FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

With one hand, the hunter combed back his hair and stood in wait for his prey. It was early in the morning, the sun hidden behind the thick layers of clouds. The morning dew had passed, leaving the ground wet and the dirt soft. The Hunter tightened his grip on his bow and arrow, buried his toes in the soft, wet dirt, eyeing the bait he had left out in the open - the corpse of a blueish utahraptor, naturally, with its' feet cut off.

He had found the bait a few days ago, intently searching for anything big enough that might catch the eye of his prey. The raptor had been alone, separated from his brethren amidst the jungle. The moment the hunter saw it, he knew it would be perfect.

He ambushed by jumping off a tree, landing on its' back, his feet leaving stain marks as he stepped and balanced himself on the enraged creature. He drove his spear through the creature, slaying it instantly. Before he dragged it off to his lair, he took his time examining its' feet. They were larger than his hand, feeling extremely pleasurable to the touch. He wrapped his fingers between the toes, slowly tightening his grip and releasing it, the dirt and mud of sticking to his hand. He inched his face closer, mindful of the claws, and deeply inhaled the scent - the smell of carrion, wet dirt and crushed grass filled his nostrils. The Hunter fell backwards. It was intoxicating. Every time. He did not understand why it had such an effect on him, but he wasn't willing to stop any time soon.

He moved in closer and gently licked the sole, the grime and dirt coming right off. He could stay all day, enjoying his little hobby, but he had work to do, the rewards of which would far exceed what he had now.

He took out a stone knife and sawed of both of the raptors feet, putting one in a make-shift skin bag. He sucked on the toe of the other, letting it hang from his mouth, and he lifted up the carcass of the beast, throwing it over one shoulder. He headed towards his newest campsite, a cave he had found while scouting the area, ready to prepare for his next catch.

Even though he led a nomadic life, he had done all he could to make his cave feel homey. In the center of it, he had made a fireplace, by which he would cozy up in the night. He had left a few animal skins near it to use as covers. On one side he had meticulously placed the feet of all the beasts he had killed, adding the newly caught raptor's. To him, this was a site of worship, one where he would spend a few hours a day, admiring his collection - sniffing, rubbing, licking and kissing the toes and souls of all he had hunted.

And on the wall besides his shrine, with crude drawings he had strategized the plan for his next hunt.

He had just killed an abelisaurus, managing to drive his spear under its' mouth and through its' skull. The corpse had been magnificent - black and orange with slight shades of dark blue. He was about to closely examine its' feet, stepping towards them in a mesmerized state of mind, when he heard a roar from the distance. Tired and weary, the Hunter ran and hid in a nearby bush. And then he saw it.

A beast, the likes of which he had never seen before. Massive, taller than the trees with a demonic look in its' eyes. The tyrannosaurus-rex stepped forward, biting the carcass of the dead animal and throwing it up in the air. It landed right in its open mouth. The beast swallowed it instantly and ran off.

At that moment the Hunter was struck with something, which his primitive mind could not comprehend. At first it was anger. Anger that his prey had been stolen from him. Anger that he had been denied the pleasure he craved from the feet of the dinosaur. Anger that he would never be able to experience it. But at the same time, he felt awe. Awe of the size of the monster. Awe of how it denied him what he craved. Awe of its' genitals, which looked remarkably like his own, only much, much larger. And, most of all, awe of that demon's feet. They were massive, almost as big as him. The Hunter watched, hypnotized, as that creature ran away, the claws burrowing deep into the soft earth, scrapping up dirt and leaving behind massive footprint in its' wake.

That night, as he fell asleep, he imagined them. What it would be like to touch them, to caress them gently and to sniff the stench of earth and mud. He imagined how he enveloped one toe with his entire body, licking and squeezing as much as he could, cleaning it off from the dirt. For every moment he thought about it, shivers ran up and down his spine, exciting him in their odd little ways. It was unnatural for him. He would often get excited when it came to the feet of his prey. But this was something different. He had to have them.

The following days the Hunter tracked down the beast. It wasn't difficult, considering the footprints it would leave, wherever it went. As he followed the lead, he would at times stop and admire the size and depth of the holes left behind, always stopping himself just short climbing inside them and trying to feel the monster's presence. He had work to do. And that, he would have all the time in the world.

He had managed to track the beast down in a cave, where he observed it for the following days, paying close attention to the way its' toes would move and wriggle while it sat still and how its feet would bend whenever it ran out to hunt. Oh, how he admired the beast from afar. The elegance in its step, the curve of its soles. How he wished he could rub up against them, feel them on his skin, in his mouth. He began his preparations.

And now the Hunter stood in silence, the cold mud engulfing his own feet in dirt. He knew the path the demon takes - right through the wetlands, where no other creatures passed, so there was no chance of the bait being stolen. There was silence. For a long while there was silence.

And then came the stomping. From amidst the tree came the beast, its' beautiful, filthy feet crushing the mud and grass in its' path. The Hunter clenched his teeth, readying his bow and arrow, observing his prey. The dinosaur was quick to notice the bait left behind for it. With grace it traversed the field, ready to feast on the corpse, hunger burning in its' eyes, when the unexpected happened.

The monster tripped.

The trap has been sprung. Tightly woven vines wrapped themselves around the legs of the monster, causing the beast to fall. It squirmed on the ground, throwing dirt and mud everywhere.

That was the Hunter's que. He emerged from the mud and bushes and fired a flurry of arrows and the creature's open mouth as it roared, striking him in the gums, the tongue and the roof of the mouth. The Hunter quickly grabbed his trusted spear and ran towards the fallen monster, his bare feet splashing the mud and crushing the dirt and grass. The beast was still on the ground. howling in pain and confusion, and the Hunter was more than ready to take what was his.

He stabbed it once. Twice. Thrice. But to little avail. The wounds were too shallow. It had thicker skin than what the Hunter imagined. To his dismay, the beast did not seem to let up at all. It took less than a few seconds before it managed to free itself from the bindings.

It stood tall and horrific. An ur-demon of the planes. Its' scales a greyish black. Its' member almost reaching the ground and its feet as dangerous as they were alluring. For the first time in his entire life, the Hunter could not move. The monster swung its' tale, sending the man flying across the field. The softness of the dirt broke his fall, but not nearly enough as he had hoped for. He slid in the mud, rolling a few times, before coming to a stop.

When he opened his eyes, he saw his enemy, dashing towards him with a fearsome cry of pain and rage. The Hunter, still holding his spear, tried to move away, but the ground was too slippery, too wet. The monster was above him, its' jaws open, ready to consume the Hunter. He held up his spear and closed his eyes, hoping for a miracle.

And the monster struck.

It attacked with such speed and precision, that it could not stop itself the moment the spear penetrated its's mouth. The spear went right through it, impaling the head of the monster. It died instantly.

The Hunter relieved, clawed his way through the mud with trembling hands. He looked at the monster. He had slain it. The magnificent creature was no more. The beautiful body lay there, motionless, as its' heartbeat seized. Covered in mud, it did not look as threatening as before. It was almost pitiful. There was a note of sadness in the Hunter's heart for what had transpired. He ran his hand across the carcass as he walked towards his prize.

His hand ran over the monster's smallest toe, which was as big as his arm. He felt the excitement. But it was different this time around. It was, more complex and not as basic as before. He took off the animal skins he wore and kneeled naked before his totem. His hand rubbed the other toe of the beast, this one much larger. He leaned in closer and inhaled. The smell of dead beast. Of blood and of rotting flesh. But at the same time it smelled of fruits, juicy and sweet. The smell of the grass of the wet lands, but also the smell of large leaves from the nearby jungle.

He could not take it anymore. The Hunter stood up and stepped onto the giant foot, laying on top of it, allowing it to engulf him I its beauty and mysticism. He rubbed his entire body on the sole, covering himself in more mud and grime. He licked it, eager to feel its essence in him. His mind was in a haze. A divine mist of worship. His heart raced. Once more he was filled with feelings he could not understand - humiliation, pride, domination, humbleness, respect, awe. The ecstasy of gods enveloped his soul as he furiously licked and kissed and rubbed the item of worship.

He could not get enough. He could not smell them, lick them or feel them enough. Those beautiful talons, so gorgeously curved, pieces of wood, dirt and small rocks stuck within them. Nor the toes, which bent in such elegant ways, that could easily grab anything, both with gentle nurture and with murderous intent. Nor the sole, with such a gorgeous curve, able to step and walk on any terrain. The sole in which the Hunter laid, hardly able to comprehend what was happening to him. But he didn't try to. He didn't try to figure it out. He simply followed his instinct, which told him to continue. And he did. He licked and sucked as much as he could.

For the rest of the day, until night began to set, the Hunter indulged in his prize, basking in their beauty, in their divine scent and perfect design. There was nothing more he would have like that to remain there for the rest of his life. To continue with his own primitive form of worship. But he had to move. He knew that. Darkness would soon fall and such a big body would attract numerous scavengers, all unworthy of even being close to his totem. With a heavy sigh, he got up and produced an edged knife of stone with which he began to gnaw at the ankles of the beast. It would take some time, but soon they would be all his. He was going to drag them to his lair. And then the real fun would begin.