FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Monroe hummed tunelessly to himself as he sorted through the pictures on his laptop. Each photo showed a stallion enjoying either a personal strip show, or a more intimate relationship with said strippers on the side. While being a confidence man was never an easy gig, some cons were still useful in this day and age, like the badger game. Though this was one of the few moments he didn't need to trick his target into blackmail. The data was already there, and he just needed pictures for it.

At a glance, they were just standard cheating pictures. But when Monroe dug deeper, he could tell that the 'girls' the stallion was with weren't such. Course a photo with him and a more manly man didn't hurt. Given the stallion's connections, the rat wondered if his target was bisexual, or simply closested. He brushed the thought away, no point in getting too invested. He was here to make money, not discover secrets.

'Dear Mr. Burgram.

Attached below are pictures from your various nights at respective gentleman's clubs. Specifically on their more specialty nights. Now while I am not one to judge one's enjoyment, I will say that given your wife's political stance, this doesn't look very good for her career.'

Monroe chuckled at the thought of Mr. Burgram reading that opening line with wide-eyed terror. Now Monroe wouldn't call himself a good person. He'd scammed practically anyone to get ahead, and it wasn't because he disliked people. No, he loved people. He just couldn't help thinking of new ways to pull the rug out from under their feet. And if he could get paid to do it, all the better.

Besides, this time he could at least use the moral highroad to his advantage.

'While I'm sure you and your wife have talked for hours on end about what you do in your personal time. Her supporters and backers are likely not keen on the rampant homosexuality going on in her household. What could be more career ending than being cucked by the very thing you're standing against? Luckily for you, this is not personal. Below are instructions to transfer money to an account. I have amounts listed in cold hard cash, or in whichever cyprotcurrency you'd prefer to transfer in. You have eight hours to comply, or these images will be sent to not only every major news source in the country, but several local stations around your wife's state and district. If the money is transferred, you won't see these pictures ever again. Have a nice day.'

He used to give 24 hours, but that gave his marks too much time to think. Eight hours was plenty of time for someone to check their emails, personal accounts especially. And the shorter time-frame would have them panicking, watching that ticking clock and struggling to think of a way out. There were some, Monroe knew there always would be an escape. But he had those areas covered. This wasn't his first scam, and it wouldn't be the last.

Besides, men were easy. Unlike ladies, men were too unrestrained in their emotions. Their pride got the better of them, and when they'd been tricked they deny until they were blue in the face. Women, funnily enough, had better emotional control.

The front door of their temporary apartment home clicked open. A short rat with long blonde headfur, golden hoops in their ears, and a bright colored plaid top and white skirt walked into the room carrying two heavy bags of clothes. Pink high heels clicked across the wooden floor with confidence and flair, just as they'd sounded when Sasha left this morning to go shopping.

"Oh Daddy," Sasha smiled, pulling away his sunglasses to wink at the larger rat, "Can I have another five hundred? There was this fantastic pink dress at the boutique that I just have to have."

Monroe, signing off from his computer, was about to ask what had happened to the thousand he'd given his son this morning, but the shopping bags from the crossdressing college-boy's hands answered that question enough. "Don't you think you've bought enough, princess?" He asked, not trying to sound frugal. If there was anything he didn't mind putting money into, it was his son. "Seems like you've gotten plenty of extra accessories."

The smaller rat pouted, putting his knees together and looking up with puppy dog eyes. So much like his mother. "But daddy, you said that I should find the best outfits for disguises. That pink dress is perfect for a night on the town."

It's true, he did say that. Sasha was more than just his son. Rather, he was an accomplished con man and had been so since the boy could talk. His short stature and impressive acting had him fit plenty of roles, from the lost child, to just a simple shortstack prostitute to get incriminating photos. The latter were harder on Monroe. Watching his precious boy please other men made him feel a little sick, but Sasha was a grown adult and could do what he wanted.

"I'm sure you have plenty in those bags, pumpkin," Monroe argued gently, sitting his massive frame down against the bed. With their difference in size, it was hard to believe the two were related at all. Which made their cons both a blessing and a curse. Whenever they went somewhere new, they had an advantage to divide and conquer without anyone thinking they'd be sharing information. But the two couldn't stay as long as other conmen, being easy to spot in a crowd. He figured they had two days tops before needing to head out again, but Monroe already had another scheme and destination in mind. Plus having friends with cheap AirBnB's helped. "What did you end up getting?"

Sasha pushed his bags to the side of the bed. "Oh, the usual. Makeup, contact lenses, a few wigs. It's just..." His well manicured hand brushed against Monroe's thigh, "Well it's just so hard to find clothes my size. And that pink dress was exactly it."

"Oh?" He smiled, feeling his son's touch crawl up his leg and against his crotch, "Is that so?"

He nodded, "Yes, daddy. It's such a cute dress too. Short skirt so I'd have to tuck, but I do that day to day anyway." Bare knuckles ground against the fat cock underneath his pants, helping the blood flow to his erection. "I just know you'd love to see me in it. It's the kind of dress that makes me wanna give a special dance."

"A special dance?" Monroe repeated, grinning ear to ear as his erection swelled underneath his pants. "Hmm...I don't know. I'm sure you have enough clothes for our lines of work."

"Please, daddy?" Sasha said with a pout. "I'll do anything for it." Monroe knew he meant it, but the added feeling of his son's lips against the outline of his cock helped seal the deal.

"Well, daddy has had a long day of research." Monroe leaned back, giving an easy view of his tented loins, "He could use a little relaxation." Sasha licked his lips and slowly pulled the zipper down. It took some fishing to get the older rat's large cock out, ending with its tall shaft standing tall and needy. With both hands, his son pulled back the cockflesh, exposing that sensitive head dripping with pre.

That lovely little tongue started at the bottom, working its way up the shaft while fingers massaged the pink head. Monroe leaned back, sighing gracefully at his son's technique. He knew just where to start. "Yeah, worship daddy's rod you little slut."

"That's right," Sasha cooed, "I'm your dirty little slut." His lips embraced the tip, tongue swirling about with warm breath steaming down. Monroe fought the urge to grab his son by the hair and force him down, making him gag on his rod. There would be plenty of time for that later. For now, he wanted worship.

And it might just earn his spawn that dress.

"Better than your mother," the rat muttered, delighted at the hands slowly pumping his shaft. "You got her lips, but the talent's all yours." Sasha didn't answer, too busy swallowing the wide rod in his mouth to give a cute comeback. Monroe meant every word. His old partner was no better than a dead fish in bed, turning any of their more sexual schemes into risks. But Sasha? If he were a worse man, Monroe might have just set the shortstack rat on the street charging one hundred a pop.

But he couldn't do that. He knew plenty in his circle of lowlives who'd done that. But Monroe loved Sasha too much to share those holes. "That's it." His hand grabbed the blonde headfur below as Sasha began to gag, "Choke on it, princess. Think about that dress." He guided his son's head along his shaft, carefully bobbing him up and down. Sasha would complain later about ruining his hair day, but what was one more trip to the salon compared to making his daddy happy?

"Fuck...that's it. Breathe through your nose like I taught you." He was close now. No amount of endurance could last inside the diminutive rat's tight throat. Monroe tried to hold it back, to keep the pleasure building. But the dam's walls were cracking. With both hands he held his son down, gritting his teeth at the sudden surge in his crotch. "Fuck!" He moaned out, keeping Sasha down so every spurt went down to his gullet. An early and healthy snack for his figure.

A few quick pats on his thigh had Monroe letting go, giving his son the freedom to pop off and gasp as one single strand of cum formed a crude bridge between his cock and mouth mere seconds before snapping. The sultry shortstack licked his lips and smiled with desire looking up to him. "So, daddy, did I earn that dress?"

"By god, I do spoil you, don't I?" Monroe said with a nod. Sasha giggled and ran his fingers through his hair, pouting at how messy he'd made it.

"I just got this done today..."

"I'm sure a quick wash will fix it."

"A quick wash won't bring out what the salon did." He pouted again, "I think I need a manicure too."

"Alright, alright." Monroe could see what his son was doing, and damn it all his post-nut clarity did little against his son's flirtations. "I'll pay for those too. But we might as well hurry up. Those stores can't be open forever." Sure enough, they weren't, but the duo had arrived in time to get last minute touch ups for Sasha. Highlights in his hair, pretty pink polish across his claws, and of course the pink dress. It was sluttier than Sasha described it, acting as a single garment with a tight skirt that fit snug around the young adult's bubbly ass. It certainly gave Monroe ideas for an order, one he secretly made while Sasha had his toes done.

By the end of the evening, they decided to hunker down in a quiet little restaurant. Given their size difference (and Monroe's freakishly large size in general) the duo were met with a few stares. Not enough to turn them away, but enough to remind him why he and Sasha couldn't do basic duo scams often. Hard to run such schemes when you stand out.

"Oh, they have gnocchi." Sasha dug through the menu, captivated by all the options. Monroe found himself preoccupied with a different selection. As soon as they arrived, he'd sworn he saw a familiar face in the background of the restaurant. Now, with their corner booth, he had a clear sight to confirm it: His blackmail victim was sitting across the restaurant, face deep in his phone while his wife tried to talk with him.

Oh, what could they be on about? He wondered. Had he revealed the blackmail? Or was he the kind of husband to keep such things secret? His own prior experiences reminded him that couples who kept too many secrets didn't last long, but he wasn't there to judge. What became of their marriage was of little consequence. All that mattered was him being paid.

But, try and he might, he couldn't stop peeking over. Monroe was subtle enough to not draw attention. Being as big as he was, he needed to develop such skills as a conman. The horse looked exhausted, eyes straining at the phone with a hint of sweat staining his armpits.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" Sasha leaned into the table, resting on his arms.

"Oh, nothing." A little white lie that his son saw through. Monroe rolled his eyes, "Well I just noticed my latest mark across the way. If I remember right, he's got around..." He squinted at his watch, "Three hours left to make the transfer. It must be eating away at him."

"Do you ever feel guilt for it?"

"Do I ever," he blinked, staring back at the oddly serious expression across his son's face. "What? I mean, I've had poor jobs, but...are you ok?"

The smaller rat sighed and leaned back, "It's just, well sometimes I worry about what we're doing. I know I should eventually get a college degree, at least to give myself an out, but I like the lifestyle. But not everyone we target seems to deserve it, ya know?"

He'd only heard those words once before, from the very mother who'd birthed their boy. He took a deep breath, "Sasha, if you're really uncomfortable with what we do, we can find an alternative. I know plenty of people who can offer me a real job. It'd just mean we couldn't afford as much, and wouldn't travel as often. So maybe it's best if you think about that."

Sasha nodded absentmindedly, not to Monroe's liking but he decided not to push it. Their night went quiet soon after, with his focus on the stallion in the corner, arguing with his wife on their next step. "Welcome to Peroni's," A chipper dalmatian in uniform said as she approached the table. "I'm April, your server for this evening. Is it just you?"

Monroe turned to see Sasha missing. "No, it's also-" His fly came undone underneath the table. Oh you dirty little bitch, he thought, not daring to look down. "My...date is in the restroom. But I know what they want."

"Of course!" She pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, "Shall I tell you about tonight's specials?" The lips embracing his burgeoning cock told him to nod. Sasha was a playful one, but in public? Well that was a new beginning for the rat. She went on and on about the various soups and salads available, all while Sasha had his way with the sausage between Monroe's legs. His fingers dug into the tablecloth, his breathing stiffened. "Are you ok, sir?" April asked.

"I'm fine. Just, well, it all sounds so good. I'll have the chicken parmesan, and my date will have..." His eyes scanned down the menu, "The egg-" a soft nip to his balls reminded Monroe what his boy wanted. "Sorry, the chicken gnocchi soup."

"Great, and do you want breadsticks?" The teasing of his tip gave him the leeway to nod. As soon as April left, Monroe checked to find if no one else was watching before reaching down and pulling those wonderful lips off.

"Really?" He whispered, "At a restaurant? What's gotten into you?"

Sasha giggled, taking back his seat, "Or you can't tell me you didn't like it, Daddy."

"Of course I do, sweetums." Monroe's expression caught itself between a grin and a scowl, "But in public like that?" His tone grew hushed and biting. Sasha, out of anyone, knew better than to fool around in public like that. Or was that the point? Yes, he saw it in those puppy eyes the small rat returned, mixed with the pretty little bout. His boy wanted a punishment.

Such a spoiled little brat. "Go to the bathroom, and find an empty stall. Text me when the place is empty." Sasha's face beamed. He hopped from his seat and practically waddled over to the nearest restrooms. Five minutes later, Monroe received a quick little text that everything was clear. He found his son in the largest stall in the back, plenty of room for what he had in mind.

"Oh, daddy." His son's hand brushed against Monroe's crotch, "You've got such a filthy mind."

He did, but it wasn't what the younger rat had in mind. "Your panties," Monroe growled, grabbing hold of Sasha's hand, "Take them off." Giving only a coy nod, Sasha slipped off his pink g-string and handed them over. Monroe balled them up and stuffed them into the brat's maw, "You best be silent, you little slut," he whispered, grabbing his son and holding him atop his lap. "Because Daddy's gonna teach you a lesson about being incognito."

When it came to cocks, Sasha wasn't small down there. Monroe had enough friends who figured his son was one of those chastity only sissy bitches. But he couldn't do that to Sasha, not unless he was really bad or needed to stay soft for a job.

His wide hands clasped around the little bitch's rod, thumb grinding against the head. Sasha bit into the makeshift gag, struggling in his father's arms. "Shh, bitch," Monroe whispered, "Too much noise and we'll get caught. Now, you don't get to cum until I say, otherwise you'll get a punishment. And not the fun kind." He squeezed Sasha's balls for emphasis, making the diminutive ditz harder in response.

This brought back memories. Nightly passions with the boy's mother, deep in crowded clubs or back allies. The risks, the dangers, and the ever loving pleasure of feeling someone squirm in his arms. Sasha mewled and moaned, legs desperate to stay still as Monroe's single hand enveloped his tool and pumped the boy. Just a wee bit too tight for him, enough to make him hate it just as much as he loved it. "Don't cum, you two-bit bimbo," Monroe chuckled.

The bathroom door swung open. He stopped, listening to the heavy clops of hooved feet step across tiles. Could it be? He arched his head just enough to peek through the slot, seeing the horse he'd been blackmailing standing at the urinal, muttering swears as he emptied his snake.

He resumed jacking. Sasha froze in terror and bliss. They both knew what could happen now, but Monroe's switch had been flipped. His son bit his lips to keep silent at the furious pumping. Not yet, Monroe thought, not yet. The little bitch had to hold out, else they'd be in trouble.

A little squeak escaped him. From the crack in the stall, Monroe saw the horse's ears twitch, his head turning to look back at the door. He said nothing, looking away with disinterest at the hidden pair of rats. One flush and a rinsing later, and they were alone again.

Reading the squirms of Sasha's hips, Monroe's hand clasped around his son's maw. Silencing him tight while those hips bucked and kicked, painting his grip with seed. "Who said you could cum?" He whispered, pressing the drenched hand against the brat's maw. "I didn't say you could cum. So who said you could?"

"S-sorry daddy, I-"

Two fingers pushed against the boy's mouth, "I don't want apologies, I want action. I didn't say you could cum, and you did. You know what that means." He grinned ear to ear, "A perfect little punishment for tomorrow. Now do your father a favor and clean this mess." Like the dutiful boy he ultimately was, Sasha licked and sucked his seed off Monroe's fingers. He had no doubts Sasha would ponder on what sort of punishment he had planned. He also knew that not one hint would be given, all to let his son stew in trepidation of what was to come.

***

He made sure to rise up early in the morning, while Sasha still slept besides him. Having a vibrating watch on his wrist made sneaking out of bed all the easier. After dinner last night, Monroe arrived to find the deposit had been made, and now they had no reason to stay in this town. So he set about packing, but not before taking some restraints out of the trunk of his car. Soft silk rope, a heavy pink gag, and an anal hook, perfect for what he had in store.

Sasha stirred in bed as he went to work, carefully tying the short rat's arms behind his back, then his ankles together. It was the gag that woke him up, his scream silenced quickly at the wide ball shoved deep into his maw. "Shh, my little bitch," Monroe whispered, petting his boy's scalp, "Just starting your punishment. Nothing to worry about. Well..." He grinned, "Something to worry about, but I know that erection isn't just morning wood." He flicked the tip tenting under the boy's pink panties to be sure.

Sasha watched like a helpless damsel as Monroe put everything away. He took care of the boy's hygiene as well, brushing his teeth while the bound boy stood atop his tippy toes. Then came the bag. A wide blue luggage bag filled with their dirty laundry. With some added rope and lube, he hogtied his son and tied the knot to the anal plug, then stuffed the boy deep inside. "Don't worry, I'll have a zipper opened just enough for air. See you at our new hideout."

With one final check to make sure his son's bag was safe and locked in the backseat, Monroe buckled in and hit the road. There was always something so fun when it came to having a victim in his backseat. The trunk would be even better, but he had little way to keep objects secure enough for safety inside. Still, it had him feeling like a nefarious villain, driving across state lines with a damsel in the backseat.

For safety reasons, he had to give Sasha time to stretch and adjust. Blood clots could come easily with ropes too tight, and an hour in one position was bad enough. But he would always return to the bag, gagged and sometimes blindfolded to add to the suspense of what was to come.

Twelve hours later, Monroe found himself driving through the rough side trails of a forest path. A cabin rolled out in the distance, his safe and quaint personal home where he could lay low and think up new schemes. Only a few dear friends knew of this place, and one had already told him his package had been delivered.

"Has the short faggot enjoyed the ride?" He teased, hauling the bag Sasha had been locked in from the car and heading inside. His son nodded, struggling for fun at his father's hold. The first floor was roomy enough: one bedroom, one living room with a connected kitchen, and an office. All a simple cover decked with woodsman paraphernalia. Underneath an indigenous patterned rug lay a latch to a special cement walled cellar, filled with not only provisions but toys, extra torturous furniture, and a holding cell. Not one he'd ever used for targets, but they played fantastically well whenever Sasha played the honey-pot to be kidnapped and ransomed off to the fool in love.

And already there was the package he desired. Laying Sasha against the red sheeted bed, he opened the box and found the pink latex attire ready. "So, for the rest of your punishment, I figured a reminder is in order," He pulled his hand through the hood, fingering it like a puppet in his son's direction, "At least this time, you won't be bored in the middle of nowhere."

The suit stretched tight across the boy's body. More than once did Monroe need to thumb something through for his son to fit. Squeezing the ears, tightening around the legs. Sasha giggled throughout, his dick bobbing hard despite both of them knowing he'd never get to use it. With one final pull of the zipper, he stepped back and admired his work. A small and pink latex mouse, standing to his waist with a coy smile hidden underneath the mask. "Hmm..." He pulled an attachable blindfold from the box and clipped it across his son's face, "Let's see how long you can go without needing to see. Relying on me to do just about everything. Won't that be fun?"

"Don't forget the mittens, daddy." Sasha held out his hands, "Can't have me undoing my zipper so easily."

"Oh but of course, of course." How could he forget? With the mittens pulled on tight, Sasha was helpless to whatever whims Monroe had in mind. And he had plenty of whims. Grabbing the doll by his pink leather collar, he shoved his little gimp to the bed and forced his ass up. The suit was designed to leave the ass exposed, showing off the delicious butt for anyone's use. "I think we should make this a matching shade." Monroe forced his son's mouth open wide with a sizable ring-gag, letting his tongue lazily hang out while he couldn't utter a single proper word. Locking those wrists backward and the legs apart, he perused the toy wall until a lovely leather paddle crossed his eyes.

Wind swept through the holes as he swung, screeching out before striking at his bitch's bare bottom. The gimp squealed in shock, almost musically to Monroe as another hit rippled through those cheeks. He'd never hit Sasha so hard, never force his son's face deep into the bed to muffle out any protest. But this wasn't Sasha, this was a pink latex fucktoy that existed only for his satisfaction.

And the cheeks had to match.

Oh, how they must have burned when he finished. Why, those pink cheeks were practically glowing red. Too far? Monroe shook his head, he went too far. With lube in one hand, and an expert sized set of anal beads in the other, he went to work filling his toy up. Bead by bead slipped inside the pert little hole, earning a subtle moan until all that remained was the loop to pull them by.

Away with his pants, he turned the fuckdoll around and lined his cock through that wide ring. The pink bitch gagged and choked on it, every inch a hurdle and plenty of inches were coming. "Good thing we suppressed that gag reflex nice and proper, bitch." His hand clasped tight, pulling the maw down to his base where pubic hairs brushed against it. "Can't tell you how much I love the full feeling of my cock inside someone's gullet." Part of him wanted to unclip the blindfold and see Sasha's eyes rolling over. But he wouldn't, that'd give the toy some connection to him and he'd go too soft.

"My son lacks one too," He jested, grabbing the head with both hands as he pulled out, "Little slut likes to prance around like a street whore. Showing off his ass as if it's water in a desert. Does a lot to a man, seeing how fuckable his son is." He thrusted forward, slamming his full size down the gullet. "Makes me just want to take him by force. Make him squeal as I pound him raw over and over like the fucking slut he is." No mercy came with the face fucking. Any gag or sputter was met with a tighter grip and a harder push down his maw. "Yeah, choke on it you fucking faggot doll," Monroe said with grit teeth. "Remind me why I should even feed you in the first place."

Nearing his edge, he pulled out and smacked the gimp's face with his fat cock. "Did you like that?" He jested, batting again and again. What moans that came were positive enough for his liking. "Good. Cause now it's time for the main course." Reaching around the pink sissy's backside, Monroe slowly pulled at the beads. One after another, they popped out until all that remained was the gaping hole they filled. Glistening with extra lube, he lined his cock against the pucker and pushed in slowly. "Yes, there we go." His hands held that ass tight. The gimp gasped in his gag, holding their breath as he was stretched further.

Monroe always made sure his son's ass was perfect. Wide enough to accommodate, but tight enough to feel constricted. Much better than the boy's mother, that was for sure. His gimp all but stayed silent as he hilted the bitch, his balls just touching the tiny pair hanging from the pink bitch. "You remember to clench. I'm not fucking a dead fish now."

Hands tight, Monroe pulled back and slammed in half a second. His cock filling and emptying inside that warm crevice quickly as he pistoned into the living fuckdoll. Like a good bitch, he tightened, but that didn't stop him from pushing that encased head deep into the bed to stifle those means between the sheets. He loved to hear them, but they were so much sweeter with effort pushing them out.

"If it were legal," He grunted out, "I'd stick you in a wall and charge one hundred for this ass, and fifty for your mouth. Expensive? Sure," He slapped at the faded pink cheeks, "But you're damn well worth every penny." How close was the bitch to cuming? Monroe was nearing his limit as is, but that prostate had to be straining by now.

Turns out, very. His gimp stifled and twitched, loosening his ass long enough for him to notice. "Oh? Did the little faggot cum?" He teased, slamming hard enough to hear the bed frame creak and bend, "How's that hot and sticky seed feeling inside your suit? Trapped, making you feel all slimy and used?" The joys going on in Sasha's mind, how Monroe wished he could read them.

He clenched. Fingers dug into the backside as his rod filled into the shortstack's backside. His movements slowed, stopping altogether as he rested inside the hot and now creamy backside until he softened and popped out. "I think that was a good first day." Monroe patted the toy's backside, "Let's get you cleaned up."

***

Some targets knew better not to repeat the acts that caused their blackmail in the first place. Others...well repeat customers were a special luxury for Monroe. His contact in the last town called him back up with new pictures of the stag and asked for advice. "I could just take these and blackmail him again. But I feel that'd be in poor taste. What do you think?"

Sasha's answers came with a wet slurp. Monroe sighed, "You're right. This is basically our vacation. Better to let us lay low and cooldown." Pulling out, he looked down to the pink hooded rat and smiled. "And maybe not eat into our budget with another 500 dollar dress."