FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Werewolf hunting is an art. It's a little disgusting, sure, and not always worth the risk. Sometimes you stumble home in half a pair of pajamas because your dumb ass didn't think to pack extra _extra_clothes. Sometimes there's not a goddess above or below that can save you from having to apply hemorrhoid cream for two months after a hunt.

Sometimes, though, there's nothing better in the world than a werewolf's load in the darkness. Better than an anonymous hookup app, right, and a bigger knot on the guy, guaranteed.

Plus, what we do saves lives. A night of distraction and blown-off steam for the wolf, and once the full moon passes, no one -- if all goes well -- gets hurt.

Tonight, I see my catch from across the parking lot. A movie theatre in a strip mall, just an absolutely nasty place for a werewolf to be running around in the middle of summer. The doors are locked and boarded, the kids are safely corralled, and all of the swear words in this or any other plane are being whispered from below sweat-soaked brows.

He's huge -- at least eight feet tall, wide as a Jovian moon, and brandishing claws sharp and long as kitchen knives. And then there's me, the short, stubby cat guy that somehow hasn't choked on a single mission yet. Or a single werewolf cock, for that matter.

I position myself just outside the parking lot, in a line of trees marking the edge of the pavement. The small copse is nothing compared to the forests outside city limits, right, but the wolves never stay up there. So it's our job as hunters to lure them back out of populated areas.

Or, failing that, to get knotfucked all night so no one's throat gets slashed by an errant flick of a claw.

I take a deep breath. I admit to myself that this part, the not knowing if you'll get torn apart on this or that particular hunt, never gets easier. And, hands shaky, mouth dry, I reach into my pack for a small spray bottle full of lab-created pheromones. I silently thank our genius lab tech and spray a fine mist into the air above me, then a second and third spritz onto my chest and groin.

I see the wolf's nose point skyward. I have seconds, now.

So I fucking run, right, of course I do. When hunting, you don't stop to see if the wolf is going to come after you. You _know_they are, you know there's nothing you can do to stop them when you're at the point that you've sprayed pheromones all over your body.

My paws slam onto the grass and rocks with all vim and vigor. All I have to do is make it out of town to the biggest forest in Sylvane County without being eaten or gored or ground to a paste. I hear the wolf howl, and despite my aching calves and burning lungs, I will myself to dash faster and my ears to swivel back to front.

My motorcycle is 20 yards away, and I know I'll be lucky if I make it there.

Wrenching my eyes shut, pushing myself to make it to the pavement, I pray for just a moment. And I open my eyes and there she is, my beautiful bike, the very thing that's going to keep me alive. I leap onto the seat, having left the keys in the ignition, knowing my crew is in a van just down the road, knowing they'll back me up at the end of the night.

I start the engine and zoom off. I don't even chance flicking my eyes down to the rearviews until I'm a mile down the road, far from where the strip mall sits with innocent lives huddled behind the popcorn machines and cash registers.

When I finally do take my look, I see a hulking grey shape taking up more and more space behind me, coming up faster and faster. The fury and passion in his eyes, themselves as red as his visibly growing knotted cock, strikes me as particularly violent, and my asshole clenches in anticipation.

With every yard he gains on me, 'I just need to make it to the forest' turns into 'I just need to make it past city limits' turns into 'I just need to get out of this neighborhood so I don't chance any poor families seeing me getting bred by a wolf monster.' I speed up anyway, zooming past parks and subdivisions and horse ranches as I approach the less-populated area of the city.

It's only when I can hear the wolf's heavy paws beating against the asphalt behind me that I take a sharp right turn into the lot of a small, empty park. I brake hard, coming to a stop just before the paved sidewalk, and run as fast and far as I can into the grassy clearing.

Not five seconds pass before the wolf is on top of me, snarling and gnashing his teeth behind my head. It'll be quick, now that I've got him. He tears into my clothes, ripping my shirt and pack to shreds, then moves down to my pants. With a roar and a rip, my bare, lubed-up ass is exposed to the world and the wolf, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Like I said: getting to save lives while getting the dicking of the century once a month is pretty fuckin' cool.

I feel his hot drool on my hole before the sting of his heavy cock. But once he thrusts forward, it's like there's nothing else in the world but his hard, meaty wolf dick. I groan, and he presses my head into the ground with one massive paw.

He's huge, right, like something out of a fetish toy catalog. He doesn't hold back, not from the first second he's inside me, and I feel my muscles and guts stretch to accommodate him. His strokes are long and rough as he ruts into me, his fat knot pressing against my hole with every thrust. My little cock is soft, but dripping, and I know that once he knots me, I can toss away all hope of coming out of this unscathed.

The taste of dirt, the smell of grass, I can toss it to the sidelines if I flick my ears to hear what the wolf is doing. His grunts, the pooling of his sweat and spit dripping onto my back and ass and head, the way he fucks me like I'm a doll to be used, a hole to be discarded, all only make me hornier.

Yeah. I'm gross. But everyone who signs the waivers and NDAs for this job knows what they're getting into.

He presses his body against me, wrapping a paw around my throat, and increases his speed. His girthy cock sends shivers and waves of pleasure down my legs, my cock twitching and dripping from the onslaught of dick in my ass. I start to gasp as I feel his knot start probing at my entrance, a little harder with every stroke. He's going to tie me soon, I know, and at that point there's nothing I can do but take his load.

With the werewolf bent over me, I can smell his rancid breath casting bony fingers in the humid night air. But I don't think I mind it so much from a wolf of his stature, speed, and girth. And I'm talking, like,girth.

The waves of heat and numbness centered in my groin and radiating out into the rest of my body, the wolf's hot panting, the dark grassy clearing that I can still smell from the wolf pushing my head into the dirt, all of that intensity, it grows white-hot. One, two, three thrusts break me open with the biggest knot I've ever taken. It's agony, and I would scream if I had a voice to scream with -- but I wanted this, and I still want this, and I know even if I didn't want it, there's a fucked-up part of me that thinks I deserve it.

With two more thrusts, his heavy balls tighten against his groin, and I feel his warmth as ropes of cum begin to paint my insides. He howls at our pockmarked moon, and I sit on his impossibly big cock as he unloads in me. There's something Biblical, right, about the way the levee breaks once the werewolf gets his knot in me. He cums for what seems like forever, my abused hole leaking his pups onto my legs, onto the grass, just squeaking past his knot.

And then it's over. The wolf, he collapses on top of me. And just as soon as I feel his tonnage crushing me, the crunch of tires on gravel causes my ears to instinctively swivel and face backwards. My team has arrived in our van, and just in time. The wolf's power is nothing compared to the tranquilizer dart that my teammate shoots from the car window.

Truthfully, I'm exhausted as all hell. So when I see the boots of my crew members as they take measured steps towards my postcoital pile of fur, I let my exhaustion overtake me and my eyes fall shut.