FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Amelie used Packy's enormous wall mirror opposite the bar to glance over her rival a half-dozen stools away. Even on Sumer TM, one of the largest orbital constructs in civilized space, large floor spaces still could command premium prices. So Packy, the bar's owner and namesake, used many strategically placed mirrors to give the illusion that his drinking establishment was even bigger than it seemed while keeping his rent at a reasonable rate.

But there she was. Selmar. That bitch who was trying to steal Boaz away from her.

Not that Boaz was hers. Not yet. But it was all a matter of time, unless that spotted-furred harlot kept getting in the way.

Amelie cut her eyes at the other female's reflection, confident she wouldn't be caught with all the other patrons milling about the bar. She supposed Selmar had an adequate figure and the civet girl's short-muzzled face wasn't too repulsive. Her rival also had long auburn-brown hair, smooth, golden fur with speckles of large brown spots strewn across it, a long bushy tail that fluttered up every few minutes as if to entice passing males.

Amelie caught her own reflection in the mirror, holding her chin high. Lush dark brown fur, a lighter undercoat, silky purple hair that marked her ancestry as a felinoid from the planet Loam. She wore a skirt of sensible length and a blouse that gave a teasing hint of cleavage rather than just let it all hang out. Bright cheery colors and a friendly smile, not a trampy black miniskirt dress like the other female wore.

Amelie wore what a female should wear if she were after men's hearts. Selmar wore what a females would use when they were after an organ much lower on a male's body.

"Heeeeey pretty girl!" slurred a familiar voice behind her. "Amelie! Lookitchu!"

She turned to see Reynolds, a tall yellow-and-black striped lemur, her boss at the Trade Consulate, looking more than a little inebriated. And worse, his eyes were roaming up and down her figure predatorily.

Reynolds was decent enough when he actually concentrated on doing his job. At his best moments that he could possibly even fit loosely into the 'decent guy' category. But unfortunately he was usually too busy chasing everything in a skirt within a hundred meters of the office, including, unfortunately, herself. She'd lost count of the times he had tried to look up her skirt or down her cleavage or catch her in some lecherous double-entendre.

But she was loathe to be sent back home to Loam, and that meant keeping her job at the trade consulate. And that, unfortunately, meant putting up with Reynold's clumsy advances.

Now, after office hours and thoroughly soused, Reynolds did not even have any of his usual restraint, which wasn't saying much. His eyes drilled right into her furry cleavage, his leering smile as broad as space. "Heh, I was wondering if you ever got out and had some fun, a button-downed cold fish like you!"

"Mr. Reynolds, please, I think we'd better..." She blinked, stopping herself in mid-rebuff. "Did you just call me a cold fish?"

He giggled like a schoolgirl, one arm hooking over her shoulder and hanging dangerously close to her bosom. "You kiddin' me, Amy?"

"Amelie!" She hated the shortened version of her name.

"You kiddin' me, Ham-ill-lee? We gots a pool goin' in the off-fuss ta see when and if you'll ever get laid. Six months now, and nothin'. Half of us think you belong to some virginity cult, or something."

She winced at his gin-soaked breath. "I'm not a virgin! I'm just...just careful, is all."

He laughed heartily as only the drunk can. "You be anymore 'careful,' that Boaz guy you've been crushing on is gonna go find easier fields to plow, if you know what I mean." His hand slipped over her breast, giving it a squeeze. "But don't you worry, I look after my people. I can make sure you, heh, stay in practice for him..."

Her fists balled. That slimy satyr! If she were back on Loam she'd hire a wizard to turn him into something small and leggy that would crunch loudly under her heel...

She sighed. But she wasn't on Loam, that was the whole point. Carefully, trying to restrain the murderous rage that would no doubt get her fired, she uncoiled his arm from around her. "Um, that's very nice, Mr. Reynolds, but I'm afraid I'll have to de--"

Her words died away when she noticed Selmar was gone from her seat a few stools over. She looked about desperately, and saw the civet just as she was heading toward the bar's exit, alone.

Amelie was sure there was only one place on the station that tramp would go dressed like that without an escort--Boaz's quarters.

She pushed desperately away from her boss. "Sorrygottagobye!"

Reynolds started after her. She didn't need some drunk barfly stalker, not NOW. She summoned her magic to her. With a faint flash of light from everywhere on her body, she transformed into her small, housecat-sized, quadripedal form. There was only a moment's discontinuity for her, much like blinking the eyes. One moment, she was pushing through thronged bodies. A blink later, she was leaping nimbly through a sea of legs.

She reached the exit door and leaped through just as an Ursine couple were walking through. Thankfully, Reynolds hadn't followed her. Chances were, given his current level of inebriation, he was probably completely unaware she has slipped into a different form.

She hoped the transformation would be worth it. Here on Sumer, so far away from Loam's nourishing ley lines, people from her world had to carefully husband their magical energies and save them for when they were truly needed.

Amelie spotted Selmar just as the civet female was turning a distant corner. She bounded down the steel corridors after her quarry, none of the station personnel or guests giving her a second glance. Small predatory animals similar to her housecat form were popular pets on Sumer. Vermin inevitably arrived on the hundreds of starships that passed through every day, and small domesticated predators were seen as a low-impact way of containing the problem.

Selmar pulled out a small cellphone and began a long, rambling conversation. Amelie could just barely hear the voice on the other end. Not Boaz, thank the fickle gods. Some female named Natalie. She couldn't be quite sure, but it almost sounded like Natalie Fenkirk, the station commander. What would that little tramp be doing knowing the highest ranking official on the Trade Matrix?

The cellphone conversation became as exercise in aimless wandering down one corridor after another as Selmar talked and talked. Amelie stayed with the Civet, just in case she decided to try for Boaz' apartment after she was done. She just wished Selmar would hurry up. The clock was ticking on how long she could maintain her feral form with so little magic reserves to draw on.

Selmar wandered down a seldom-trafficked maintenance tunnel when three burly males, two Equines and a wolf, stepped out of the shadows behind her. She was so engrossed in talking they she never noticed them until they leveled a sonic stunner at her. A burst of hyper-dense sound later and she crumpled to the deck, unconscious.

Amelie winced and yowled in pain as the sonics from the weapon washed over to her. Her hearing was much more acute in this form than in her larger bipedal one. She clamped her paws over her ears and could do little more for the pain than to just roll on her side and writhe.

She blinked, sensing an odd change in the world around her. The pain in her ears slowly ebbed. She became slowly aware of her surroundings again she saw that the males were now standing over her, leering down at her with half-lustful, half puzzled looks. "Holy fuck, d-d-d-did you see th-th-that?" one of the tall, dark-maned equine said. "A sh-sh-shapeshifter!"

Amelie started and looked down at her body. She was in her normal form again! That sonic stunner must have broken enough of her concentration that she had slipped back into her true form. And she didn't have enough magic to change back!

Her eyes darted about wildly, looking for an avenue of escape, but the males surrounded her, leveling their weapons at her midriff. All she could do was look up at them with trembling lips. "Please, um, don't hurt me?"

"Oh don't worry about that, miss," the dark-furred lupinoid laughed as the large equinoids each grabbed one of her arms with vise-like grips and hauled her to her feet. "One thing we never do is damage the merchandise unless we have to. And we're not going to have to with you, because you're not going to give us any trouble. Right?" He tapped her under the chin with the barrel of the stunner.

At this range the weapon would shatter her eardrums and liquefy her frontal lobe. All she could do was utter a small mousesqueak of a "right."

---

They tied up her wrist and arms. One of the Equines flopped Selmar's unconscious body over his shoulder, and the three of them hauled both females down a number of little-used maintenance corridors to what appeared to be their base of operations, a dusty and disused storage room. There, they were greeted by the leader of the gang, a roan-furred panther.

He looked over the two captured females, whistling low. "Nice haul. Better than the lower-deck trash you lot usually pick up."

The wolf pushed Amelie forward. "This one shapechanges! She turned from a housecat into a felinoid in an eyeblink!"

The panther gave his cohort a skeptical stare. "Oh, come on."

"She did!" the shorter, stockier equine with the white fur said. "One moment she was like, 'bamf, I'm a housecat!", then the next it was like, 'bamf, I'm a big-boobed girl in a dress!'"

"Shapechanging doesn't work like that. You can't just alter mass like that unless..." His eyes narrowed on Amelie's. "Are you from Loam, girl?"

"Don't hurt me," she squeaked, shrinking under the scrutiny of his hard gaze.

He snarled in her face. "Are you?"

Tears leaked from her eyes. "Y-yes. I'm from Loam. Its--its my magic, I can change into a small feral form..."

The panther pulled back, smiling. "Excellent. An exotic commodity like you will bring quite a high price."

She blinked. "P-price?"

"We're slavers, girl. Couldn't you guess? Good news for you, in a way. We won't hurt you unless we have to. Damaged goods lowers your value." He pulled out a long, wicked-looking carbon-steel knife and hovered it by her ear. She shivered. "The bad news, of course, is that we WILL hurt you if we have to. Gut you like a trout and toss you out the airlock while you're still trying to gather up your intestines. We've done it before. So no disobedience or stupid attempts to escape, understand?"

Throat parched dry, she nodded vigorously. Oh gods, what was she going to do?

"Wh-what about-t th-this one?" the tall, dark-furred equine stuttered, patting the still unconscious Selmar on the rump as she lay over his broad shoulder like an inert sack of produce.

The leader walked around and looked her over, nodding. "Also a damn fine specimen. Too bad we only have one cold berth left on our ship. It'd be a pain in the ass to decant any of the others at this stage, and the shapechanging Loaman is worth far more. We can just tag and release her."

The wolf raised a shaggy eyebrow. "Tag and release?"

"You're still new, Grant, you haven't had to do that yet. We'll implant a tracking chip and hit her with a memory-eraser that'll wipe the last twelve hours from her mind. Then we'll dump her in a park or something. She'll wake up thinking she probably just had a hell of a bender last night. Then when we come back to Sumer we'll use the chip to find her again." He ran his hands over the unconscious civet's shapely rump. "Too bad. That is one fine ass. Worth at least five hundred credits..."

"She-she used to be a FURN." Amelie blurted. "You know, from Geode."

The panther's eyes opened wide. "No shit?" He peered more closely at Selmar, looking around her neck and ear. "I'll be damned. There's a serial number tattoo on her inner ear and wear marks around her neck from a collar."

"A FURN?" the wolf asked, licking his black lips. "I heard Geode taught them all kinds of nasty little sex secrets..."

A FURN--a Field Utilized Recreational Nexus--was a military morale specialist employed by the Geodan military to meet and satisfy soldiers' 'biological urges' so they could more fully focus on their jobs. On paper, at least. In practice, the FURNs were sex slaves employed by that world's military, the modern-age equivalent of camp-follower whores employed by ancient armies. But oddly, Geode took the FURNs' role very seriously, and trained them so they could perform their function to a degree any three aged prostitute would envy. Their sexual prowess and skills were legend throughout civilized space.

The slaver leader whistled low. "Damn. If she is a FURN she'd bring ten times..." his eyes suddenly narrowed on Amelie. "Hey! You're trying to get us to take her instead of you, aren't you?"

Amelie meeped and shrunk into herself, hunching her shoulder. "Um, w-would that be so bad, if she's more valuable than me? You said you'd mind-wipe the one you didn't take, so what would it matter to you?" Besides, she thought furiously, maybe, gods willing, this could actually work out for her. With Selmar out of the way, Boaz would be all hers. And even if she didn't remember this, she was sure she'd be rotated off the station before the slavers returned.

The panther rubbed his mahogany-furred chin. "Hm. Suppose not. But truthfully I don't know if she'd be worth more than you or not. A shape-changing magical girl is as an exotic commodity as a former FURN."

The short white-furred equine smiled. "We could decide it with a, heh, beauty contest."

The panther twirled his knife on his hand expertly as he thought it over. "You're right. Clod, take care of the FURN. I'll take care of Miss Hocus Pocus here."

"What are you..." Amelie shrieked when the slaver leader slashed out at her with the blade, then trembled, half in relief and half in outrage, when she saw he had only cut a large gash out of the front of her dress. A few more uncannily precise cuts and the fabric fluttered away, leaving her only in her small white shift and panties.

The panther looked her over with a bemused expression. "No, I don't suppose a Loaman girl would wear a bra, would she? Probably has a spell to keep everything nice and perky."

She grumped. Well, yeah, she did have that little enchantment, she'd had to save up three months wages to have it done. But she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of answering him. She had little time to act petulant, however, as a few more quick slashes and tatters of her shift and panties were pooling at her feet, leaving her completely naked to her captors.

Amelie felt herself shivering and blushing deep, the bright red radiating from her cheeks shining right through her thin facial fur as she squirmed in her bonds. She felt the males' eyes drilling right into her most private spots. She drew in a trembling breath, only to stop herself midway when she realized it was making her generous breasts judder provocatively.

She glanced over and saw Selmar was naked now too, but at least they kept her clothes intact when they removed them. They sat both females up on crates in more-or less the same position. "Well?" asked the leader.

"The FURN's hotter."

"Yeah. Shit, look at those tits"

"You kidding me? The magic girl's much better. Definitely cuter."

The panther rubbed his chin. "Yeah, I'd pick the magic girl too. So they're tied. There might be another criteria we could check for..." He suddenly kneeled and spread Selmar's legs, bending forward to inspect the civet's sex closely. Then he shifted over, his hands on Amelie's knees. The Loaman female yeeped and clamped her legs together as hard as she could.

The panther raised an eyebrow at her and tapped the knife now sheathed on his hip belt. "What did I tell you about disobeying us? Sucking vacuum is a very unpleasant way to go, you know."

Her eyes widened, then, sucking her lip tightly, she reluctantly spread her legs for him. Her cheeks burned hotly in humiliation as she could feel his rough fingers on the outer lips of her sex, his fetid breath on her sensitive flesh.

"Neither one's a virgin," he said. Suddenly he looked up at her. "Have you ever had it up the ass?"

She gaped at him, her neck fur spiking out in shocked outrage. "You...animal! Of course I haven't!"

He straightened, patting her patronizingly on the cheek. "Good to know. Anal virginity isn't as valuable as the other kind, but it will still add a few hundred credits to your price."

She looked away, silently damning herself. Stupid! Why had she said anything?

The leader turned back to he other slavers. "Still too close though. Guess we'll have to fuck them to see which one's the better lay."

"What!" Amelie screeched. This could not be happening!

The equines sniggered and leered. The leader began undoing his pants. "Okay, the only thing is, Ms. Hocus-Pocus' ass if off limits. Can't be damaging the virgin goods. Now why don't you guys get started on the FURN while I see just how magic our little kitty here is."

"Hey!" interjected the wolf. "How come you get her and we get the unconscious slut? Passed-out girls aren't any fun!"

"Hey, I'm in charge of this operation!"

"Yeah, and you still owe me three hundred credits from that strip joint last week! How about owning up by letting me have first pick?"

"And what about us?" the short equine said. "Don't we get any say, either?"

The Panther held up his hands, placatingly. "Okay, okay, don't mess your pants over this. Look, how about a few quick hands of poker? Whoever wins the most hands gets first pick, second place gets second pick, and so on. That's fair, ain't it?"

The other males grumbled, but eventually agreed. The group of them moved over to a table on the other end of the room as the leader began shuffling a deck of cards.

Amelie thought furiously. What was she going to do? She could probably escape her bonds; part of her inborn magic was that the claws on her right hand could cut through just about anything. But once free of her bonds, then what? She was not any kind of skilled fighter, and all the males were bigger and stronger than her. All she could do was hurt them, and that would probably only make them mad enough to kill her.

It was strange, the prospect of being raped worried her least. Even an hour ago she would have thought she would be hysterical at this moment, but since she had been captured, she knew it was going to be inevitable. For the moment, she accepted it. Her priority now was trying to figure out some way to stay alive and not be sold into slavery.

The males said they were going to pick whichever of the two females was the best lay. But just by being awake, she was going to react more than the unconscious Selmar, and that would certainly entice these sadistic brutes more. She had to try and wake the civet! She was sure the former FURN would impress the males much more. IF she was awake.

She reached out a leg to nudge at the civet girl. To her horror, Selmar slid out of her seat onto the floor. Thankfully she didn't flop over, but just kind of slumped forward onto her knees, leaning like a loose sack of fruit back against the crate. Amelie's ears tapered back as she spared a quick glance at the males across the room. The two equines had noticed Selmar fall, but just shrugged their shoulders and went back to their game.

Amelie sucked on her lip. Now what? If slumping to the floor hadn't woken Selmar, nothing probably would. But she had to do something.

Maybe...if she were dry and Selmar was wet...

Amelie slid to the floor herself, kneeling and angling herself back to back to Selmar. With her hands tied behind her back, it was the only way she could get to the parts of her rival that she needed to.

Sweet gods of irony, how had it come to this, lying on a filthy floor, trying to get at another female's sex with her tied hands, to escape a life of slavery?

Still, she had to try. She scooted up behind the civet, and very easily found the former FURN's bushy tail and followed it up to her rump. It was surprisingly soft and curvy. She had only felt guys' buns before, and they were invariably hard and muscular--at least that's the way she liked them on males. But she had never touched a female like this before. It was very...different. Soft and more than a little pleasant.

She shook her head. She had to concentrate!

Amelie scooted even closer to her fellow prisoner, stretching back and working her fingers between Selmar's furry thighs. It was easy enough to find Selmar's sex. She also knew that stroking it, whether the civet was conscious or not, would cause her to lubricate. It was as much an autonomous bodily response as a male getting an erection. Women just did not like to advertise the fact.

Amelie knew what movements made herself react pleasantly, and tried to mimic them on Selmar. Her slim fingers slicked up the small slit on the civet girl's sex. The shape of things were familiar, but it was still very different. Selmar's lips were irregular, slightly puffy even before she began to dilate. Amelie could feel how soft the fur of her thighs were, felt the curves of Selmar's shapely rump against her forearm.

Then she felt it; drops of oily wetness on her fingertips. She gasped despite herself. She had not anticipated getting excited herself, but she couldn't help it. She felt a familiar warmth spreading in her own body, slight tingles from her own sex as she worked Selmar's pussy. Almost as if she were masturbating herself by proxy.

She suddenly felt the other female stir, a soft moan escaping the civet's lips. Amelie stopped her movements, but then, almost unconsciously, the former FURN wiggled her pussy back onto Amelie's fingers. No doubt someone with Selmar's history was well used to waking up to sex play. The purple-haired Loaman girl gladly began her finger play again, slipping a finger into Selmar's slick tunnel.

Selmar moaned again, but the inevitable question formed on her lips. "Wha--what's goin' on?"

"Shhh!" Amelie whispered. "We've been captured by slavers. They're going to come back and rape us any minute. I was just trying to..." She thought furiously. "Trying to make sure it didn't hurt you so much."

Selmar's eyes flicked over to the males across the room, nodding. Amelie was amazed at how calm the civet seemed to take in the situation. But then, she had been a slave for years. "Okay," she whispered. "Actually, that's not a bad idea. When they come, try to block them out and think of someone you like instead. It'll help a little." Selmar moved back, her own fingers moving under Amelie, slicking along the purple haired feline's sex. The Loaman girl yelped, but the intense pleasure of the touch quickly turned it into a soft, sensuous mew.

Selmar seemed to know exactly where and how to touch her for maximum effect. Fingers circling around her labia, feather-light, then spiraling in to rub against the slick, sensitive inner walls with just a single fingertip. Every dozen heartbeats or so Selmar would work up to Amelie's puffy clitoris, tweaking it softly between two fingers, before going back to exploring her inner folds.

Amelie was soon writhing and moaning softly in ecstasy. She did to Selmar what Selmar did to her, fingers dancing on soft pink flesh. Soon both females were sweating and gasping in their sexual exertions.

Amelie spotted the males finish their game and move toward them. She heard the males talking and boasting about what they were about to do, screwing her eyes tightly shut, Selmar's exquisite fingers on her sex slowing and stopping. She heard the males laugh derisively when they saw what she and Selmar had been doing.

Amelie knew this moment had been coming since she had been taken prisoner. She prayed to the gods to give her the strength to live through it. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to face the reality of it.

She felt herself being grabbed up by strong hands, being splayed on her back over the crate she had just been sitting on. Rough fingers gripped her thighs and pulled them apart. "Okay, magic girl, let's see how you like my magic wand," the panther said, accompanied by snickers all around. A paw slicked at her moistened sex, causing her to inhale sharply.

Think of someone she liked instead, Selmar had said. No, that wasn't some panther slaver, she thought desperately. That was Boaz, playing with her, taking her roughly like she always dreamed of.

The paw slicked up and down her pussy, eventually slipping in to feel her depths. The brutal violating finger was in sharp contrast to Selmar's feather-gentle stroking of only a few moments before. She screwed her face tighter, not wanting to react, but she couldn't help but moan softly. Selmar had excited her too much, that she couldn't help how her body was reacting, even if her mind desperately wished it was happening under other circumstances.

The paw on her sex was soon replaced with something hotter, blunter, pulsing against her sensitive lips.

It was Boaz, She repeated to herself relentlessly. It was Boaz. It was Boaz...

Suddenly she was penetrated, the sensations deep within her folds sharp and intense as she was stretched wide and invaded. She cried out. Her mind screamed for a moment, unable to deny the reality of the filthy slaver panther in her, but she quickly pushed the thought out of her mind. It was too horrible. Boaz was the one sliding into her, his tool bigger than she ever thought it was, rough and demanding as a powerful male's should be. She opened wide for him.

Hands found their way on her breasts, cupping her heaving mounds and squeezing hard as she was taken. But the angle was wrong. She could still feel the panth--Boaz's hands on her hips, sliding under to feel her tawny ass as he pumped wildly away.

The new male--fairly large, from the size of the hands, probably one of the equines--caused her desperately wrought fantasy to falter. If that was Boaz taking her, then who was this new male feeling her furry tits? She needed another pleasant male to maintain the armor of her fantasy.

Reynolds, her mind instantly answered. Maybe she had rebuffed her boss's crude come-ons without fail, but she was always flattered by them nonetheless. And he would certainly appreciate being with her, and treat her right, she was sure.

Her head was tipped back so that it hung over the edge of the crate. A thick, blunt shaft pressed at her maw, smearing hot moisture at its tip onto her lips. She opened her mouth for it, for Reynold's cock, silently urging her boss to fuck her mouth with abandon. The thick shaft slid deep into her mouth, along her tongue, nudging the entrance of her throat before pulling back almost out. Then it slid in again, over and over.

She knew she shouldn't be feeling any real pleasure at this raping of her body, but Selmar's fingers beforehand and her own vivid mental imaging was turning the tide against her. She had been double-teamed by males once before, and had loved it. Her body remembered the pleasure subconsciously, even if she may not want to acknowledge it consciously.

Muscular furry hips constantly brushed up against her taut clit with every savage thrust, the tip of the cock bumping her uterus deep within her every time. The hands on her breasts, each nipple now between a thumb and forefinger, as hard as little pebbles. Her lips dripping generously with her saliva and the salty pre-cum of the thick member sliding in and out of her maw.

She heard another female cry out. Selmar. Unconsciously, she opened her eyes briefly. The civet was splayed over a crate like she was, but on her stomach instead of on her back. The largest equine hand an ankle in each hand, pulling her legs wide apart, as his enormous tool savaged her dripping cunny with pumping thrusts that sent her whole body quivering. The wolf was at her mouth, hands digging into her ears, as he dragged her mouth on and off his angry-red member.

She closed her eyes hastily, lest she catch more than a brief glimpse of the two males accosting herself and break her thinly-held illusion.

Claws dug into her bottom as her hips were physically lifted off the crate, the male--Boaz!--working her pussy machining into her mercilessly, his strangled cries coming with every ragged breath now. The cock in her mouth, though, surprisingly still wasn't going too deep. It was if the male--Reynolds--knew just when to stop so she wouldn't gag and choke. The hands at her tits were soon clutching at them spasmodically, the pace of the mouth-fucking picking up exponentially. Both males were feeding off each others' growing passion.

Suddenly the cock in her pussy slammed in to the hilt and held there, stretching her even wider than before as it expanded for a moment than spasmed powerfully. Thick jets of sticky seed exploded into her. She felt the gooey warmth of the insemination spread through her pussy, seeping into her womb.

The vibrations of the one male's climax spread through her body and seemed to transfer to the other, setting him off.

He gave her soft tits one final, painful squeeze, his hips giving quick, short machine-gun thrusts until he finally jammed his tool into the back of her throat. The cock spasmed, unloading its sticky, whitish seed. It was too far in for her to taste anything; all she felt was gooey warmth bubbling down her throat directly into her stomach.

When he finally withdrew, she coughed and gagged for breath, finally tasting the bitter-salty flavor of equinoid cum.

"Very nice, magic girl," the panther (no, Boaz!) said, shivering as he emptied the last of his seed into her. "But all of us have to do both of you before we can really compare fairly..."

The males withdrew. She rubbed her thighs together as she listened to the other pair work quickly toward a climax with Selmar. Oh gods, she was horny, but she really didn't want to endure that again. She could only fool herself so much...

"Stop right there!" the panther--Boaz--called.

Her eyes popped open. No, that actually was Boaz's voice!

She sat up to see Station security troops pouring into the room, weapons drawn on the slavers. Boaz was with them, shouting orders. "I Repeat: Stop Immediately! Arms in the air! Let the females go, and no sudden moves!"

The slavers all swore, but they all eventually complied. Selmar scrambled and pulled herself free from the large equine cock. But as soon as his still-erect tool popped free of her, the equine slaver winced and cried out, unable to control himself, shooting cum half-way across the room. The spray caught three different officers on their uniforms. That earned him a rather savage beating.

The other slavers didn't dare offer any resistance after that.

Amelie started crying in relief. She couldn't help it, tears just kept welling up in her eyes no matter how hard she tried to stop. Surprisingly, it was Selmar who came over to comfort her. Both of them were wrapped in blankets by the sympathetic officers at this point and hugged each other tight. Selmar whispered knowing words of comfort to her. Amelie got the sense that the Civet had offered similar comfort to other victims like her many times, probably during her long years as a FURN.

It helped, but it also made her feel much worse, in a way. She had been so willing to think the worst of Selmar, tried to get her taken into slavery instead of herself, yet here was her rival unselfishly trying to comfort her.

Boaz came forward from the main body of officers tending to their new prisoners. He comforted both girls, but only tentatively. He seemed embarrassed and unsure of what to do, seemingly taking his words and actions out of a police manual he'd read during training.

Nothing the slavers could have done to her could have hurt as much as Boaz's self-enforced distance from her.

---

The police took her statement, collected the 'evidence' from her body, let her clean up in their showers at the station, and escorted her home. Boaz was with her the whole time, and did the same for Selmar after they dropped her off.

Amelie huddled in her bed and cried for a long time afterward. She got up and showered half a dozen times during the night. She had to be at work in the morning. She should really just call off, explain what happened. Maybe even take vacation.

Ultimately she decided to go in. She needed something safe and familiar, and her routine at work seemed very comfortable to her at the moment.

When she got to the trade consulate office, everyone acted very normally. News of what had happened to her must not have made it onto the newsnets yet, and she certainly wasn't going to tell anyone. They usually withheld rape victims' names anyway, unless there were mitigating circumstances.

Mr. Reynolds poked his head out of his private office. "Amelie?" he called after her. "Can I see you for a few minutes?"

She quietly shuffled into the office and closed the door behind her. Her eyes drilled the floor. "Y-yes?"

Reynolds sighed from behind his desk. "Amelie, I guess... I'd just like to apologize for last night. I know you put up with a lot from me, but there's a difference between some flirting in the office and my very crude come-on to you last night at the bar. My being a bit tipsy is no excuse. I just wanted to let you know that I really hope it won't affect the professional relationship we have. I only flirt with you because, well obviously, I like you, and I value having you..."

"Mr. Reynolds?"

"Yes?"

"Could you stand up please?"

He gave her an odd look, but did so. Instantly she ran into his arms, crying her eyes out. The fact that Reynolds had been the one she chose for her desperate fantasy had been preying upon her for hours as well. There had to be something about him, maybe, something her subconscious had been trying to tell her.

He blubbered about awkwardly, not knowing what to say as her tears soaked his business shirt. But he held her close. She hesitantly blurted out everything that happened to her the night before.

After she calmed down, and gone through half the tissues in the box in his office, he quietly spun her around to sit on his desk. "Look, Amelie, that's awful. Don't worry about work right now. Go home, and we can..."

"No," she said, shaking her head and messily wiping her eyes on her sleeves. "I came to work to get away from my apartment. Being alone was driving me crazy. Besides, I kind of needed to come here to...to thank you."

"Me? What did I do?"

"When I had to try and think of someone else like Selmar said, you and Boaz were the only ones that came to mind. During the whole thing, you were the one who was gentle--well, gentler."

"But that wasn't me."

"Sh," she said, finger on his lips. "And afterward, when the real Boaz came, he didn't say anything."

"He didn't comfort you at all?"

"He did, but it felt hollow. Insincere. He did it because he thought he had to." Her eyes shifted low. "And maybe I deserved that. That whole time I was with the slavers, all I could think of was trying to make them take Selmar instead of me. Gods, I'm such a bitch."

Reynolds grumped. "Look, you can't think like that. In those sort of circumstances, you probably had little other choice."

"That doesn't matter." She pressed herself close to him. "Reynolds...could you do me a favor?"

"W-what?"

"Make love to me?"

He goggled, stuttering. "A-Amelie. Um, what... Look, you're obviously under a lot of stress..."

"Are you saying no?"

He blinked at her rapidly. "Um...no. But after all that happened, why?

She looked away. "Because we both have seen stories like this before. The girl withdraws, gives up sex and intimacy for a long time while she deals with things. Well, I don't want to give those slaver the satisfaction. I don't even want them to have that victory. The only way to make sure I don't falter about sex is to get right back on the horse, so to speak. And if--if Boaz won't be there for me, I want at least one good male who will be. So what do you think?"

He already had half her shirt unbuttoned by the time he finished saying 'yes.'

---

That was...better.

She lay nestled in the crook of Reynold's furry shoulder as they lay naked on his broad desk, its former contents scattered on the floor. Not surprisingly, her boss was snoring quietly. For all his bluster, he obviously didn't get laid that often, and probably not three times in a row.

She had to give him credit though, he had really put her at ease. That first time, she had been so tense and self-conscious that he had trouble getting into her. He had wanted to quit, fearing hurting her, but she kept insisting. But afterward--especially after she had finally had an orgasm after all the previous day's sexual activity--she had really been able to relax and really get into it.

She had always heard about older guys from her girlfriends, but now she knew a lot of what they said was true--they did know their way around the female body a lot more than younger males. He was also more patient and more thorough than any of her other lovers. What older males may lack in sleekness they make up for in experience.

Still, she could not tell yet if she and Reynolds could have anything real that would ever work out in the long term. Her sleeping with him was as much a retaliation of sorts against her rapists as anything else, to show them that they hadn't taken anything away from her, including her wanting sex. Reynolds for now had literally been a convenient penis for her.

She had no idea about what to do about Boaz, or Selmar, or her inevitable notoriety as a near-victim of slavers. Maybe she should take some time off like Reynolds suggested. Clear her head, get what she wanted straight in her own mind. But until she knew for sure one way or another she at least had Reynolds for now. Any port in an emotional storm.

Amelie snuggled up to her boss, and for the first time since her ordeal began the night before, was able to relax and doze off gently into a deep slumber.