FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

When one thought of the Free Districts of Harkenwood, a few different personalities and characters came to mind, most of them not remotely what one might consider a moral, modest, or upstanding citizen. Fyra, the dragoness, was one of them; most people living in the districts had seen her with her entourage of slaves and pets, or at the very least, noticed her eye-watering stench somewhere in the vicinity. The minotaur was another one, though not by name. This was simply because he had none, or at least none that he cared to share. Nobody really knew what he did, but they had all seen him, and most feared his hulking mass. Countless others, too.

With so many prominent scoundrels who roamed the dilapidated buildings and time-worn streets of the largely lawless paradise, nobody would've thought of Vaska. That was all well and good, because Vaska preferred not being seen or known. She was a vampire bat, a wolf, and a lycanthrope on top of that. Towards her wolf side, of course. Merely the fact that so many would ask her how she happened to be both a vampire and a werewolf was enough reason to stay out of sight. She wasn't_a vampire, but a vampire _bat, and the only similarity was that both needed blood to survive. She was, however, a werewolf, and even in the Districts, most weren't too fond of lycanthropes.

Oh, it was hardly much of a surprise. Any lycanthrope who lost control of themselves would go on a murderous rampage with lunatic strength, and stopping them was usually a community effort; one of the few times the elves and the dragons would work side by side. Thus, it was common for most were-creatures controlled themselves with relatively inexpensive potions, supplied by the black market. Even the crimelords didn't want werewolves in their territory, and keeping them under control was easier than hunting them down. It was, perhaps, one of the only real examples of a welfare program the Districts had.

Vaska had no such luck. The suppressant potions made her violently ill, and so, on each full moon, she would go on a rampage, unless she was far from any civilization.

That was what'd forced her to live in the Districts. If werewolves were generally distrusted or even hated there, things were far worse elsewhere. Here, at least people were only concerned with their own survival. Elsewhere, they had organized guilds of hunters who went after lycanthropes as a matter of _principle._In the Districts, those guilds were, thankfully, even less welcome than the werewolves themselves, as their hunts never stopped at only werewolves. They'd soon go after vampires and other unnatural monstrosities, many of whom had staked out their territories in the squalid slums.

And that was Vaska's fate. She was small in comparison to most residents, barely bigger than a child in her natural form, and though she was surprisingly strong for her size, ultimately she was no challenge for the residents gifted with excessive capacity for violence. She was a street rat at best, ambushing - or on occasion, seducing - inhabitants in dark alleyways for her next meal of blood, or to pick their pockets. She'd been in prison so many times they had her face on a poster with the words "wretched recidivist" under it in the Ordinator-Mage barracks. She'd learned to embrace that role, running drugs or other illicit supplies as needed when not sneaking her hand into someone else's pocket, or her fangs into their necks.

She'd even used her small stature to lure the most sick and perverted denizens to her, paying for a moment to use her body. And then, she'd punish them by taking the rest of their money while they were lingering in the post-orgasmic haze. Luckily, she was barren outside of her heats, and so, their seed never had a chance to take root inside her.

Yet she wasn't always barren, as much as she'd have wished it so. Her transformations on the night of the full moon coincided with her heat cycle, and so her "rampages" tended to be more sexual than violent in nature. After each shift, she would typically wake up with her thighs caked with cum, having forced herself on - or offered herself to - god knows how many males in a desperate attempt to get herself fertilized, her feral wolf-self caring little for consequences. And thus, each time she came to after a transformation, it was to nauseating anxiety. Luckily, with how exotic a hybrid she was, the chances were low. Sooner or later though, she knew the law of averages would come and take a great big bite out of her ass, and then she'd be stuck with a bellyful of pups, not even knowing she'd been successfully bred by some lucky - or unlucky - chump before her belly began to swell, or she got the dreaded morning sickness.

Once, she'd broken into one of the libraries of Harkenwood - far outside of her home territory - to study possible cures for her condition. Oh, she'd never be accepted even if she weren't a werewolf, but at least remaining in control of herself would eliminate the chance of a surprise pregnancy.

Yet what the books described was even more horrifying. Horrifyingly risky. Enough so that Vaska's amber eyes widened in shock as she read them. The only way, beyond the potions, to keep a werewolf from shifting, as far as anyone, ever, had found, was to drain them. Keeping a lycanthrope utterly distracted and exhausted by other tasks would sometimes be enough to keep their body from having enough energy to transform.

That wasn't the terrifying part. That one was the fact that it usually required sex. In other words, she'd have to, effectively, fuck all night when the full moon rose to keep her body drained and distracted enough to not shift. At first, she'd disregarded the whole notion, because any sex while fully in fertile bloom was risky. A whole night of sex was almost a guarantee of having babies.

She had devised a plan, as one in her situation might. It was a desperate plan, with how risky it was, but it was better than the alternative. She needed a cock to ride, for as much of the night as possible. Given that the nights were getting longer, that'd be almost twelve hours of non-stop rutting. The worst part was that the male couldn't cum, which meant that doing it consensually was out of the question. At some point, even the most patient of men would want to spill his seed. Condoms, likewise, weren't an option. Not only did her body react poorly with them, typically dissolving the latex, but sex with one of those sheaths on just wasn't satisfying enough, which meant she'd likely transform, tear the condom off, and then breed herself on whatever cock was available.

Not to mention that even with a condom, men tended to go soft after orgasms, and she couldn't have that. The stimulation needed to be constant and overwhelming enough to preoccupy her body enough to prevent a change, after all.

So, her plan, as it stood, scrawled in her scratchy handwriting on a piece of cardboard:

1) Buy the tightest cockring available (so he won't cum).

2) Find some young and horny-looking guy. Cute is a bonus.

3) Take him somewhere quiet. Note to self, bring rope just in case.

4) You'll know what to do.

Vaska sighed. It was a terrible plan, all things considered. The man she was with might well spill some cum no matter how tight the cockring was. It was, however, the only plan she had, lacking some kind of orgasm-bringing machine to strap herself to. She locked the door to her nest - right now, it was in some kind of maintenance shack on top of one of the many hotels that never opened in the Districts - and set off into the dusk to hunt. She walked a short distance to a bridge, underneath which people usually walked. Finding a spot like that, where people did pass, but not too many people, was key. If anyone saw her carrying away some poor unfortunate, they'd all come after her.Again.

She clasped her talons around a pipe in the bridge's shaded undercarriage, and hung upside down, keeping an eye on everyone that passed as the sun slowly sunk towards the horizon.

A cat. No, _female._Not adequate. Sometimes, she wished she was a lesbian. Life would be so much easier.

Minotaur. Mm. No, too big. She didn't have time to stretch herself to handle one of those.

A horse. Looks too old. Might not get it up.

Dragoness. Oh, that'd be Fyra. Not tangling with her today. Vaska held her breath while Fyra passed beneath her. Probably looking for someone else to add to her growing stable of pets. Soon she's gonna have a whole gang of pets.

But - there! What was that thing? A fox. Effeminate. Female? No. Effeminate, but clearly male, given his gait and how narrow his hips were. Either male, or very good at appearing as such. Vaska waited for the fox to pass underneath her, and then silently dropped down behind him, cushioning her fall with a beat of her wings. She couldn't quite fly, but she could slow a fall, or even glide.

Foxes had knots. She was very familiar with that, and it could be a risk. Still, there were only maybe one or two hours until sundown, and she had no time to be picky.

Walking quietly behind the male, she uncorked a flask of chloroform, dousing a rag with it, and without making any sounds to alert him before it was too late, she dashed into him, tackled the poor male to the ground, and pushed the damp rag over his mouth and nose.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," she hissed. Oh, unless twelve hours of edging counts, anyway.

The fox struggled, but she was stronger than him, having lived a rough life on the streets. Soon, his movements grew sluggish, and his eyes fluttered as he inhaled the burning vapors over and over again. His expression grew relaxed, no doubt against his will, and then, almost blissful - and he was out. Like a light.

Oh, Vaska had felt his sheath pressed against her. He was much bigger than she'd have guessed. She licked her lips, feeing pangs of both hunger and desire. Not too big, thankfully. But big enough that she'd certainly enjoy herself.

She shook her head, trying to will that damp warmth to go away for just a little longer. There was still what might be the hardest part left, taking the fox to her hideout. They didn't exactly have taxis in the Districts, and she was a loner, with few if any friends to call on. Her only option, then, was carrying him.

Ngh. She grunted as she hoisted the fox onto her shoulders. Another reason to not go for a minotaur, fuck. How is he this heavy? She took a few quaking steps, and then reconsidered. She put him down again and cast a quick eye around her surroundings. There was a door in the bridge foundations, a maintenance door if she had to guess. Nobody really did maintenance here, at least not during the night.

It was locked, but the lock was old, and Vaska never went anywhere without her trusty lockpicks. A few twists and rattles later, the door swung open, and she was greeted by a waft of stale air. It'd been a while since anyone had visited. Perfect.

She grabbed the fox by his arms and dragged him into that dark, cramped area like a spider with her prey, and slammed the door shut behind them.

Unlike most, Vaska could see well enough in the dark, and there were a few emergency lights still shining. The room was definitely for maintenance, but it seemed like the workers had used it for leisure too. At the end of the room was a ladder, probably into the undercarriage she'd clung to only moments before, but next to the ladder, there was a sofa. Ratty and old, and stained with god only knew what. Probably something they'd found and brought here way back when they were building the damn bridge. Or some homeless guy had somehow managed it. There was a calendar on the wall next to it, one of those pinup ones that every overly manly man loved to put everywhere. Dated... fuck, forty years ago?

Ah, the sofa could do fine. She'd been dirtier than that. There was that one time when she'd hid in a sewer when the typical panic over vampire victims had picked up again. The sofa was downright pure compared to that. She was panting with comparison by the time the vulpine finally slumped onto it, setting off a cloud of dust that left her coughing and wheezing while trying to catch her breath.

Vaska looked at her watch. Sundown would be happening right now. Then, the moon would be in the sky in just a few more minutes, and she'd transform. Well, unless the plan worked, that was. The fox stirred, apparently beginning, however slowly, to recover.

"Oh, I know what'll get you up," Vaska purred. She had no idea who this person even was, and while her wolf side had plenty of experience in getting rutted by strangers, it was still a somewhat new and naughty experience for her conscious half. Her hand slipped into the fox's lap, squeezing his sheath through his jeans. Yeah, he's a big boy alright, Vaska thought to herself, and a wide lusty grin split her muzzle open. Bet he's tasty too. But if he's drained, he'll not even get hard.

"W-what are you..." the fox groaned, looking as if his eyelids were just a little too heavy to fully open.

"Like I said. I won't hurt you. You'll just get to fuck me all night," Vaska smiled. She did try to offer the fox her most genuine smile, as she was excited about this, in a dumb and primal way, but with her sharp fangs glinting in the flickering lights, it probably didn't come across that way.

A little slash of her claws and the male's belt came undone. A tweak and a tug and his jeans were down around his ankles, leaving him clad only in that pleasantly bulging underwear.

"But I don't want-" he spoke, hoarsely.

"Doesn't matter what you want. For tonight, you're just a cock for me," Vaska growled. "I recommended at least trying to enjoy it."

She pulled her ragged hoodie over her head. She didn't have much in the way of breasts - just two slight bumps - but what she did have were six nipples, each perky and excited over what was about to happen. Some did find it incredibly erotic, others perhaps not so much. She kept an eye on the fox to figure out which group he fell into.

"You've never wanted to fuck a vampire bat in a dank, filthy room nobody in the Districts even knows about?" she continued, a palm on the fox's chest forcing him back down as he tried to stand up. "I guess it's an acquired taste."

Vaska eased her pants down, noticing how wet she already was when the damp, cold air touched her spade. A soaked mess, more than just wet, with her spade already twitching and clenching in anticipation. Her lust hung from that eager, fertile hole in slippery strands of arousal. The scent of her in heat, at least, was damn near a universal aphrodisiac for any men. Except the gay ones, as she'd learned the hard way.

The fox, though, inhaled. Vaska watched his nostrils flare as he took in that heat-stench. His sheath swelled, instinctively reacting to the pheromones. Good, he's into it. Should make this easier.

"Like that, do you? Yeah, you do," she rumbled, hooking a pair of talons into the waistband of his boxers and giving them a yank. The flimsy fabric tore easily, leaving the fox's masculine pride and joy on full display. Oh, big balls too, she observed. Probably full of sexy c- fuck, none of that's ending up inside you, you dumb slut.

Her mind was already growing foggy, from the combined onset of heat and the first tingles of transformation. Vaska realized she had to hurry. She dug through the pockets of her discarded pants for the cockring, and once she found it, she let out a growl of disapproval at the fox still not being erect, only peeking.

She dipped a pair of fingers into her slavering honeypot, gathering up a small measure of her pheromone-laden juices, and clasped her wettened hand over the fox's muzzle, straddling him in the process. "Take a deep breath," she rumbled. "Like I said, you'll be my fucktoy regardless of what you want."

He resisted only briefly with that sweet and tangy aroma tickling at the most primitive parts of his brain, and after a few moments, he breathed in again, more deeply this time. A shudder went through his body as Vaska smeared the rest of her juices over and into his nostrils to make sure he'd be smelling her cunt all night. "Ngh, fuck, that's... good," He huffed, his hips involuntarily thrusting upwards, and Vaska quickly felt his swelling shaft press against her spade.

"Fucking right it is," she growled, and reached down to slip the ring onto his shaft the moment she figured he was fully erect. All the way down, snug against the very base of his cock. There we go. Even if he cums it's all gonna stay insidehim, not me. Wait, above the knot or under it? She'd never used a cockring before. Under the knot would be safer, but then his knot might not swell at all, and she definitely wanted to knot-fuck herself on that sexy rod. Probably needed to. And the rings stayed on knotless cocks just fine, didn't they? She left it just above that ever so slightly swollen bulb, giving it a firm tug to make sure it'd not come loose, and it seemed to be stuck. Great.

Though her primal and increasingly prominent animal urges demanded she take it off and just let things happen as nature intended, Vaska was determined to retain enough self-control to avoid meeting the fate that'd seemed inevitable just a few days ago. She didn't want to be bound anywhere by kids, even if she had the means to take care of them. She enjoyed her way of life, in a way.

"You know the average dude would kill for this," Vaska grinned at her prey, raising herself up just enough to nudge the fox's leaking, canine tip against her spade. "And you're getting it for free, you big slut. Just don't cum," she snarled, leaning in to press her sharp fangs against the fox's neck for emphasis, and then sank down onto his cock.

It was like a choir of angels. The initial slippery stretching of their union made both moan in unison, and Vaska could feel the itch of her lycanthropy waning, however briefly. The fox was like a steel rod inside her, harder than even the average young man thanks to the cockring, pressing against parts she didn't even know she wanted. A little buck of her hips and she sung out in pleasure, dimly hoping that the maintenance room - or the noise of traffic passing above them - would be enough to drown her out. Then again, who would investigate strange moaning from a bridge's foundations? In the Districts, of all places?

Gods, is he ever big. With the thick, heated lust drooling from her spade, and the added stretchiness that state brought with it, Vaska could handle his cock, but not easily. Then again, feeling him inside her like that, long and girthy, was enough to make her shiver.

Vaska gyrated her hips, revelling not only in how the fox's cock seemed to know exactly which inner inch of her to rub against, causing her short tail to curl with pleasure, but also in the power she had over him. Gone was that initial hesitation; even if he'd started off unwilling, he wasn't unwilling now, his urges having taken over the moment his cock had sunk into her warm, vice-like embrace.

She felt his cock throb inside her, but none of that sticky, belly-swelling heat followed, reinforcing her lust. Her hips kept moving, raising and lowering herself on that beautiful, wonderful cock, until she quickly found herself just on the edge of orgasm.

In that moment, she grabbed the fox's chin and forced his lust-glazed eyes to make contact with hers.

"F-fuck it, I'm gonna- gonna cream all over that f-fucking cock of yours," she panted, just as aroused as the poor male, except that she was going to get release. Lots and lots of release. "Nngh-" Vaska groaned, claws digging against the fox's chin as another few deft motions of her hips brought her over that glorious edge.

She stiffened, and then her back arched with a loud, shrill cry of pleasure as her cunt clamped down hard on the fox's cock, and it was amazing, each spasm of her sex around his melting more of her conscious mind into white-hot, shivering goo, it seemed. Nothing existed except his cock and her thrumming, pulsating sex, feeling so incredibly good she felt tears running down her cheeks for the first time since she was a mere child.

But she never stopped moving. Even in the throes of that shattering orgasm, she kept riding him, as if on autopilot, stretching and prolonging her orgasm, and immediately beginning to build towards a new one the moment the first faded into a tingling afterglow. She found herself no longer able to speak, as focused as she was on that moment of pleasure she intended to stretch out over the whole night.

The sex took on a tantric quality after a while, of her maintaining that shivering plateau of a near-constant orgasm. After a few hours - had it really been hours? - her thighs burned, aching with the effort, but with how utterly under her spell the overstimulated fox was, there was an obvious option. She yanked herself off his cock and flopped down onto the couch with her legs spread and her spade dripping, gaping with lust. It didn't take more than that; the fox was on top of her in an instant, sliding his manhood back into that warm, addictive place and thrusting into her in a desperate frenzy.

Vaska wasn't sure he even knew he had the cockring on, only that he was _constantly_throbbing now, probably just on the edge of relief, himself, and yet unable to ever get there. The thought excited her even more, and she hooked her legs around his ass, rocking against his thrusts.

Maybe she could get into this. Just bringing herself to orgasm after orgasm and denying her partner any. Another quaking climax shook loose those frayed, conscious thoughts again and she howled with joy as those convulsions nearly made her legs cramp around the fox's body, holding him inside her for a few moments. Oh, this was the best. Way better than waking up with no memories. Suddenly, her eyes widened as she felt an immense slurp, and felt even fuller, realizing quickly that she was wet and loose enough now to take his entire knot. Another thrust yanked it out again, and she squealed with raw, carnal need. In. Pop._Out. _Pop. She came again almost immediately, as if her climax never stopped again, legs and arms trembling, and between her legs, that wonderful desperate throbbing continued, responding to what seemed like every spasm of her inner muscles.

Then, she was on her knees, her face resting against the filthy sofa as her lover continued rutting into her soaked sex. By now, the room smelled more like her cunt than the dust and grime that'd filled the air earlier.

She didn't notice that the next time the fox's knot slipped into her, there was just a little more suction. The fox, however, did. He felt the ring slip off his cock and suddenly, the pressure in his balls was building at lightning speed, as if his body suddenly realized it had an opportunity to actually seed the bat. He tried to hold back, but it all happened too fast with the constant massaging and sucking that Vaska was subjecting his poor, overstimulated cock to.

Vaska, herself, only felt him swell a little more, unaware that his seed now had a straight path to her impatiently awaiting eggs. He throbbed, heavily, but he'd done that before, countless times, and so she merely enjoyed that delicious sensation. But then, his shaft bucked again, buried to the hilt inside her, a series of rapid pulsating spasms that were followed by a warm, tickling sensation inside her. Before she could even realize or understand what was happening, an immense wave of satisfaction swept over her, taking her breath and thoughts away as another orgasm crested in her body.

Her body drank deeply of his lover's seed. Eagerly, thirstily, her cervix dilating and dipping into the bountiful, virile mess pooling over it, letting it seep into her very core. Each of her orgasmic spasms milked it deeper. And there was nothing she could do but incoherently moan and whimper as her body finally got what it had been craving, in rich, warm spurts. And he, just as nature intended, could do nothing to stop giving her every drop of his seed.

Well, until his orgasm ebbed, anyway. He watched, in slowly dawning horror, as anxiety in turn dawned on Vaska's face as she felt that thick mess inside her. That was why she'd felt so satisfied, all of a sudden. Her mind was a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. The strongest was panic; she could practically _feel_the fox's little swimmers rushing towards her eggs. And yet, there was a tangible sense of satisfaction in the background. If this was how good getting bred while in heat felt, she realized she might've just gotten hooked, with a better understanding for why her werewolf side always sought it out.

Finally, her thoughts caught back up with her and she stiffened. "W-what, no, you didn't just-" she managed to stutter, and then wrenched herself off his cock despite his knot, squatting on the floor and frantically trying to scoop out his potent seed from inside her, managing only to pack most of it firmly against her cervix, the globs sticking to her inner walls. Plenty gushed out over her hand, too, but it was merely excess. She shot the fox a murderous glance, though preoccupied as she was, there was nothing she could do except try to leak out as much of his rich sperm as possible.

He, despite the immediate and immense danger, couldn't help but feel a thrilling tingle of satisfaction at seeing his cum leaking out of the nameless hybrid. The primal satisfaction of a breeding done right only lasted a short while, though, before his survival instincts began to surface through that thick, lusty mental haze.

What was he to do but leave? The wolf-bat seemed like she'd tear his throat out the moment she stopped frantically trying to prevent her pregnancy. The fox snuck out and away, his legs wobbly and his gait unsteady - not to mention the agony of his rubbed-raw sheath pressing against his jeans without any underwear - but he did manage to leave.

While it'd certainly seemed terrifying at the time, he couldn't stop thinking about that night. Oh no, as one would expect from a young, virile male, his thoughts kept returning to those events. Of him fucking - or perhaps getting fucked - by the bat for endless hours. While he'd rub himself to those thoughts for weeks and months to come, none of those orgasms quite reached the same blissful peak as he had, that one night.

Well, at least not until he heard a knock on his door. First a knock, then a more _insistent_knock. He hastily stuffed his erect shaft into his jeans once more and went to answer it. The moment he turned the lock, the door slammed open, and Vaska barged in.

"Fuckin' finally," she swore, making her way to the living room and flopping down on the sofa like she owned the place. Which, in her mind, she did.

She looked a little different than she had only a few months ago. As one might've expected, her belly was swollen with an obvious pregnancy, and yet to everyone's surprise, she was wearing a belly-cut shirt to show of it off. One of her taloned hands traced over it as the fox stared at her in shock.

"Well, it's your pup. Or pups. Only fair you take care of them and me. I think I'll be aiming for a career as a housewife," she yawned, leaning back and spreading her legs about as wide as they could, fully intent on claiming his space as her own.

Her crotch was bare, a handy slot sliced into her underwear to leave her spade open. She was already wet, and the fox couldn't help but freeze - and swell - at the sight and scent of her. A flashback, though a pleasurable one, that triggered all those masculine instincts and urges anew.

"So stop staring and fuck me?" she growled. "You have no idea how fucking horny I am like this. Like..." she squeezed her breasts - a little larger and fuller than the fox remembered them - and let out a loud moan. "Even these are so goddamn sensitive. So yes, come over here and fucking rut me," she ordered, baring her teeth. "And then make dinner, I'm eating for two. Or god knows how many..."

Vaska reached to casually fondle her glistening spade. The fox could do nothing but obey. Perhaps he didn't even want to. There were, one might imagine, worse fates than serving an incredibly hot, pregnant wolf-bat all night and day.

He dropped his pants and sunk into her with a happy, mutual moan.