering and twitching, Finnick had to help her rise and fall, fingers wrapped around her slim waist and fucking her through orgasm after orgasm. After Elise gave a shrill squeal during her third squirt, Finnick decided to stop counting.

She was petite enough that a bulge appeared in her belly, which her mother was rubbing lovingly. A bulge that only swelled when Finnick clenched and left a sizeable deposit in her womb. It was all too much for her to keep inside and it gushed from her pussy when she stood and fell of Finnick's cock, a waterfall of cum cascading down into Cassandra's eager mouth.

While the older lioness was taking care of her granddaughter, Bethany took the opportunity to jump on too. Facing Finnick and bracing herself against his shoulders, she lowered her pussy onto Finnick's cock. That drooling mouth of arousal was cool with moisture, but her core promised a divine warmth. It was a slippery glove of silky flesh rippling with practiced muscles that clenched and loosened in their eagerness to suck Finnick's rod inside. She wasn't as tight as her daughter, but Bethany made up for it with a sense of composure. Instead of turning the whole thing into a rough, mindless event, she keened and moaned rather sweetly as she smoothly bounced in his lap. Finnick didn't have to even do any work.

Right up until he busted his next load into the MILF, Finnick just laced his fingers behind his head and enjoyed the ride with a smile.

A load sloshing in her daughter-in-law's belly, Cassandra wasn't about to let Finnick get off so lightly though. He seemed destined to work, and yanking him to his feet and propping him up on an upturned crate for some additional height, the mature lioness whipped around on hands and knees and pulled up the tails of her gown. That gorgeously curved ass on full reveal and her tail up high like a kitty in heat, Cassandra backed her ass onto Finnick's dick.

The first thrust missed, and he slipped into that wonderful cavity of soft flesh between the globes of her ass. Just rubbing along that crevasse, Finnick had to bite his lip hard so he wouldn't blow his load across her back. It took another attempt for him to spear open her dripping labia and press into the tight mouth of arousal within.

Cassandra was tighter than Bethany, not as tight as the youngest Lionheart girl, but still a nicely fitted glove of pussy to lose his cock in. Honestly, even after cumming twice already, it didn't take long for Finnick to work up to his last orgasm. Cassandra rocked back, taking his cock with a sense of grace no woman before her had ever done before. Even Bethany had rolled her eyes and let out a few foul curses as she squirted all over his dick.

Finnick actually couldn't tell at first when Cassandra came. Her movements were much more subtle as she smiled divinely over her shoulder at him. Her breasts, still firm despite her age, swung back and forth as she met his thrusts eagerly, with small moaning sighs. Her expression held happily though, and eventually she tightened, her pussy rippling up and down the entire length of Finnick's member.

He wanted to push all the way into that trembling orifice, press against her cervix and inject his seed into her womb. But Cassandra had clearly had her fun, and had something else in mind.

Sliding forward, she pulled off his cock with an audible, sopping wet pop. A puddle of her juices was visible on the floor between them, with large, fat drops beading on his red shaft and dripping down the sodden fur on his balls.

Cradling them in her slender hand, Cassandra pushed forward and swallowed his twitching cock. It was enough to get him off, as his knot swelled against her lips and she shot a load down into the woman's belly. She pulled back as the second rope of salty load filled her mouth, before Bethany and Elise got in on the action.

The younger lioness grabbed him by the shaft and directed it to hose her mother and grandmother's faces, before turning finick to blast her tits with whatever was left.

Watching his cum drip down the young woman, her mother and her grandmother, three generations of women he'd fucked and hosed with cum in a single sitting, Finnick couldn't help but smile. All in all, rather decent close to a rather decent Friday night.

FOXHUNT FRIDAY

###

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