FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Ah, Harkenwood. The shining great metropolis of the lands that once belonged to the elves. Nobody was quite sure who it belonged to now. Perhaps it was still the elves, but one would never know from looking at the city. Unlike the traditional elf-cities, which tended to be green oases, Harkenwood was very much a modern, bustling city. Most considered it independent, with the way the population had grown by absorbing so many of the nearby races and species. Dwarves, elves, dragons and beastfolk, all living side by side among concrete and glass. It had everything, from a technical mage's guild that ensured plentiful and easily accessible power, to what it was perhaps the most famous - or infamous - for; the Free Districts.

As the city was growing, long ago, it turned out that none of the species could entirely agree on what the laws should be. The elves, for example, were often prudish, whereas many of the smaller beastfolk had no decency whatsoever when it came to lusty pursuits. The dwarves wanted the right to public drinking and fights, as was their way. And the dragons? Well, everyone knows what controversial thing dragons often enjoyed: slaves tending to their every whim.

Harkenwood had struck a balance. In the outer parts of the city - the "civilized" ones - all laws applied. Nobody got everything they wanted. There was no public mating, fighting, drinking, and slavery was strictly prohibited. While this would've normally caused quite a lot of friction among the many inhabitants, the city had what some would call an ingenious solution to this, ensuring the trade flowed smoothly in its outer parts. Enter the Free Districts. A nearly lawless inner core, in which almost everything was permitted. Not a slum, of course not. The Districts were beloved, well-kept, and within them, all the species of the 'Wood were allowed to pursue their strangest desires.

Decency barely existed. Street-side orgies were not an uncommon occurrence, often led by the felines when their heats struck. The wood-nymphs ensured that drugs flowed in, originally for their shamanistic culture, but free for all to enjoy in exchange for money, now. The necromancers were free to practice their art, given that they kept their creations relatively inoffensive in the olfactory sense and didn't actively create more of the dead. The dwarves ran fighting rings and, of course, gambling dens to bet on the fights. And the dragons? Well, the dragons ran the slave markets.

Oh, it wasn't quite like the old days. The slaves had all volunteered, so they said. Heavily armed ordinator-mage squads made sure of that. One was free to be enslaved, if one wanted it, for any reason. Most tended towards the sexual, but a few had sadder stories, typically of financial ruin. The city's outer districts had safety nets, but some were simply too proud to ever accept the handouts, and opted to earn a living with hard or sexual labour.

There weren't enough mages to make sure the few laws were _always_followed, but enough so that most didn't care to try their luck. Sometimes, they missed a case of theft or assault. Other times, they left the perpetrator magically shackled in the middle of town square, or in the case of rape, as a petrified statue free for anyone to enjoy until someone remembered to thaw them. It simply wasn't worth the risk, even if there was a real chance of avoiding punishment altogether.

Some called them the Beautiful Districts, and despite the frequent ugliness of that place, it worked. The lawlessness provided catharsis that allowed each species to maintain trade and civility in the outer parts. Some visitors from distant cities were not quite as impressed, with news reports sometimes proclaiming the Districts a hive of villainy or even proof positive of the decay of civilization. Yet, to Fyra, it was home.

The red half-dragoness, looking no older than perhaps twenty, sat on a rooftop overlooking it all, as she had for better part of the last millennium. Well, if not _over_looking, at least looking over. She'd gotten the best of both dragons and elves, nearly immortal and certainly eternally beautiful, but also their worst. She had the aloof attitude of her elven ancestors, and the cruel lusts of the draconic half. Somewhere along the line, she'd picked up a liking for drink as well. All of that and the boredom of the ages left her, all in all, a rather unpleasant individual that most didn't want to associate with.

And yet, many did anyway, for her other strengths. As a dragon, she was both extremely fertile and virile, owing to her dual assets when it came to sex. If one would've asked her, she'd likely guffawed and noted something such as "Yea, halfa' the 'wood's at least a quarter-half-dragon, ya know?" and there was a fair bit of truth to it. Her bloodline did run thick there, as both father and mother, particularly in the Districts. Most of her time she spent sitting on that rooftop, trying to spot particularly interesting descendants of hers. Nobody really knew what kind of appearance a dragon-elf-wolf-dwarf might end up looking like, for example, and it was certainly more interesting than simply searching for the bottom of a barrel _all_the time.

Sitting there, she noticed another red dragoness. A feral one. That was enough to catch Fyra's interest. Almost certainly, she was a distant relative of hers. Not that she was the only dragon in the city, and over the centuries, it was hard to tell what traits came from where, but she got that feeling, following the dragoness as she wandered through the streets below. Oh, and what was that? The way her horns curved, the way her slit seemed to bulge each time Fyra could glimpse it pressing against those silken clothes, under her swaying tail? The dragoness was not only a feral, but almost _certainly_a hermaphrodite like herself.

That sealed it. Almost. She had to be a distant descendant. Returning to a feral form was rare enough, requiring a strong draconic connection to drown out the bipedal genes, but it was particularlyrare that she ever sired - or birthed - other herms like herself. Most never did. Even she did not, most of the time, but every now and then it happened. And it always caught her attention.

Fyra followed her, hopping from rooftop to rooftop to keep an eye on the dragoness wandering the streets and admiring her skimpy, silken outfit. The attire of a noblewoman of some sort. She'd only have to get a little closer. If this was one of her distant descendants... well, she was getting rather excited by the prospect of reintroducing some prime blood into that particular line. If not prime then at least primal. Older. What a lovely day this was shaping up to be.

She got a fair bit ahead of the feral, who seemed to be headed to the market square. Now, that was interesting. Nobody from outside the Districts went to the market unless they wanted to buy slaves or drugs, and since slaves weren't legal to enjoy outside of this place, Fyra was already formulating a plan.

She hopped down next to a temporarily empty market stand, snatching a few pieces of jerky from it for a snack. Their own fault for not keeping an eye on the goods, really. Now, which dealer was the dragoness going to? There were quite a few, but a likely upper society lady like herself wouldn't care for most. Not to mention it had to be one selling dragon-specific substances, given their enormous tolerance to most intoxicants.

Fyra picked out the one she found most likely, a large but nondescript - and yet paradoxically rather infamous - stand on the corner. They changed name and ownership fairly regularly, at least on paper. In the few moments she had before the feral reached the marketplace, she had a brief chat with the proprietor, telling him that a friend of hers was about to visit, and just what kind of custom cocktail a good dealer who wanted to keep doing business was going to offer her. A few shiny coins, too. The carrot and the stick always worked best together.

A spicy, needy scent caught in her nostrils, and she shivered as a memory resurfaced in her mind. Oh yes, not only was the dragoness in heat, she knew her. Of course, that was Tia. Del Valdore by last name, if Fyra remembered correctly. She had always suspected they were related, but with how often that was true in this city, she'd not bothered having a closer look. Now that she knew Tia was a hermaphrodite, her interest was piqued.

She was married, too, to one of those society drakes who'd certainly never approve of her buying drugs from some rat in the Districts. And she'd come here in full, heated bloom? Either she was naïve, or she knew exactly what she was doing. Either way, Fyra was going to give her _exactly_what she needed.

Fyra took a step back, standing inconspicuously at the corner of the stand, leaning against it and listening. Tia approached, of course she did. Over the years, Fyra had figured out how people, and especially people related to her, thought. She could almost always predict actions and choices like that. Everyone was predictable, in the end.

"Ah, Mrs. Tia," the rat-dealer smiled. "I've got your usual, but also a rather exciting new formula, if you'd care to give it a try. It's the same as before, only more intense for someone of your noble stature.."

Stronger, and laden with fertility enhancers, Fyra thought. Plus a little something to lower her inhibitions a little. Any dragoness was strong enough to ignore her heat, normally, and strong enough to fend off any unwanted suitors, but it was a thin façade. What she really wanted, coming here, smelling like that, was obvious to Fyra.

"Oh, um..." Tia replied, trying to keep her voice down. "I'd have to sample it first, and I'm not sure if I-"

"Ah, you're in the Districts, dear. Nobody's going to think twice about you enjoying yourself," the rat crooned. Despite his age, he still had oodles of charm. Part of why he was still the one selling the product, here. "That's why we all come here, isn't it?"

He held out a handful of powder, presented on a beautiful silken handkerchief, embroidered with the coat of arms of some lost dynasty. Fyra smirked. It was a very deliberate presentation. The noble families wouldn't appreciate their symbols being used like this, but extinct houses lent a delicate air of mystery to anything. Mystery, and an unspoken assurance of quality. Yet, Tia hesitated. And so, Fyra stepped in.

"Tha's good stuff, really," she noted, as if she was simply a bystander who happened to be there at exactly the right moment. "Makes ya feel all nice 'n such, ya? Ain't got much o' a comedown, either."

Fyra had tried that blend herself. It didn't as much make one feel good as it drove one into a heated, sexual frenzy. Induced or intensified a heat, too. Dropped all your inhibitions. She'd ended up so bloated with mixed eggs she'd had to order delivery that one time she'd tried it. All in all, a good time, but she really did prefer being on top when sober.Especially when sober. Letting others carry that burden. At least all wyrmlings were quick to reach independence after hatching.

Tia shuddered, if only inwardly, as she gave into her curiosity. The feral dragoness lowered her snout towards the rat's outstretched palm, and he held that little pile of powder against her nostril. And then she inhaled, sharply.

The first reaction was a cough, and then a gasp. Her pupils dilated quickly. Fyra knew exactly what she was feeling. That heated, tingling glow spreading from her head to her lower body. The wet, clenching need that'd grow by the minute. The faltering justifications for why she shouldn't just lay down right there, raise her tail, and let anyone tend to her needs. She wouldn't get any of that, though, as Fyra had a very particular cock in mind. Hers.

She handed the rat another handful of coins, which he quickly pocketed, and then focused her attention on Tia, running a hand across her flank while taking a quick look around. No ordinator-mages. Hopefully none would wander in or she'd be toast. But god, was it ever worth the risk. Flaunting rules and taking increasingly big risks was one thing that'd never fail to get her blood pumping.

"So howsat? Feels pretty-darn-good, don't it?" Fyra drawled, leading the feral towards the very centre of the market. She had something pretty special in mind. She'd pump her cum into that drenched feral cunt right in the open. The people here would surely love a show of a high society dragoness being showed her place. A married one.

The problem was that the mages wouldn't take it as a fun show. They'd take it as rape, and while Fyra was powerful, she had little chance against a whole squad of them focusing their magic on her. She'd end up in the stocks - which wasn't entirely unwelcome, kinky as she was -or imprisoned and with a magically suppressed sex drive. That was the bad option. How would she pass the centuries if not with idle pleasures?

But they rarely came here. Not unless someone tipped them off.

"I feel... all weird," Tia huffed. The slightest touch along her scales felt like electricity. The world was swirling before her eyes - this stuff was a lot more potent than she was used to - and she wasn't quite sure where she even was. People smeared into pretty colours, and her body felt like it was melting into vibrating, pleasured goo. Especially on the inside. Like she was melting and the slime was dripping right out of her, feeling so good as it soaked her thighs, and her swelling cock too, as it slipped out of its slit.

Tia wasn't the only one getting rather hot and bothered, of course. Fyra had been proudly erect from the moment the feral dragoness finally inhaled that powder, her cock aching to be put to use and to leave a nice, fat clutch of eggs inside the other herm. Watching her unconsciously raise her tail as they walked - the feral, clumsily so - towards the centre to show off her readiness and sopping wet panties wasn't making it any better. The heat-scent was getting overwhelming, and Fyra wasn't sure if she could've stopped herself from going through with this even if the mages happened to arrive.

She'd probably have to be peeled off the feral's back by the entire team.

"So, Tia del Valdore," Fyra started, watching carefully for any reaction from Tia. There it was, a tremble that shot through her form despite her arousal. "Wha' would yer husband say if someun' told 'im yer out here in the 'stricts, ya drugged up slut?"

"B-but I'm not a-" Tia protested, silenced by a muffled, needy moan as Fyra pressed her muzzle shut.

"Yeh, ya sure are. High off yer ass on some drugs ya don' even know what they are!" Fyra laughed. There was a cruel edge to her laughter, even if more of it was genuine amusement. The kind of detached amusement only a centuries-old being could find in the behaviour of younger ones. "Keepin' yer tail high and purdy. Jus' beggin' fer some drake to mount ya. Any ol' drake who wantsta rut 'n breed ya."

Fyra's claws slid through the fine, form-fitting shorts she was wearing, leaving her drooling slit bare for anyone to see. And the scent,_gods, the scent was so very strong it almost got _Fyra drunk, her heart beating rapidly, her male half screaming at her to just stop playing and mount the hen.

"No, that's not what I'm..." Tia whimpered, feeling the cool breeze on her suddenly oh-so-sensitive folds. Just that made her shiver. How good would it feel to just raise her ass up and- no! She was _married._Loyal to a beautiful drake who loved her. She only came her to... sample the local delights, yes, that was it.

"Ah wonder if he's gonna see it tha' way," Fyra rumbled. "Can even let 'im smell your cunt on me," she added, slipping an age-roughened finger into the squirming dragoness, and then another. "Or let 'im smell my stink in you. If he dun' smell tha' yer here 'ready."

"P-please don't tell him," Tia whimpered. Her inner muscles clamped down around those invading digits, and her already red-scaled muzzle blushed an even fiercer red as she heard someone whistle at the display. "What d-do you want?"

"Ah won't. If ya let me show ya how a propah drake treats a hen in season," she chuckled. "Lemme give ya what ya need. Don' worry, ya won't get knocked up from jus' one time. Even tho' ya clearly want it."

She would. God only knew just how many eggs were ready inside her, begging to be fertilized. The drugs she'd had the rat mix in did that. If she got a single drop of cum inside her, chances were she'd be so swollen with eggs that she'd not be able to fly. Barely walk. But that wasn't something she needed to worry her adorable head about at the moment.

Tia grit her teeth. It was demeaning. The other dragoness smelled unwashed, musky, and her coarse, lewd attitude should've been a turnoff. But in her addled state, the words seemed to sink into her mind, teasing at every nerve in her body. She could have everything her body demanded, right now, and who cares if there'd be people watching? They were just animals in heat, rutting mindlessly. She opened her mouth to say no, regardless, with the last shreds of her self-control, but as the half-dragon's fingers pinched her still little clit, all that came out was a desperate, shaky moan.

"Yeh, ya need it doncha? Dun worry. Yer mate won't know. 'less you show up all swollen," Fyra grinned. She positioned herself behind the dragoness. Someone outside of her field of vision cheered. Something like go on, fuck some eggs into her. Not that Fyra needed any encouragement.

With a buck of her hips, she slid into that slick, warm slice of heaven under the feral's tail, giving a happy growl as she felt her inner muscles clench around her.

"Look at ya, soakin' my damn cock, huggin' it like an ol' friend," she taunted Tia, giving another firm buck to really hilt herself in that wonderful heat, grinding so her ridges really caught on those silken walls, delighting in the sensation of her eagerly clutching at her risky, virile breeding rod.

Tia was blushing fiercely. She thought she heard people cheering and jeering around her, but it was hard to tell what was real. Everything felt like a dream. There was a certain floatiness to everything. A dreamy haze. The one thing that was definitely real was the squelching_of Fyra's cock pumping into her _soaking wet cunt. And the anxious ecstasy that vibrated through her form with every thrust. Knowing that the cock was inside her, bare, nothing between that cumslit at the top and her fertile womb. And she was letting it happen. Was this really any less shameful than doing drugs?

The snap of a camera answered the question for her. Yes, yes it was. God, they were probably recording her too. That icy realization was enough to make her rational mind briefly resurface, only for it to be pounded back into submission by the rhythmic rutting of that knotted, draconic shaft inside her. She wasn't sure if there were only a couple, a dozen, or a hundred people watching, and the sensation was overwhelming, like her mind was struggling to take it all in. And somehow that only left her wetter. Did she really _want_this?

"Yeh, ya want it," Fyra growled, as if reading Tia's mind. "They're all- rrgh, they're all watchin'. Watchin' us mate like fuckin' animals."

In the meantime, she was trying to keep an eye out for the red robes of the ordinators. If they appeared, she'd bolt, as fast as she could. If she managed to stop herself. The risk was making it all the more intense, the same way the humiliation and degradation left the dragon beneath her a whimpering, horny mess.

Fyra pulled out, pushing the feral over and climbing on top of her. Tia was almost twice her size, but she was still strong enough to grab her hind legs, taking her in a kind of improvised mating press. They let out a mutual sigh of pleasure as she sunk that cock back into the other herm's soaked sex. Briefly, almost as an aside, Fyra noted that Tia's own maleness was fully hard too. Maybe she'd take a ride on that later, to really establish her dominance. Using the poor feral hermaphrodite as both a cum dump and a cum _pump._Whenever she felt like getting knocked up anyway.

Meanwhile, Tia was squirming helplessly. In her drugged haze, the half-dragon on top of her seemed so strong and dominant. Each thrust of her hips into her sent sparks of ecstasy throughout her. The feral had enjoyed sex before, but never to quite this dissolute degree of pleasure that felt like it was burning away all her shame and reservations. Every pump of that shaft inside her threatened to send her over the edge. God, I'm going to cum in front of all these people. And get knocked up. Why does it feel so good?

She'd never felt like that, with her husband, a realization that left her feeling even more guilty. Guilty, violated, helpless. Was it the setting, or was Fyra's cock just that good? Mastering her cunt, making her body sing out in pleasure. Gods, she was moaning, wasn't she? Moaning like a common whore in front of all these people, and they were all _recording_it too. She'd have practically no reputation left. And yet, she wanted it, crying out with passionate abandon, no matter how hard she tried to hold back on those shameless, animalistic vocalizations.

Fyra kept at it for a little longer. It wasn't easy, but she'd had years of practice. She wasn't just breeding the dragoness, but putting on a show. This kind of thing was why nobody ever actively reported her. The Districts loved their public display, no matter how much the ordinators disapproved. And who wouldn't? It was like porn, except real. Not the manufactured, sterile smut of the rest of the city. They got to smell every musky note of need - oh, was that ever hanging thick in the air around them - hear every wet, slopping thrust, watch the noble dragoness helplessly surrender to pleasure. Fyra raised her tail, showing off how sopping wet their mating had left her too. Not that she was planning to get fucked, herself. But a tease never hurt.

Finally, the pressure grew too much to bear, even for her. Fyra drew a deep breath, her breasts heaving, and drove her knotted shaft all the way into Tia's body. Then, she let go, releasing all that pent up tension in thick, virile spurts of cum, pumping deep into her fertile body.

Tia shuddered, shivered, tensed, and then came, harder than she ever had before, roaring in ecstasy as she felt that wet, fulfilling heat blossom inside her. Fyra was seeding her slutty, unfaithful pussy. She'd get pregnant for sure. She felt herself conceive - or at least, thought she did, thanks to the drugs - practically seeing Fyra's cum gushing into her womb and up her tubes and finding those eggs. It couldn't happen that fast. But it would happen. She knew that. And that was why her sex was so desperately milking the other herm's cock for all it was worth, squeezing and sucking out every last drop of her precious seed. Tia's own, in turn, was wasted, erupting in a mighty geyser from her shaft and splattering over her chest and muzzle.

The audience cheered. Prematurely. Fyra wasn't done yet.

She waited a few moments, making sure she was fully spent, squeezing out the last few drops of cum where it belonged, and enjoying the musky scent of sex that hung heavy all around them. Then, she pulled out with a wet, slurping sound, knot and all. A deluge of her cum followed, what seemed like a gallon of it. Maybe it was how it mixed with Tia's nectar. Or maybe she'd just been more pent up than she realized, with how Tia's belly was ever so slightly bloated, as if she was pregnant already. Either way, it was a beautiful sight, and the snapping of camera shutters around them confirmed she wasn't alone in thinking that.

Fyra climbed on top of the other dragoness, aimed her softening cock at her face, and without any further bravado, relieved another kind of pressure. It was almost as satisfying as her orgasm had been. Her acrid urine splashed over Tia's snout and face, washing off the earlier stains of cum and bathing her in that heated warmth. Marking her. It was almost enough to get Fyra hard again. Almost.

Plenty of that golden stream ended up in her panting, open mouth, leaving the feral coughing and spluttering, but too weak to really resist, or even protest. It was just more of the humiliating bliss. Tia felt weak, almost gelatinous, and yet oddly warm. Oddly content, having had that pretension of being modest and proper fully stripped away.

"So, if ya want more o' a propah dragon's cock, come see me at that park. Ya know the one," Fyra chuckled, shaking out the last few drops of piss over the feral's chest. "Th' one where the kids usedta play."

She hopped off and went about her business, leaving Tia alone, her well-bred snatch drooling with thick cum, and her body reeking of Fyra's piss. The crowd was deafening, cheering and jeering at the performance they'd been given. Slowly, just in time to avoid someone else trying their luck, she managed to get back on her feet and stumble away.

A few months later, all was as it always was. Nobody in the Districts really remembered the dragoness getting fucked in the middle of it all. Stranger things happened every day. Of course, Fyra had still hid - very_quickly - when the mages actually did sweep the area the day after. Given that she wasn't set upon by all of them, chances were they didn't really care enough to pursue the case. Tia, although a noble, _was only one dragon, after all. Not worth all that much effort.

Though she'd certainly been worth a lot of the more intimate kind of effort, Fyra mused, longing around the Old Kid's park. Or the old kids' park. She preferred thinking of it as the former, as it gave her the justification she needed to play around there, herself, whittling away the time she had so much of. There was no denying that at some point in the past, actual young kids had played there, but nowadays, what kind of parent would let their kids roam free in the districts? Such was the way to certain moral decay.

Sometimes, if only very rarely, Fyra took moments to consider if she should abandon her hedonistic lifestyle. The answer was always no. Sure, other dragons would gather considerably more power and wealth, but all of that meant effort. It meant fighting and scheming, and she had never been much for that. Perhaps it was that mixed elven blood pumping through her veins, leaving her halfway between a vagabond and a particularly horny bohemian.

Somethin' like that, anyway, she figured. Maybe one day. She had quite a lot of life left to live, and for now, the Districts were plenty enough for her. The swingset she was lazily occupying creaked as she leaned back, and, well, swung. It was comfortable, nostalgic even. Maybe once it was too rusty she'd commission another one. Or steal one.

She was distracted from her idle daydreaming as she heard someone else approach. Certainly not a kid, old or young. No, this sounded heavy.

And heavy it was. Tia had returned, as Fyra predicted. Her belly was almost scraping the ground with how swollen it was with her eggs, and the half-dragoness couldn't help but smile; a wide, wicked smile that showed off more sharp teeth than the average person was comfortable with. She also had more than a few cases of luggage strapped to her back.

"Ah take it he didn't like yer new look?" Fyra chuckled. Maybe that was a little too much. "Dun' worry. 'tis water under th' bridge."

Tia explained. She'd arrived at her home and immediately confessed her little drug habit. Her husband had actually been okay with that. Then, someone had sent him a video of her getting fucked. And then someone else had done the same. Until his mailbox was flooded with mocking videos of the same event, taken from a few dozen angles. No doubt about half the city knew about it by the time he opened the first message.

That was too much for his draconic pride, and it'd been messy. What it resulted in, either way, was her being kicked out. Half kicked out, and half leaving out of her own volition, with her belly full of somewhat incestuous eggs. And with nowhere else obvious to go, she'd come to where Fyra had said to meet her. Right there in the park.

"Well, I'll take you in, happily," Fyra purred. For once, she spoke slowly and clearly, fixing her eyes to those of the other dragoness. "But you'll have to earn your keep."

"How?" Tia asked. Fyra smiled, pointing casually at her rapidly swelling cock, still slimy with the musk and fluids of her last partner. The smell was overpowering, raw and sexual. But that was why she had other people clean it.

Tia sighed, sadly. This is just how it's going to be, isn't it? She stepped closer and wrapped her muzzle around that hard shaft, the same one that'd done all this to her, licking around it and cleaning before starting to really suck.

Fyra, in turn, groaned happily as her hips bucked, hilting her cock in the feral's mouth. Mmh, this was the life. It'd been a while since she last had a servant. A more or less eager live-in cocksleeve. As much as she enjoyed prowling the city for new prey, there was certain casual delight in having someone who she knew would never say no. A live-in piece of tail, someone she could just casually rut a load into.

Someone to breed with for a few clutches, at least.

Another satisfied groan resonated in her chest as Tia sped up, trying her hardest to earn her keep. Yeah, Fyra knew she'd enjoy this arrangement for quite some time to come.