FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

He had been traveling for so long, he had nearly forgotten when he had launched himself into the void from his previous stop. Over the ages, he had traversed nebulae and the rings of too many worlds to count. He had zipped past gas giants, slung himself around the gravitational pulls of suns, and hitched onto comets. He had circumvented stellar debris fields and bathed in solar radiation as he propelled himself farther into the black. Even though no sound carried through the vacuum of space, he hummed to himself as he careened through the abyss, occasionally skirting around a long-forgotten probe from a civilization that had either outpaced its original technology or had been extinguished from the universe entirely. His slender, draconian body--unadorned save for his smooth, red and black skin--had slipped through dust clouds as he passed from heliopause to interstellar space again and again. Vast emptiness, save for an intermittent iced-over rogue planet or wandering comet, loomed before him repeatedly.

Entropy had begun to settle. He'd done everything he could to conserve his energy until he found another fuel source, but eons upon eons of travel had taken their toll: Thin films of frost condensed and coated his naked form as his systems cooled, his heart rate slowed, and he could feel his mind growing sluggish. To save what little fuel he had left, he curled around himself, tucking his tail and antennae inward as he huddled around the last source of warmth within his body, and he drifted on his momentum, letting inertia carry him onward through the depths of space.

The inky blackness--silent and still except for the ghosts of stellar winds--enticed him to close his eyes and pass his travels in deep hibernation.

Stars passed him by, so many of them impossibly beyond his reach now.

He coasted through clouds of gas and dust, a vivid red and black speck among the colossal blooms of gold, green, and blue that filled the ether.

Beyond the realm of the waking, he gracefully arced by the remnants of supernovae long forgotten in the lonely corners of the distant galaxies he crossed into.

He dreamed as comets crossed his path and left fragments of ice and rock in their wakes.

He slumbered ever more deeply, paying no mind to the spinning protoplanetary disk that threw him from a newly developing solar system and deeper into the interstellar medium.

---

Under a layer of ice, his eyes opened. His pupils contracted as he gazed upon a fiery sun that threw its light on the six worlds that circled it. And there, so faint he could barely make it out, on the darkened far side of the second planet, he saw interconnected webs of bright light.

His pace quickened and his heart leapt at what the lights implied: Civilization. Here, at last, after so long in the cold reaches of deep space, was a habitable, industrialized world that just might be home to a potential food source...

He paused for a moment, considering how much energy he could spare to make his way to the planet. His fuel had dwindled so much that he would have to be strategic with how he used it. A hunger pang seared through him as he deliberated, then decided that whatever energy he used for this last leg of his journey would be worth it. The creature raised his head from his chest and stretched his arms, breaking free of the icy cocoon that had formed around him. He flexed his legs and tail to remove the rest of the ice, unfurled his antennae to gather environmental information, and angled his trajectory to settle into orbit around the second planet.

As he revolved high above the blue and green world that was scarred by patches of white and gold on its bright side and laced by glittering webs of light on its dark side, the creature looked for dense population centers--he considered targeting one for observation and to see if there would be a compatible fuel source, but he was so weak and hungry that if he were caught by the locals in large numbers with the security measures a civilization like theirs implied, he wouldn't be able to escape. No, he needed easy and isolated prey, somewhere secluded.

He settled into a synchronous orbit, turning with the planet as he stayed above a darkened region on the coast of one of the continents. The lights there were dim and scattered in a haphazard grid, suggesting somewhere rural and far less populated. He looked closer to see a miniscule gathering of lights that lay far beyond the dim grid, which he gauged to be a primitive gathering around a set of bonfires of some kind. He licked his lips, still frosted and cold, in anticipation. The location was perfect: Perhaps there would be a viable fuel source for him, and there might be just enough to sate the harshest hunger pangs that still seared through his stomach. And risk of his discovery or capture would be minimal--he was sure that at worst, the locals in this region wouldn't have the resources to catch him.

The red and black draconian twisted in the sky above his target, and dove downward, letting the planet's gravity aid in his descent. As he drew closer and closer, his skin insulated and protected him from the friction of the atmosphere--the only thing the mounting heat did was melt the last vestiges of ice that still clung to him. In mere moments, he heard something for the first time in millenia: The sound of wind rushing past him. He closed his eyes, reveling in the sense that had been so absolutely deprived in space. As much as his hunger hurt, he felt some small sense of relief at the presence of noise and a pressurized atmosphere, both of which were so absent in space.

The creature drifted downward, unnoticed by all, from the heights of the exosphere, and adjusted his bearing to better align with his chosen landing site. Without a sound and under the cover of night, he descended until he touched down among the foliage of the coastal cliff. Hidden from view, he looked towards the flickering light of the bonfires before him, and the sensors in his antennae kicked into overdrive as he took in more information about his surroundings; tall grasses swayed in the wind, there were tables laden with food and beverages, lanterns shined dimly in the distance, and music played. His eyes widened as he processed the sight in front of him, his antennae rose to a higher alerted position, and his stomach silently churned with hunger; his landing site couldn't have been more perfect.

There was an abundance of fuel he could consume.

Around the bonfires on the cliff, the creature observed a flock of 65 anthropomorphic males who wore nothing except the fur that covered them--they were all just as nude as he was, although he doubted any of them could survive the extreme environments he had traversed. And yet they all so casually displayed the fuel sources he was craving. He gulped back a mouthful of drool--seeing them all so wonderfully naked and vulnerable, and knowing that the sustenance he needed would be so easy to snatch, was almost too much for him to handle. He would've darted into the throng already, but he reminded himself to still be cautious, as his energy reserves were now almost extinguished.

He instead refocused on first learning more about his targets. Many of them displayed various morphologies, which, to him, suggested that different species cohabitated this world--indeed, there were canines, felines, procines, cervines, bovines, ursines, and lutrines, among so many others. The creature noted that some of the men resembled species he'd observed on other planets, while others were entirely alien to him.

As he watched, he tried to listen to conversations between them--while he couldn't understand their tongue, he could interpret their speech patterns and body language and gathered that most of them were inebriated and lacked sober mental faculties. If he was understanding the situation correctly, this was a party of some kind. He peered through the bushes and tall reeds in front of him to observe the revelers singing together, hugging each other, and talking together, while others caressed and fondled each other--the creature watched further as others were kissing and engaging in sexual activities as they rolled in the grass; some were breeding each other vigorously, while some simply sucked each other off. He grinned to himself, knowing what was to come and secretly delighting in the fact that none of his soon-to-be victims would know what would hit them. He just needed one of them to get started.

Discreetly, he shuffled through the foliage, trying to find the opportune target and angle of attack. It only took him a few moments to find a new perch and single out a muscled Dobermann who stood alone with a drink in his hand and watched the bonfire.

The draconian flexed his legs--it had been such a long time since he'd used them to gather food, but he could feel the muscles in his thick thighs and calves tense, ready to move. He eyed his target, crouched low, and took a breath.

In a fraction of a second, the slightest hint of a faded flash of red and black--practically imperceptible to the naked eye in the dark--darted past a small cluster of partygoers, skirted around the bonfire, and zipped by the Dobermann. The Dobermann in question stumbled for a moment before he looked around, shrugged without a care in the world, and took a drink, not even noticing what he was missing between his legs.

In that fraction of a second, the draconian had raced out of the foliage and homed in on his target. As he approached, he opened his mouth wide and let his spring-loaded tongue fly. His tongue was a smooth, slimy appendage that was as long as his body--normally, he kept it coiled in the back of his mouth. But when he used it to gather food, countless muscles stored and released an incredible amount of tension, like a compressed metal coil, to make it flash through the air to connect with its target: the Dobermann's plump testicles.

The tongue slapped sharply on the canine's balls to make the initial break, the sucker on the end of the appendage grasped onto the severed organs still in the scrotum, the tongue wrapped tightly around the balls to secure them, and the tongue's slime coating released a chemical that sealed the open wounds on both the testicles and their original host, leaving the victim none the wiser. All the Dobermann experienced was a fast, painless slap that made him stumble so little he might have thought he just tripped over his own feet, and a soft, pleasantly tingling sensation below his waist--it all happened faster than the normal eye could perceive, and in less than a second, the draconian had returned to his hiding place with his prize safely wrapped in his tongue, while their original owner, now ball-less, drunkenly continued to stare at the bonfire.

Safely nestled among the bushes and trees that concealed him, the draconian opened his mouth and uncoiled his tongue, letting the wet balls plop into his waiting hands. The full sack--neatly sealed shut due to the chemicals his tongue excreted--was covered in short, black fur, which was now soaked in his drool. He rubbed his fingers over the fur and flesh pulled tautly over the still-warm testicles inside, feeling just how large and rotund they were. The organs rolled in his palm as he caressed them, and they squished lightly as he pressed down on them. His antennae helped him see just how many nerves were tightly bundled in each ball, and he realized that they would be so sensitive--if only their previous owner could feel what he was doing to them now.

He looked up at his victim, still blissfully unaware of what had happened to him. The draconian felt not a single shred of regret that the Dobermann would never sire any offspring, would never produce a potent load, and would never feel like a virile male again; as he raised his thumb and extended a sharp claw over the full sack that rested in his palm, he mused to himself that he was putting the male's reproductive organs to far better use than their previous owner could ever imagine. Sustaining a space-faring creature such as himself was such a higher calling for the juicy orbs he held.

With a quick swipe of his claw, the draconian sliced through the outer flesh and thin layer of subcutaneous fat of the scrotum, revealing the side of one of the testicles that was already bulging out through the cut he had made. Drooling freely now, he extended his prehensile tongue to push the testicle back inside the tight confines of the disembodied scrotum and wrapped his powerful muscle around the organ to pull it out. His taste buds picked up the salty, sweet, musky, savory, and rich flavor of the testicle as he pulled it out with his tongue, leaving the other nut still inside the sack.

He slowly sucked the canine nut into his maw, making sure to slurp up the still-attached cord like a noodle--it slapped lightly against his chin before disappearing between his pursed lips. He rolled his prize around his mouth, taking his time to relish the complex flavors that soaked into his palate. His tongue slid sensually across the subtly wrinkled texture of the organ, feeling every sperm-producing groove and ridge, and he took abject satisfaction in the lingering warmth of body heat that wasn't his own, but that he would soon add to himself. He twisted his tongue around the cord attached to the testicle, squeezing it with his muscle to coax a few drops of thick liquid out of the open end. He gently pressed the testicle between his teeth, reveling in the exquisitely plump fullness that threatened to burst in his jaws--he could only imagine how much delicious bodily fluid would simply pop out if he bit down harder.

His memory stirred as he subconsciously compared this experience to the flavors and textures of other male reproductive organs he had consumed on his journey; he had encountered a species who had only one testicle apiece, and it was embedded in their pelvises--he'd had to dig into their genital slits with his tongue to pull out an organ the size of a cantaloupe, and while they still didn't notice due to how fast he completed the procedure, he resented having to do so much work. But their balls had been so refreshing, they tasted like sunshine--and their mass had kept him fed for such a long time.

Another species he'd fed on had entire clutches of pearl-sized testicles; he recalled one individual who had 100 of the organs alone--each of them connected to a central cord like a bunch of grapes and covered in a protective mucus--and he had gobbled them down without a second thought, save for a moment's pause to reflect on how tart they tasted and how easily and satisfyingly they slid down his gullet.

There were more, so many more species he'd encountered and preyed upon to satiate his ravenous appetite--but they all flew out of his mind as he sucked down the testicle currently in his mouth. The peristaltic motion of his throat pulled it further downward and and formed a lump in his esophagus; he shivered in delight as he felt it slide lower and lower on its way to his stomach; his system was so empty that he felt it squeeze through the tight sphincters and plop into his belly.

He groaned softly as he held his stomach, feeling so much pleasure at having something--anything--in the tank, and he licked his lips, his tongue searching out the last dregs of the flavor. His gaze settled on the remaining ball and scrotum in his hand, and he hastily devoured them both whole, knocking them back into his throat and swallowing as he sited his next target. He needed more. He wanted more. And he was in the perfect place to refuel himself to his heart's content.

The draconian's eyes and antennae alighted on a bull who was gorging himself on food next to one of the tables. He crouched low, settling into a starting position and flexing his powerful legs, and bolted.

The barest hint of a flash of red zipped through the party. It raced by the bull, whose knees buckled slightly as the creature, in less than a fraction of a second, shot out his long tongue, slapped off the male's low-hanging balls, yanked them away, and pulled them into his mouth to hastily gulp them down. He returned to his hiding place, feeling the warmth in his stomach grow as four testicles rolled against each other--the fuel he had so desperately needed was starting to kick in.

Now that he had the luxury of more energy to burn, the draconian surveyed the party and plotted out a path that would maximize his catch--the environmental data he gathered through his complex eyes and antennae gave him a perfect mental map of the gathering in front of him, and soon he knew the exact location of every male and how to maneuver around them to both avoid detection and snatch up every last testicle.

All he had to do now was run and let his tongue and throat do the work.

Once more, he crouched low. He extended his legs, stretching the muscles in his thighs and calves, before tucking them tight like springs.

To him, he exploded out of the bushes and left a wide wake through the tall grass as he pounded the ground and slapped his tongue hard against the balls of his first target (a deer who was talking animatedly with a wolf). But to the normal eye, there was nothing more than a light breeze that rustled the foliage; in the dim light, it was nearly impossible to see the streak of red and black that circled and bisected the party as the draconian connected with his targets.

While he could hear every distinct slap, slap, slap of his tongue against the scrotums and testicles he separated from their owners, the normal ear could only hear the music playing and the voices of the assembled males in conversation. Some of his victims stumbled or felt their knees buckle only a little, but they paid no mind, being too drunk to care about whatever little thing their bodies seemed to be doing automatically. Others looked around or down at themselves and shrugged, unsure of what was going on but more interested in their food or drinks, and in the dim light cast by the bonfire, nobody seemed to see that their balls had gone missing.

Wolf, bear, tiger, cheetah, rabbit, rat, boar, lion, bison, fox, cougar, Labrador, hyena, ferret, Dalmatian, kangaroo, stoat, German Shepherd, donkey, and so, so many others, all of different sizes and shapes, but with equally savory and filling testicles that were all up for grabs. Whether his victims were sitting, standing, drinking, eating, singing, talking, dancing, urinating in the bushes, masturbating, sucking each other off, or penetrating each other, the draconian took advantage of them all. Again and again in rapid succession, the draconian's tongue slapped off and wrapped around each and every set to pull them into his drooling maw, where they disappeared down his wet and waiting throat with a subtle gurgle. His body mindlessly consumed each set of organs he took, as he was caught up purely in a primal desire to swallow his stolen prizes, store them in his belly, and move on to his text target.

He was so caught up in his feeding frenzy that he almost didn't notice that some of the testicles he snatched came from copulating couples--in fact, he moved so fast and with such skillful agility that his tongue struck between the legs of a leopard who was mid-thrust and just about to hilt himself into a husky; the two of them had been writhing together in the tall grass, with the leopard hoisting the canine's legs over his shoulders.

From behind the leopard, the draconian's tongue smacked off the feline's balls and wrapped around them, matching their speed and momentum from the thrusting hips, before pulling them into his mouth. As he sucked them into his throat, he reflected for a moment on how good his timing was to have uprooted and snatched the leopard's balls before they were emptied into the husky. He could feel just how much they were still churning--for a brief moment, the nerves and muscle tissues in the testicles were still responding to signals from a body that had been cut off, and they twitched in their sack before finally settling.

And not even half a second later, the draconian switched position to strike from above--his tongue shot downward to slap off the husky's bouncing balls. He pulled them into his mouth, where the furred and full scrotum soon rested on his palate before it, too, was gulped down.

From the husky and the leopard--who continued rutting without a care in the world, neither of them noticing at all that their prized reproductive organs were no longer attached--the draconian zipped over the cluster of reeds where a Great Dane sat. His wide tongue hung out of his open muzzle while he voyeuristically watched the husky and leopard, furiously pumped his swollen, knotted cock that glistened a deep red in the firelight, and fingered himself with his thick fingers. His large balls bounced up and down with the movement of his hand that stroked his engorged manhood, but the draconian immediately shot his tongue at the top of the Great Dane's scrotum, slapping off the balls and sealing the open wounds shut while he drew the now-severed balls and sack into his waiting jaws.

If anything, the light, almost imperceptible slap that the Great Dane felt as he lost his balls made him bear down harder on the fingers stretching his hole-with abandon, he pushed another digit in and shoved them all deeper, beyond his knuckles. He stroked harder and whined to himself as he squeezed below his knot and blew clear seminal fluid all over his lap, stomach, chest, and hit the underside of his chin. All the while, the Great Dane kept his eyes locked on the leopard and husky, paying no attention at all to his now significantly lighter groin.

The draconian kept going--he flitted from person to person, swiftly slapping and snatching set after set after set of potent testicles wrapped snuggly in their scrotums, immediately gulping them down one after another (in some instances swallowing up to four sets of balls stacked on top of each other to form a long bulge in his throat that easily slid down his esophagus), and moving on to the next target again and again. In mere moments, he had whisked through the entire party, cleaning every groin of their balls, and he returned to his hiding place. Once more concealed behind the thick bushes and reeds on the cliffside, he examined himself.

His stomach, which had once been taut, flat, and empty like a drum, was now visibly distended; it bulged out so far and so heavily that it looked as if he were carrying his young, but as he rubbed a firm hand over his belly, he could feel all of the testicles he had consumed jostle and slosh against each other within him. He heaved a sigh of relief as he felt them start to digest and convert to energy for him; already it was flowing to his other systems, making him feel so much more alert and active, though he knew he would need significantly more to be capable of a long journey like the one he had just completed. His mouth watered with hunger, and with his antennae raised and his eyes wide open, he examined the party one more time to ensure he had grabbed every available fuel source in the area.

He felt a rush of excitement when he saw that there was one remaining intact male that he had missed in his initial survey: There was a horse sitting on the far side of one of the bonfires who was absently playing with his long, stiff erection, and a much larger-than-average set of balls hung low between his thighs.

The draconian licked his lips, wiping away the drool that was starting to seep out between them, and he crouched low, flexing his legs once more.

The horse didn't even notice the shadow of a red flash that zipped in and out between his legs, and his legs unconsciously kicked at the light slap on his groin; in less time than the blink of an eye, the draconian had propelled himself to his target, let his tongue fly to smack the large nuts off of the equine, wrapped them up in his tightly coiled muscle and drew them back into his mouth, and retreated to his hiding place. Like the first Dobermann's balls, the draconian saved the testicles and let them drop from his mouth and into his palms--the horse nuts were so large, so full of potent equine sperm, that he needed both hands to hold them.

He fondled the balls softly, rubbing them through leathery skin of the horse's scrotum, before he raised a clawed finger and cut the flesh right down the middle of the sack, making a long incision. When he was done cutting, he squeezed with his fingers--first the left testicle popped through the slit he had made, then the right. Both balls were now fully naked, exposed to the elements and lightly steaming in the open air; he could feel just how warm they were in his palms, making him all the more excited to add their heat and energy to himself.

In the meantime, the draconian used his tongue to pluck the now-empty scrotum out of his hands and pulled it into his mouth. As he softly squeezed and rolled the naked organs in his grip, he forced his tongue inside the limp scrotum in his mouth, savoring the flavor of the salty and musky flesh and the smooth, fatty texture of the tissues inside the sack. He could imagine just how hot and comfortable such an environment would be for the reproductive organs. He suckled on the scrotum for another moment before easily swallowing it--it didn't form so much as a lump in his throat as it went down.

The draconian then extended his tongue again, pulling the balls in his hands into his mouth one at a time; when he had both of them in his maw, he sucked on them and rolled them between his teeth, then wedged them between the outsides of his jaws and the insides of his cheeks, making his cheeks balloon outward with the plump outlines of the full and juicy organs. He sucked hard again, swallowing the drool that had accumulated in his mouth, and he could taste the concentrated musky flavor on his tongue.

After another minute of simply letting the balls rest in his mouth, he manipulated his tongue to pull one of them back to his throat; he swallowed, then positioned the other ball at the back of his mouth and swallowed it on top of the first testicle. Together, they formed a large bulge in his esophagus, but they went down smoothly and easily. He closed his eyes in delight as he felt them descend heavily into his swollen stomach, sealing their fate as nothing more than fuel for his body, never again to be used for making offspring or marking someone with virile seed. The horse, just like everyone else around the bonfires, would fire only blank shots, and while the cause would be obvious in the daylight, none of the partygoers would ever know who--or what--had taken their testicles and fed upon them.

The draconian opened his eyes again. Satisfied that he had relieved the entire assembly of their balls, he slipped deeper into the foliage before launching himself upward to travel to a larger population center. He felt he had the stamina to hunt for greater quantities of food, and he would need much, much more fuel to get to the next solar system.