FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Sandra leapt down from her bunk, rough talons clacking against the tile floor as she steadied herself. A cursory glance around the half-empty dormitory revealed that several others had similar difficulty sleeping in such an intimidating and unfamiliar place, and the Blaziken followed the lead of her predecessors, exiting into the hallway. Stretching as she emerged, her vertebrae let out a series of pops and she screeched inwardly, actively stifling herself to keep from disturbing the others. Securing the door behind her, Sandra rose up onto her toes and swiped her arms back and forth overhead, claws glancing just shy of the ceiling’s riveted surface.

Long legs began striding down the empty hallway, turning one corner, then another, continuing in a loop around the compound’s perimeter until Sandra stood one more outside the dormitory. Her pace quickened and she repeated the route, disregarding door after door: the steaming hiss behind the closed shower door; the low drip of the bathroom with one toilet constantly flowing; the darkened cafeteria still carrying the lingering scent of seafood; a guard station across from the outdoor exit, two males in their twenties eying her as she passed; the gentle splash of lapping water coming from the pool, and the whir of air conditioning in the gym next door; and the dorms again, rustling sheets and faint snores slipping under the door.

Calm walking developed into a gentle trot, and Sandra crossed one arm over her chest bust to contain the overzealous bounce of her ample bosom. The toned muscles in her calves and thighs tightened with every step, and beads of sweat began dotting her feathers and spattering the floor as her brisk pace whipped them away. Her free arm swung at her side as she snapped her fingers, a ball of fire forming in her open palm. Slowing down, the Blaziken cocked her head down to her creation and allowed the faintest of smiles to cross her beak. She closed her fingers around the flames, cradling their warm, glowing essence before breaking into an outright jog.

After about three circuits of the facility’s empty hallways, Sandra halted at the emergence of one of the guards from his post. He stood at the open doorway to his station, leaning against the doorframe and awaiting her arrival as she turned the corner. The Blaziken’s fist clenched, quashing the infant fireball against the calloused gray flesh of her talon, and she slowed, pausing several feet from the human and looking down to meet his gaze. Suddenly uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze, Sandra readjusted her arm to ensure concealment of her crimson nipples, and tucked a talon between her thighs to cover her womanhood.

“Easy there, Buffalo Wings,” he laughed, noting her wariness, “you ain’t got nothin’ I haven’t seen before on prettier girls’n you.”

“What do you want, asshole?” the Blaziken clucked in response, steam flaring from her nostrils.

“You can call me ‘Sir,’ for starters. You’re not special just ‘cause Mister Stafford’s got a hard-on for ya. We know he’s lettin’ ya use your fire, but we can take that away if you start actin’ like a dumb bitch that needs to be taught a lesson. Now. Try again.”

“What do you want,” she grumbled, “Sir?”

“Good girl,” he snarked, strutting forward and patting her on the cheek, “that’s much better. As for what we want, just quit running around like a fucking spaz. We’ve got too much shit to monitor as is without you making an ass of yourself and streaking all over the fuckin’ place.”

“Ah’m just tryin’ to get some exercise. Ah can’t fuckin’ sleep.”

“Hit the fuckin’ gym if you wanna exercise. What are you, five? Have to burn yourself out running around like a Torchic with its head cut off?”

“Ah’ve been locked up for weeks and wanted to stretch out mah legs.”

“Then go out-fuckin’-side. Perimeter’ll keep you in line and you’re not our fuckin’ problem anymore. Just quit dicking around out here. For fuck’s sake.”

A vein in Sandra’s neck pulsed beneath her feathers as she glared through the guard, every muscle in her body tensing up simultaneously. Her head cocked slightly towards the door leading outside, considering the offer for a moment before rejecting the concept internally. Her captors already treated her enough like a feral Pokemon without her roaming the outdoors au natural to fit that perception. Seething, she shouldered past the guard powerfully enough to slam the stunned human back against the wall, and endured the subsequent electric shock as she stumbled around the corner and out of his sight. She collapsed against the wall, wincing and hooking her talons beneath the collar to alleviate the pressure until the coursing electricity finally subsided.

Eventually Sandra recovered, smoothing out her feathers and storming into the gym. Slamming the door behind her, she made a beeline for one of the heavy, maroon punching bags chained from the ceiling and swung a lighted fist into the firm material. Drawing back, the Blaziken attacked again and again, sharp caws ringing out as she scorched the bag to the scent of sizzling leather. Her strikes intensified as images of various humans from the auction house the Stafford homestead flashed before her eyes, including the master himself. Furious talons hammered the bag, bare claws tearing the durable outer shell and spilling sand onto the gymnasium floor until the tattered device tore free of its chains and slumped into a mound at Sandra’s feet.

Adrenaline pumping through her, Sandra turned her attention to the row of untouched bags to her side and quickly went about dispatching them. Flames engulfed her talons as she mercilessly slaughtered each and every one of her inanimate victims, the fire growing so intense that several of the chains melted before she could finish tearing the devices apart. Next, a set of speed bags failed to offer a challenge, exploding in half a dozen hits at best and showering the Blaziken in their ejected sand. She paced the room, circling her foes’ corpses and panting as her mind raced. Her thoughts drifted to memories of the older brothers she had always considered invincible, yet tears welled in her eyes as the knowledge of their capture shattered that image.

With steam practically hissing from her beak, Sandra hoisted a barren rod from the bench press and slung it over her shoulder as she approached the weight set to select a suitable challenge. She secured 100 pounds on each end of the bar and lugged it back to the bench, dropping it into its holder with a hefty clang. Sliding beneath the barbell, her talons wrapped around the coarse iron and she grunted, hoisting it free of its bindings as she fully extended her arms overhead. Coming down, the metal squished into the soft flesh of her bare chest, and she screeched, fighting to push it back to the apex of her reach. The Blaziken repeated this process for a dozen reps, each grunting clang punctuated by an ear-splitting caw, and by the end, finger indentations had melted into the bar.

Clattering the barbell into its rack, Sandra rose to her feet and stomped around the gym, dismissing device after device while stretching her arms overhead and from side to side in the intermittent period. Finally settling on the leg press, the Blaziken hoisted two sets of 300 pound into place and settled back into the machine, bending her knees as she positioned the soles of her feet against the metal platform. Gripping the handles on each side, Sandra closed her eyes and took a deep breath, wiggling her firm rear into a comfortable position against the machine’s cushioned seat. Another deep breath soothed the young girl, her breasts slowly rising and falling in time with the expansion of her lungs. When her eyes snapped open however, the calming state of Zen dissipated, and she simply glared at the taunting weights looming above her, kicking forward and pounding out a first rep.

One…two…three. Sandra grunted as she counted in her head, clenching her beak and stretching her Amazonian legs to their fullest extension. Her thighs began to burn from the weighted pressure, but she continued on, unabated. Thirteen…fourteen…fifteen. The Blaziken closed her eyes once more, gripping the machine more tightly as she squawked in tune with the metal clang of the leg press’ zenith. Sandra’s rhythm steadied, her muscles growing accustomed to the accompanying pain of her intense regimen, and her mind began to wander, combating the inevitable boredom of repetition with fantasy. Twenty-nine…thirty…thirty-one.

Drifting back to her bedroom back in Sallaville, Sandra lay atop her muddled bedspread, puffy crimson nipples straining through the sweat-soaked fabric of a white t-shirt. One talon dipped past the elastic waistband of her gym shorts, unencumbered by underwear of any sort, and delved into the juicy confines of her fiery cunt. She had suffered through her bi-annual heat before, but never as a Blaziken. The torturous yearning deep within her loins had grown exponentially since her evolution, and no matter how often she pleasured herself to a series of earth-shattering climaxes, that aching desire remain unsated, striking back with greater fury each and every time.

Forty-six…forty-seven…forty-eight…one hand unclenched a handle, resting on Sandra’s abdomen and lightly scratching at her feathers.

Despite her mother’s reassurances, Sandra found herself growing more and more desperate with each passing day. Her imagination betrayed her, tormenting every night’s sleep with depraved fantasies involving the untouchable males in her life. Tortured by constant fantasies of her teachers…her brothers…even her own father, Sandra locked herself away in her bedroom, sealed off from the rest of the world for fear of the uncontrollable impulse to mate pulsing away from her virgin pussy. Twisting fingers acted upon those shameful thoughts, each self-induced orgasm driving the Blaziken to further contemplate emerging from her seclusion and claiming the pistoning manhood of the first male to cross her path, regardless of familial relation.

Sixty-seven…sixty-eight…sixty-nine…her other hand raised, cupping a breast and kneading the warm flesh.

Screeching through another orgasm, Sandra rose from her bed, fingers still stroking at her tingling clit as scalding femininity soaked the crotch of her gym shorts and trickled down her bared thighs. Her mind flipped between DJ and Harley, rationalizing that her older brothers had a duty to aide their little sister in her time of need, and she only needed to feel a mate burrowed into her cunt to slake her maddening heat. Panting, she strode to her bedroom door and clicked open the clock, wrapping her fingers around the doorknob to break her self-imprisonment. Her mind fought back, a small piece of rationality screaming in her ear and reminding her that perhaps she had another option.

Eighty-three…eighty-four…eighty-five…a talon drifted down her muscular tummy and teased its way through her pubic fur, the rough flesh brushing over her button before dragging a claw along the length of her slit.

Peering through the drawn blinds of her bedroom window, Sandra gazed across her side yard and into the opposite window of the neighboring house. There, Owen Novak sat at his computer, the chubby Grumpig swigging from a can of cola as he remained oblivious to the desperate Blaziken across the way. Though not conventionally handsome, Sandra drank in the boy’s plush body all the same, outlines of flab visible through his dark t-shirt. Nearly drooling, the girl yanked the cord at her side and drew back the blinds, forcing open the window and leaning out into the warm summer air. Not wanting to draw attention to anyone but Owen, she took a deep breath and unleashed a flamethrower in his direction, the fire stop just shy of his house’s siding.

One hundred and three…one hundred and four…one hundred and five…Sandra adjusted her feet against the platform, spreading her legs as she wriggled an index finger past her quivering labia.

Though he missed the initial blast, Sandra’s second attempt drew Owen’s attention. Removing his headphones, he rolled his chair to the window and nervously looked outside, trembling as he focused intensely on maintaining eye contact lest his gaze drift southward. A part of the Blaziken regretted their previous encounter, which ended with Sandra pummeling the poor Grumpig’s portly stomach and threatening to sic DJ on him if she ever caught him peeping again. His timid expression echoed this sentiment, the boy seemingly worried that he had unintentionally caused another offense. But she had no time for apologies, her heat forcing her to take action as she fumbled around in her desk for a marker and a notepad.

“Are your parents home?” she scribbled in big, bold letters, holding the sheet up for Owen to see.

“Wh-Why?” he called across the yard, hiccupping as she flailed and shushed him.

“Are. Your. Parents. Home?” she wrote once more, underlining the words and shoving them through the open window, tapping on the paper for emphasis.

“Uh…” Owen started to reply, but took the hint and found a magnetic white board with a marker of his own with which to respond, “No. They won’t be home until late. Why?”

“Do you have any condoms?” Sandra wrote bluntly, completely ignoring the boy’s question.

“What? Condoms?” Owen trembled as he held up the white board, fearing some sort of entrapment.

“Just answer the question,” she scribbled furiously, adding again, “Do. You. Have. Condoms?”

“I think so,” Owen responded, gulping and adding several more lines to his message, “why are you asking…what is this…what did I do?”

“Wanna screw?”

“WHAT?!” he bolded his letters, fearing some sort of cruel prank and looking nervously to the other windows of the Tucker household to see if he had any onlookers.

“Please,” she wrote on one page, flipping it and continuing her plea, “I need it.”

“You need it?” Owen replied, confused, yet noticing the Blaziken’s frantic and disheveled appearance.

“Please,” Sandra flipped the page back before adding a new request with an underline, “Screw me!”

Owen sat at his desk, slack-jawed and attempting to process the overload of emotions running through his head. He couldn’t deny a certain level of desire for this prospect, the Blaziken having occupied his fantasies ever since he’d first noticed the girl’s evolutionary transformation across the way. After all, he had a perfect view of a tall, fit and busty goddess who often graced him with her luscious nudity, completely oblivious to his presence. What little resistance remained in the boy found itself overruled by the growing bulge poking through the fabric of her boxers, and he hastily scribbled a response.

“Yes.”

Tossing aside her pen and paper, Sandra hoisted herself through the open window, sitting on the sill and looking down at the two-story drop below. She couldn’t risk traveling through the house; she might change her mind. Or worse, she might stumble across one of the targets of her incestuous fantasies in the midst of her heated frenzy and act out her sinful desires in the worst possible way. Across the yard, the Grumpig waved his arms frantically, trying to dissuade the Blaziken, but down she leapt, powerful thighs compressing as she landed in a heap on a patch of her mother’s tulips.

One hundred and forty-four…one hundred and forty-five…one hundred and forty-six…a thick talon drilled its way into Sandra’s juicy tunnel, pulling out as she kicked the weight back and plunging back in as the pressure pushed down upon her thighs.

Sandra stumbled free of her mother’s garden and bounded forward, long legs striding across the lawn until she found herself at the rear entrance to the Novak homestead. A fist slammed against the thick pane of a sliding door, and her heated breath steamed against the glass. Tail feathers quivered at the base of the Blaziken’s spine and her thighs rubbed together, damp fabric digging into her lips and aiding the torturous heat flowing from her dripping womanhood. Pressing her chest into the door, she pounded the glass, drumming out a continuous beat as she scanned the house’s interior, watching for any sign of life within.

The muffled sound of footsteps reached Sandra’s ears and Owen appeared in the living room, panting and clutching a strand of prophylactics in one hand. The boy’s jaw dropped and he nearly fainted as he first glimpsed the treasure awaiting him: Sandra Tucker delicious glory. Massive, cotton-coated breasts pressed into the door, nipples stiff enough to slice through the glass, and the blue crotch of the Blaziken’s gym shorts darkened with the telltale signs of her blatant arousal. Drooling at the sight of the gorgeous female, Owen’s body aimed for the object of his desire, a tent throbbing against the gray fabric of his exposed boxer shorts. Stumbling forward, he fiddling with the door lock and forcefully yanked the barrier open, assured of the reality of the situation.

One hundred and sixty-two…one hundred and sixty-three…one hundred and sixty-four…Sandra’s hand curved over the meat of her breast and pinched the tender nipple between two fingers, tugging it to a series of heated moans.

The Blaziken’s clothing didn’t make it into the Novak house, discarded on the back porch as the nude Amazon pounced on her prey. Pinning the hefty Grumpig beneath herself, her thighs straddled his waist and scooted lower, grinding the taut flesh of her rear against his bulging erection. Owen gasped and groaned, inhaling the heated scent radiating from his luscious captor and feeling a rush of adrenaline race through his body.

One hundred and seventy-five…one hundred and seventy-six…one hundred and seventy-seven…Sandra pumped deeper into her pussy, another finger joining the fray and spreading her lips wide with the intrusion.

Feeling another pulse of his heartbeat throbbing through his covered length, Sandra reached between her thighs and fished around within the boy’s underwear, wrapping a coarse talon around his girth and giving a firm squeeze. Owen’s eyes squeezed shut and he oinked, his purple face flushing bright red as a spurt of cum sprayed from his swollen cock, glazing Sandra’s hand and the insides of his boxer shorts. Peeling away the Grumpig’s underwear, his erection sprung free, still oozing seed. Beneath her, Owen wriggled out of his shirt, chest and stomach jiggling from the nervous trembling of full exposure himself to his crush. His cock betrayed him, another squirt of cum spurting out against the Blaziken’s bare ass, and Owen’s face burned in shameful embarrassment at his own sensitivity.

One hundred and eight-six…one hundred and eigthty-seven…one hundred and eighty-nine…Sandra panted, cawing out Owen’s name as she imagined his weight bearing down on her.

“I’m s-s-sorry…” Owen squealed, squirming beneath the powerful femme, “S-Sandra, I’ve never d-done this bef-f-fore…”

“Don’t…” Sandra whispered back, her fiery breath washing over his bare chest as she leaned in to affectionately lick the Grumpig’s violet skin, “don’t worry about it. Ah ain’t ever done this either.”

“Y-You just f-f-feel s-so good. S-S-So warm. You’re…p-perfect…and so f-fucking hot…and-”

Sandra gripped the boy’s chubby chin and silenced his stammering praise with a kiss, her beak pressing awkwardly into his snout and pecking painfully at his lips. Owen oinked in surprise, eyes jolting wide, and he found a sudden burst of strength, shoving the Blaziken away. Tracing his tongue over his bleeding lips, he winced, shaking his head in an effort to supplant the pain. Turning his attention back to Sandra, Owen found the beauteous avian lying propped up on her elbows awaiting his response as her breasts rose and fell amidst a series of sharp, nervous breaths. The Grumpig licked his lips once more and crawled forward, squirming between the Blaziken’s thighs and pressing his gut against her toned abs as he initiated a second kiss.

One hundred and ninety-eight…one hundred and ninety-nine…two hundred…Sandra’s thighs burned, lost in her memory as talons scrawled at the tender flesh of her glistening pussy.

Owen’s tongue slipped past Sandra’s beak, the sweltering humidity enveloping the pink muscle as it tenderly explored its new surroundings. The Grumpig’s palm found Sandra’s hip and caressed her muscular flesh, sensing the itch tingling through her entire body. His erection dragged over the Blaziken’s thigh, tickled into another minor ejaculation that coated red feathers in warm, porcine icing. Panting and breaking the kiss, he glanced down between their thighs. Sandra’s womanhood glistened, that fiery scent pervading the whole house, and Owen’s cock throbbed in response, fully aware of its mission. Snagging the discarded prophylactics from the nearby floor, Owen tore open a wrapper and fumblingly rolled the latex down the length of his shaft.

“Are y-you s-s-sure?” he oinked, questioning one last time to ensure his dream remained reality.

Sandra offered no verbal response; her powerful thighs hooked behind the Grumpig’s rear and pulled him in, his cock spearing several inches into her slick womanhood. Squealing as she claimed his virginity, Owen returned the favor, bucking into her damp cave, collapsing forward and nestling his face into the Blaziken’s buxom cleavage. He lasted all of four thrusts before his balls tightened, offering one final slap against his lover’s tight flank as his member hilted within her blazing pussy, and he erupted into a squealing orgasm.

Two hundred and nineteen…two hundred and twenty…two hundred and twenty-one…Sandra released her breast and brought her talon down to aid its sister, pumping meaty digits into her cunt as she rolled her clit between two claws.

Owen oinked and squealed, throwing his head back and flinging the sweat-dripping blonde hair from his eyes as he blasted a thick load into the condom, his momentum keeping him thrusting forward into his avian lover. Though confined within a latex wrapper and considerably cooler than its surroundings, Owen’s climax satiated Sandra’s heat, her tight walls eager to receive his masculine seed. She arched her back and bucked her hips upward to meet his sloppy thrusts, clawing at the linoleum and moaning out his name until her pitch heightened and her words cawed into a series of feral screeches. The Blaziken’s tunnel tightened around Owen’s pulsating tool and she peaked, gushing feminine juices from her stuffed pussy.

Two hundred and thirty-four…two hundred and thirty-five…two-hundred and thirty-six…Sandra screeched in pleasure, her cries echoing off the empty gym equipment as her fingertips splattered hot juices from her tight snatch.

Owen continuing thrusting, squealing all the way through Sandra’s orgasm. Each thrust pumped another spurt of seed into the condom, filling it to bursting as its sloshing girth ballooned within the Blaziken’s cunt. Pulling out, the prophylactic slipped free of the Grumpig’s throbbing organ and splattered to the floor, leaving a sticky puddle in its wake. But still, Owen showed no signs of stopping. He ground his length into Sandra’s clit, pulling their chests apart and thrusting his sensitive flesh through the avian’s tormenting feathers, basting her bare flesh in his arousal. The torment to her sweet little button proved too much for Sandra, and Owen drove her to another orgasm, and another, and a fourth, the Pokemorphs bucking and writhing in blissful agony against one another.

Two hundred and forty-two…two hundred and forty-three…two hundred and forty-four…somehow the Blaziken managed to maintain her pace, her legs shuddering as she rode out her orgasm beneath the crushing weight of the leg press.

Twenty minutes passed before Owen’s orgasm subsided, leaving the Grumpig fully spent and squirting out the last of his cum into Sandra’s sticky feathers. He shared in the muck, of course, his plump gut pressing into the pool of spunk as his fevered panting gasped through the Blaziken’s sandy blonde hair. The Grumpig’s hefty body pressed down into her panting chest, forcing the breath out in sharp bursts as her eyes rolled forward, finally descending from her perpetual climax. With the last of her strength, she managed to roll the larger male aside and collapsed against him, nestling into his pillow-soft chest as she drifted into a peaceful unconsciousness.

Two hundred and forty-eight…two hundred and forty-nine…two hundred and fifty. The weights clanged silent as their base and Sandra’s legs flopped free of the machine, shivering at the Blaziken panted in exhaustion. Soft whispers of Owen’s named floated off her tongue as it lolled free from her beak, and her talons swirled around the slick mess of moist feathers lining her labia, teasing out the last tingling remnants of her orgasm.

“That certainly is an interesting training regimen,” a dominant male voice broke through the silence, “you continue to find ways to impress me, Miss Tucker.”

Exhausted, Sandra’s neck rolled in the direction of the voice and found Martin Stafford, dark bags forming under his eyes as he leaned against the doorway in a pair of striped pajama bottoms that did little to conceal his hairy, wrinkled chest.

“Y-You…” she managed to pant in response, her limbs refusing to obey her commands to rise up from the machine.

“You certainly did a number on yourself, didn’t you Miss Tucker? The guards called me up and I was admittedly irritated to be awoken at such an early hour in the morning. Believe me, those two lackwits shall suffer for this unnecessary disturbance. And be at ease. I am not here to harass you. Despite his best efforts at mimicry, I am not my son, and I have no desires for beasts such as yourself. Nor do I wish to punish you for this public display. Far from it. I would much rather your kind resort to self-pleasure as opposed to mating like feral beasts. In fact, if it would be more convenient, I have an array of genital stimulators you may borrow just such a purpose.

“You are proving to be a handful, Miss Tucker,” Martin said, looking around the room at the piles of tattered equipment left in Sandra’s furious wake, “for this I am glad. That fiery strength, and your fiery temper make you such a perfect Pokemorph specimen.

“Now,” he withdrew a handkerchief from his pants pocket and tossed it at the Blaziken, the silk fabric fluttering over her bare chest, “clean yourself up, and make sure to wipe down the machine. And do try not to fall asleep in here. The guards don’t like having to go searching for recruits at morning roll call.”

With that, Martin departed, leaving the door open to the hallway, and once again, the humiliated panting of Sandra Tucker filled the empty air.