FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Fucking up at work. Everyone worries about it, everyone does it. Some people bounce right back. Not you. "It takes ten attaboys to make up for one ohshit", they used to say back in the army.

Your ohshit was a pretty big one. You don't like to think about it. You weren't distracted, you weren't daydreaming. You were just in a hurry. No one caught it until your boss was doing a presentation for the board of directors. He hasn't said anything, but the looks are enough. You're going to get fired.

It's hard to sleep at night. It keeps coming back on you, like food poisoning. Just when you think you've managed to distract yourself, there it is again. Your fuckup looms over you. Well, you're going to do something about it. You had vacation set up anyway. You just didn't plan to go to Africa.

"Welcome to Tame Camp," says the greeter. White teeth are bright in his ebony face. A black and gray animal the size of a medium dog is sitting up on its haunches next to him, grinning and chatting with the other tourists. It has long curved claws and sharp meat-eating teeth.

You can't look away from the yellowed fangs, the pink tongue. You get a glimpse of a purple gullet and imagine what it'd be like to slide down it.

The camp's web site has a safety video. The Very Friendly Cheetah hacking up a mass of clothes from a tourist who didn't follow The Rules and ended up inside her. It's supposed to be a warning. For some, it's an advertisement.

Some people go through life and never live out their deepest fantasy. You used your fuckup at work as the motivation to live yours.

You and a dozen other tourists sit around a bonfire. Animals appear and disappear in the flickering shadows, watching you. A pair of leopards, hyenas, at least two great-maned lions and an equal number of lionesses. A cape buffalo, the most dangerous of the Big Five, just a block of shadows and a glimpse of horns. The great shape that can only be an elephant. Two hippos. Others. Waiting.

You sit through the safety briefing. It's mandatory. The animals are friendly, the guide explains. The Camp is a place of truce. That means the animals won't attack each other here, or attack you. It's also a place they use as a vacation as much as they humans do. Maybe that gazelle over there always wanted to fuck a lion. Here's the place she could do it safety. And if you've always wondered what it'd be like to fuck a rhino? Come to Tame Camp.

That's not all that happens here, you know. You're not here for sex. It took most of your savings to get to Tame Camp. You plan to stay.

You're assigned campsite six. The other tourists, singles and couples, head off to their own camps. Some of them talk to the black and gray animal and he nods, gesturing with claws as long as your finger. Mdogo, his name is. The only animal here who can speak fluent English. German too, sounds like, and who knows how many other languages. Mdogo is in the brochure and on their web site. And other places on the Internet, if you know where to look.

The honey badger points with a clawed paw, hooking up tourists with animals. He can talk to people and to the beasts. Almost all of the animals who come here can talk to each other, but need a translator to talk to people. Thus, Mdogo.

A group of three leave for their campsite with the eerily silent bulk of a bull elephant. Two lionesses and a lion leave with a fat German man. You wonder if the lions will turn some of his fat into their own. The animals here won't attack you...unless you want them to. A blond woman leaves with a leopard and a hyena, getting her dose of spots. The leopard at least is a male. She'll get her dose of barbs too.

You wait until the other tourists leave. The honey badger has been watching you out of the corner of his eye. He reads your face as he trots over.

"You aren't here for the same reason they are,"Mdogo growls. "Let's go talk to Sudi."

"There is additional paperwork," the ebony-skinned camp foreman says. He slides it across the table and you scan it briefly before signing. Absolving the camp of any blame for what's about to happen. Signing your life away. Telling the foreman that you came here to get eaten.

He doesn't ask why. Neither does Mdogo. It's none of their business. They just attend to the legal niceties. They don't bother you with questions as to why you want to stay at the camp in the form of fat on some lucky animal's flanks.

The thirty-pound honey badger sits by your chair and lets you scratch his ears. Petting a honey badger. Another thing you have to come to Tame Camp to do. Not quite as exotic as checking "fuck a lion" off your bucket list, but you'll take it.

You want to do more than pet Mdogo. He trots next to you as you walk to campsite six. You only have one change of clothing in your knapsack. Just in case you change your mind.

The camp comes with a mosquito-netted tent, sleeping bags, campfire. Stumps to sit on and canvas camp chairs. You sit on a stump, run your hand down Mdogo's nape. His fur is coarse and bristly. He hooks a forepaw up and guides your hand to his mouth.

Sharp fangs scrape your skin. He's little, only a quarter your size. His tongue is soft and warm. He grips your forearm with strong sharp claws as he swallows your hand.

You watch the long bulge of your forearm move through his neckfur. Wet flesh slithers around your hand as he swallows. He's black underneath, off-white and gray on the flanks, medium gray on top. As his swallowing muscles pull your hand down his gullet you imagine what he'll look like swollen around an entire human. Fur stretched thin, too swollen to move, claws hanging free of the ground as he slowly digests you. The long, long burp as he settles down to rest after his efforts. It'll take him days to digest a meal your size and when he's done he'll be a fat little badger indeed.

He swallows again and powerful throat muscles pull your forearm into into jaws. Sharp fangs scrape as your elbow disappears. A fleshy valve expands over your knuckles and your hand slips into his stomach.

Digestive juices sting your skin at once. Mdogo swallows a third time and he's to your shoulder. His gaping maw encloses your shoulder like a strange tribal ornament. His upper fangs scrape your collarbone as his lower jaw presses into your armpit. Forepaws dig into your shirt and he pulls, yawns, swallows again.

He's very strong and hooks his forepaws behind your head, dragging your face into his maw. Joints creak and pop as your entire head tries to disappear down his gullet. His paws grip and tug. With a massive effort he swallows your face.

He tries, he really does. A great bulge moves through stretched black neckfur as your head slips into his gullet. He gulps, gags, gulps again. Slimy throatflesh rolls over your face as he tries to swallow you whole. He's just too little. He can't get over your shoulders. His throat tenses, squeezes powerfully, trying to push you whole down into his stomach. You don't go. You want to, but you don't.

Five minutes of trying later his stomach is still working on your hand. It hurts quite a lot now. As he pants, exhausted from the effort of trying to gulp down a meal four times his size, you use the hand not down his throat to tap him on the head. With a groan of disappointment he disgorges your face.

Even as your wet arm reappears Mdogo swallows, stopping you from pulling out for a moment. But he wants to breathe too and he only weighs thirty or so pounds. He's just too small to manage you and eventually he relaxes, letting you pull your hand out of fanged jaws.

He'd risen up on his haunches as he fed and now he drops back to all fours, licking his chops and looking grumpy. He's not the only one. What he wanted, what you both wanted to be happening right now was for your feet to be in his maw. He'd paw your shoes off, swallow one last time and have his meal of human. But no. It didn't happen.

"Sorry," he growls. "You're only the second to offer. If it were up to me, you'd be in my stomach right now."

You nod and wipe your hand on the dry brown grass. His digestive juices left your skin red and sore. There's an oozing scrape behind your ear where one of his canine fangs scratched you as he pulled back. Not the slimy digestive end you wanted, but he did his best.

He sprawls out on his belly next to you, muzzle on his claws. You stroke his back as you continue to wipe your other hand on the grass. If it'd stayed in his stomach much longer digestion would really have gotten going. He could manage one of your arms easily, maybe even a whole leg, folding it up inside his long furry body. Digest that part of you at least. Your experience with his stomach tells you that you aren't up for having him digest part of you while the rest stays outside. You want him to have all of you, or none.

"If you want a small predator," he growls, "The next one up is Rafi, the friendly cheetah. Kuchesa, the leopard, was only a little bigger than she was, but Rafi swallowed him last month. The two other leopards here now like their meat bloody. Not all of them can swallow whole. There's Issa the hyena -"

"Wait," you say. "Rafi swallowed him? I thought there was a truce here?"

"It was outside the Camp," he growls. "And an accident."

"How do you accidentally swallow someone your own size whole?"

He laughs. You feel his little body vibrate. He is warm and strong under your hand. No bigger than a medium sized dog. There are creatures here who could swallow you easily. Even the herbivores can be oddly predatory. You don't want another predator to swallow you. You want Mdogo to do it.

"Would you like to try again?"

You don't need to ask twice. He's on his feet in an instant, climbing up your chest toward your face. Short whiskers brush your chin and then a rasp of tongue moistens your cheek. It turns out honey badgers have tongues as rough as a cat's. With a little work he could lick your skin right off. Instead he licks saliva over that cheek and then the other one. It's almost gentle, almost loving. He's not doing it to be nice. He's improving his chances of eating you whole. Slicking you down for easier swallowing.

A claw hooks behind your ear and he slides off your chest, guiding you to roll onto your side. There is a creak and pop as his jaws disjoint and once more you stare past yellowed fangs into a purple tunnel of honey badger gullet. You both want the same thing. For you to disappear down that slimy chute.

Mdogo hooks his forepaws behind your head and yawns over your face. Carefully he fits his lover fangs beneath your chin and stretches his yawn until the upper ones pop past your forehead. Fangs above and below lock you into his maw as you stare into the stretched gullet straight ahead. He pulls at your skull with his forepaws, rocking you foreword, and your face sinks into his raspy tongue as the top of your head slides into Mdogo's throat. The tongue gathers itself strongly against your lips, almost a kiss, and then the honey badger swallows.

Stretched cheeks slide up on either side, furry in the outside, slimy on the inside, and the light vanishes as your face slips into Mdogo's gullet. He swallows your whole head with little effort. Slippery throatflesh slithers by on all sides, the thick layer of lubricating mucus sticking your hair to your scalp and coating your face. The gullet muscles grip and squeeze and with a grunt of effort he swallows your neck as well.

For such a little animal he's amazingly strong. His throat grips like a great soft fist and pulls you deeper. Slimy flesh slides by on all sides and his ribs creak and pop as he swallows you down into his body cavity. The honey badger's little body expands as the unnatural bulge of a whole human head slides down his throat.

Sharp fangs jab into your shoulders, lower fangs on your left side and upper fangs on your right. Mdogo has it figured out. Your shoulders are too wide for his mouth side to side but not top to bottom. His powerful forepaws reach out, dig into your shirt. Even though the khaki his sharp claws leave welts. You don't care. You brace against the ground as he pulls with all his strength and with a groan of effort Mdogo swallows your shoulders.

It's really happening. You worm your way deeper, trying to help, and a great contraction of his throat muscles squeezes you in. A muscular valve expands over the top of your head and your face pops free into the wet folds of a honey badger stomach. It stretches tight around the great chunk of flesh and bone and the caustic juices sting your eyes and lips. Your whole head is in his stomach now and he strains and pulls, working his way ever so slowly down your chest like a snake trying to swallow prey much too large for its jaws.

Stomach acids burn your skin as he struggles to swallow you down. His unnatural gape lets air into his throat and eventually to his stomach. Otherwise you'd suffocate in short order and miss the rest of it. You want to be awake as he swallows you down and gasp in bitter, bile-scented air.

He's to your elbows, stretched around more than his entire weight in meat and only a third of the way over you. Mdogo can swallow a dog that weighs more than he does. You aren't supposed to take videos at the Camp but someone did and you've seen it. The dog put up a fight but in the end all that was left was a set of twitching hindpaws and a leash hanging from his jaws as the swollen badger settled down to digest his meal. The video ended there but you know that once his stomach dissolved enough of the dog the paws would follow the rest down his throat. There's only so much room inside the badger. He has to digest big meals in stages.

He's to your wrists. Sharp fangs scrape and you're coated in slime, slicked down for swallowing and with stomach juices burning your face. He can't get any further.

His long body is stretched drum tight around half a human, swollen into your shape. The great bulge of a face pushes out of his belly fur, the swell of your shoulders stretches his fur tight as a surgical glove. You feel his hindpaws scrabble at the dirt as he tries to push himself still further over you, feel his strong forepaws trying to cram you into his maw. His strong little heart thumps frantically and he wheezes, barely able to expand his lungs with his throat and body cavity crammed full of man.

He's exhausting himself. If he stopped now maybe he could digest you a bit at a time, eventually gulping down your hips and legs and feet after your head and body dissolved. Maybe. Lying there for days stuffed full of half-swallowed food won't be healthy. It might even kill him.

It's that, as much as the growing burn of stomach juices, that makes you change your mind. You want him to have his meal, but not at the cost of his life.

He's still trying to swallow you down, stubborn to the end, when you bend your wrists and tap his cheeks with your palms.

There is a long pause. Mdogo lies panting, struggling even to breathe, and rests. He has you now. With your arms pinned to your sides, swallowed to the wrists, all he needs to do is ignore you and settle down to digest his meal. You tap his cheeks again and he retches.

The Rules. He can't eat you if you don't want it. Even though he has you cold and could turn you slowly into badger fat and badger shit, Mdogo knows he only got this far because you let him. If he could swallow the rest of you down he would, follow with a belch and lie there for as long as it took to digest you. Even if you started to fight, if he could fit you into his stomach he would.

But he can't. You're still alive and he still gives you a choice. Plus, he knows as well as you how hard it is to breathe while stretched around half a man. Mdogo heaves and you slide back out.

It's far easier to barf you up than swallow you down. His little stretched body wants to be its normal size and pushes you out. You emerge dripping into the light, coated from the waist up in a stick sheen of the slime that was supposed to help you slide down his throat. Your face is singed by his stomach juices, red as a bad sunburn, and you blink as he pushes something into your hand.

A towel from the tent. He follows that with a water bottle and you clean your face as best you can. When you open your stinging eyes you find him next to you, still panting. His fur hangs loose in rolls, trying to lose its stretch as his body slowly resumes its normal shape.

You're scratched in a dozen places, some bleeding. Trying to stuff something your size into his maw required force. As you wipe off the slime you find places with five parallel marks from his claws and places with two separated ones where canine fangs dragged along your flesh. There are more on your back where you can't see and can't reach.

"If you want, I can get a first aid kit," Mdogo growls. He's giving you a choice. He can get the kit or he can get a bigger predator. Maybe his mistress, a honey badger sow ten times his size, is hungry. If she isn't, someone else is sure to be. You could be in someone's stomach inside half an hour. Or in the she-badger's womb, which would be no safer. She's another camp predator you heard about in the dark parts of the Internet. There's a video featuring her, too.

"Get the kit," you say. It turns out to be in the tent ten feet away. He could have gotten it in the time it took him to ask, but then he wouldn't have found out where you wanted to spend the night. In a sleeping bag or in a larger predator's belly.

He carries the white box to you in his jaws. He does his best to work on your back as you put bandages on the worst scratches you can reach. He doesn't have thumbs but his long-clawed paws are more dexterous than you expected.

When you're finished with the alcohol and bandages he lies down next to you and accepts a drink of water from the bottle he brought you earlier. He's a tough little thing but he must be as sore are you are. That he even managed to get half of you down is a marvel.

"You got a lot farther than I thought you'd get," you venture. "I've heard about stretchy animals, but I didn't think you would get that far."

"And yet you let me try," Mdogo growls, and lets you stroke his back and scratch his ears. He's not a pet. He's not tame. If he were a little bit stretchier his meeting with you would have ended with a burp.

"I hoped," you say. You scratch him behind the ears and he leans into it. "I hoped you could. I would be happy to end up in your stomach."

"I would be happy to send you there," he chuckles. "I've been practicing. Many animals around here are stretchy. Rafi, the friendly cheetah, has swallowed men twice her weight. A year ago she could only manage a woman smaller than herself. A year ago I could barely have swallowed your head."

"You practice on dogs."

"That's supposed to be a secret," he growls. "Some people really don't like it. Others, well, people who just want to watch have brought me dogs and other animals. Sometimes I catch my own. I swallowed a whole gazelle a few weeks ago. She was bigger than I am. But I still can't manage someone your size. Not yet."

"What about a kid?"

"Rules," Mdogo growls. He's almost back to his previous appearance. Tough, stretchy pelt that wasn't quite stretchy enough to hold a whole human has shrunk back over his muscles and bones. "We all agreed we had a good thing here. There are people who'd feed us kids, but if we did that a lot of other people wouldn't come here. The Camp might even be shut down. It would spoil things for everyone, not just the hungry ones."

As if on cue, a surprised-sounding feminine shriek comes from a nearby camp. You can't see what happened, but you guess the blond woman just learned about the leopard's barbs. That sort of thing probably happens a lot around here.

Mdogo licks your acid-singed hand, gently, so not to lick the skin off with his raspy tongue. "You can bend the rules. If someone starts struggling halfway down, after at first letting you eat them, you can always say they were just pretending to resist. If they are silly enough to let you get them partway in, because they don't realize what you are doing, you can say the same thing. Rafi has eaten several people who thought she was just playing. When you started to struggle, if I could have finished you off..."

"I'd be inside you now."

Mdogo sighs. "I tried. But I am not there yet. Maybe eventually."

"How long, do you think?"

He thinks. "A year ago, I struggled with prey half my size. Now I can manage a meal a little bigger than I am. Maybe one year." He gives your stinging hand a lick. "Then someone will volunteer, probably thinking I am too small. Then it will happen. I will eat my first whole human, and my friends will come and congratulate me as I lie there too full to move."

First whole human. Has he digested bits of one? Probably. Not everyone around here can swallow prey whole. There have to be scraps sometimes.

You're sore and scratched, but it's a shame to waste your time at Tame Camp. You talk to Mdogo about it, and he fetches a spotty cat with a long, lashing tail. Her you know from the Internet too. She's the most famous creature at the Camp. She wants to eat you too.

She licks you all over as you do things that'd be deeply illegal back home. Even talking animals are still against the rules most places, and she can only manage a few words. She's smart though. She yawns over your face as the two of you make love, eases her jaws forward. You know what will happen if you let her get far enough.

"No," you tell her firmly, and she satisfies herself with the taste of you as Mdogo mounts her rump. The three of you spend most of the night experiencing each other.

The second night, one last treat. The Very Friendly Cheetah swallows one of your legs to the hip. Mdogo swallows the other, folding your knee up inside himself just as you suspected he might. You jack off with a set of jaws trying very hard to swallow you from each side. When the burn of stomach acid is too much you pat their heads and they back up, each with strings of goo stuck to their whiskers.

You get funny looks on the way home. People on the plane ogle your reddened face, your one singed hand, the "sunburned" feet above your sandals. You just smile.

You don't lose your job. You get demoted. People who used to work for you are now co-workers. It's awkward and would be deeply embarrassing if you cared. You don't. You still make enough money to get by.

Enough to save for another trip. Mdogo turns out to have an iPad, and video chatting doesn't cost the way a call to Kenya would.

He lies in his padded bed, in a closet at the Camp they turned into a room for him, and purrs. "Someone didn't need the iPad any more," he says, and licks his chops.

He's just teasing, you know. But as the weeks go by, on the Saturday chats, you watch him yawn. You have screenshots or videos of each yawn and over the weeks you see how bit by bit, his gape gets wider. He's been practicing.

The video quality is usually terrible, but you have some good ones saved. They are very useful, at night. Tonight you watch him swallow a dog almost twice his size. It struggles and kicks, on its way to being a bulge.

"Soon," he purrs, and yawns. Deep in his gullet you can still see the twitching hindpaws. They will linger in his throat until digestion makes room further down.

At work, your boss hasn't forgotten your fuckup and rides you constantly. Your co-workers can't figure out why you haven't quit.

You can't quit. Not yet. You watch the strings of saliva stretch and snap between Mdogo's fangs and stare down into the slick purple depths of his gullet. Soon he'll be ready. You'll tell your boss to fuck off, buy a ticket - one way, this time.

One way all the way. You'll get another look into the badger's salivating maw. His strong little paws will reach out, his jaws will creak wide, and you will watch Mdogo yawn one last time.