FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Boom!

The explosion blasted shards of glass and other bits of rubble and debris out into the street as it echoed across the city. Tinkertail had arrived just in time to glimpse its aftermath. Noxious purple vapor billowed forth from a jagged hole in the ground floor wall of a building. The crested gecko set his jaw with determination and skittered across the sheer, glittering exteriors of the surrounding skyscrapers. He leapt nimbly from building to building, landing on vertical surfaces with ease with the help of his sticky hands and feet. The reptile's mechanical tail- a long, segmented device resembling steel discs on a metal spine that tapered from a wide, blunt base near his rump to a pointed tip- whipped and curled to provide even better balance than his long-lost natural one ever could.

He paused with three talons stuck to a twelfth story window of an office building, and slipped the other claw beneath his cowl to activate the earpiece lodged in the ridged hole of his reptilian ear. Startled anthros in business attire, who were previously holding a meeting on the other side of the glass, gawked at him while he ignored them and listened to police radio chatter. Reports of the attack were still coming in. Furs were panicking in the streets. Some fled in terror, others wrestled against the current of bodies to add to the crowd who were brave enough to investigate the detonation. Their phones were out and filming, of course. The lizard exhaled an irked huff through his slitted nostrils. Civilians always complicated matters and had an annoying lack of self-preservation at times.

From what he heard on the radio, the superhero was almost certain he already knew who the culprit was. There were few criminals interested in heists of obscure chemical compounds from high-tech labs, and even fewer still competent enough to obtain them. The strange mist that wafted from the destroyed wall was really the only clue he needed.

Pheromax.

The nefarious skunk was formerly a brilliant and handsome chemical engineer by the name of Yuta. Although they specialized in different fields, Tinkertail had actually worked alongside him on several projects while in the guise of his own alter-ego, a mechanical engineer by the name of Zeki. They had even shared a torrid (albeit short-lived) office romance before the mephit's apotheosis into a supervillain.

He remembered the first thing that Yuta had ever said to him upon shaking paws. The skunk eyed him up and down and licked his lips seductively. "You're going to belong to me one day."

...it had been an embarrassing crush.

Pheromax's personal experiments had always been of questionable ethics at the best of times, and the gecko never fully trusted his former colleague's judgment. Yuta had actually provided pivotal breakthroughs for the hydraulics that were used in the reptile's prosthetic tail, so he couldn't be all bad, Zeki reasoned, even if that inner beauty was buried beneath layers of narcissism and megalomania. The robotic tail was something Tinkertail was passionate about developing after having lost his own so young. He unfortunately belonged to one of the few species of gecko that never regrew their tails once lost, and for most of his early adult life he had felt naked without it.

He still held out hope that his nemesis could be reined in and reformed, even if that glimmer grew fainter with each vile scheme the monochrome anthro engaged in. Pheromax rarely seriously injured anyone who wasn't directly and persistently standing between him and what he wanted. That wasn't a reason to discount how dangerous he could be, however. His methods were often far more insidious. He had developed a way to turn his natural scent into a potent selection of fumes, with a breathing apparatus he wore on his suit that resembled a wartime gas mask from a bygone era. With the help of augmenting chemicals, he could exhale to create clouds of smoke that were even more overwhelmingly sickening than his natural spray, along with flammable plumes, sleeping vapors, and- his magnum opus- mind control gas.

His goons were drones; formally free furs who were now trapped inside their own bodies while being puppeteered through the hypnotic embrace of their mephit master. Not wanting to end up like the skunk's other thralls, Tinkertail popped a rebreathing gadget out of a slot on his tail and closed his maw around its mouthpiece. He also pulled his hood forward to better shield his vision from any hypnotic patterns that the criminal might emit along with the vapors. Afterward he resumed scurrying down the building, making his way swiftly toward the scene of the attack.

Zeki was an attractive lizard. And he was well aware that his exploits had made him famous and earned him a plethora of admirers, both fans of his heroics and those lusting after him while he was in his uniform. He couldn't avoid that truth once he came across erotic fan-fiction of himself online, although none of them were able to describe him perfectly. Something that was a good thing considering the collateral damage that often occurred during his heroic feats. His scales were primarily yellow mottled with a verdant shade of green. His silver spandex suit clung tightly to his sinewy form and highlighted every contour of his body, from the ridged fin-like crest that ran down his spine to the bulge of his genitals. He completed his outfit with a pale blue hooded cape and matching sets of gloves and boots that hugged each talon individually. The material was specially designed to allow his natural ability to cling to surfaces to permeate it.

Zeki took on the name Tinkertail and prowled the streets as a vigilante crimestopper after Pheromax's own sinister turn, knowing that law enforcement would be no match for Yuta's vast intellect. He used a variety of his own tools and inventions to enhance his ability to thwart the mephit's schemes.

The lizard changed to a more covert approach as he neared the yawing hole in the building's facade. He slunk down from above and scoped out his surroundings. Shrouded in the magenta haze were several silhouettes clad in black rubber with gas masks and purples visors constantly cycling esoteric patterns. Sure enough, they were Yuta's unwilling henchmen. From experience Tinkertail knew that Pheromax was both sexually aggressive and had a sadistic streak. He had always managed to let his love of complete control to ooze into every conversation that the gecko had with him. It seemed that his open carnal energy extended to how he treated his mind slaves as well. Bright pink padlock symbols were emblazoned on the latex coated bumps of their crotches. Tinkertail had no doubt that he used these null drones to his own satisfaction while leaving them aching and wanting.

He had developed gasses to make anyone lustful and compliant, Yuta had often boasted while in the laboratory with Zeki. Submissives would be unable to resist him and let him do as he pleased. The reptile didn't doubt that it was always in the skunk's arsenal, be it for work or play. Tinkertail decided he would avoid the enslaved thugs when he could, and treat them gently as possible when he couldn't. Luckily he preferred stealth over action whenever he could.

Now he just had to find Pheromax.

Tinkertail slipped some goggles from his forehead down over his eyes. His golden irises were exaggerated in the lenses. He crept into the mist, hanging upside down from the ceiling to avoid the guards. His slit pupils widened to accommodate the gloom and dust. Even to his sharp senses, it was difficult to see more than several feet in front of him. He curled his metal tail up behind him in a particular position to send out an ultrasonic ping that acted as a radar. His goggles holographically outlined where items and anthros were. One pixelated outline stood out amongst the rest, and as he drew closer and the violet haze briefly parted his suspicions were confirmed.

There stood a lithe skunk wearing a tight black latex suit. The shiny, form-fitting garment was accented with a royal purple, including his prominent stripes and both gloves and boots. It enclosed his voluminous tail as well, retaining the shape of its sweeping curve. He sported a pink and purple visor that held a constantly shifting, hypnotic pattern. A ribbed hose connected beneath his tail to a hefty pressurized tank on his back and from the tank to an aerosolizer on his gas mask. At his belt were a series of canister grenades containing hallucinogenic gasses. His ostentatious flair for overt sexuality exuded from him like the fumes he created. Tinkertail couldn't ever gaze upon him without experiencing at least a bit of arousal. Not only was his uniform undeniably enticing, but out of his suit he was a sleek and fit mephit in his early thirties.

How many years had it been since they passionately undressed one another? Just a pawful? It felt like decades.

Pheromax held an open, metal attache case. Its cushioned interior was filled with vials and canisters of indeterminate compounds. The skunk's paw ran over the labels with adoration, before snapping it shut and looking directly at the gecko.

A heartbeat passed as they stared at each other. Then Tinkertail dropped to the floor, twisting to put his claws beneath himself. He lunged- diving to close the distance between them. The tip of his tail smashed into the floor beneath him and sprung him forward to his foe. At the same moment, the skunk exhaled a raspy plume of violet smoke to conceal himself again. His visor flashed a brilliant, scintillating hue behind the wall of pungent fog. It was the only give away to where he was, flowing like a wraith in the dark. A dozen more eye masks illuminated the haze, blending together into a host of will-o-the-wisps.

Zeki landed into a rolling crouch after missing his target. He lept straight upward and spun, extending his tail like a helicopter blade to keep the goons surrounding him at bay. He was a skilled martial artist, and could easily take out a gang of furs, but the skunk's crew were innocents that he had ensnared with his chemical control. The reptile couldn't guarantee that he could take them all without at least incidentally causing one or more of them serious harm, and that wasn't a boundary he was willing to cross. He lifted his tail for another radar wave, and found the outline that had a rubber encased skunk tail as he fluidly threw one latex drone into another and darted between another pair.

Pheromax was loading a weapon of some sort. Perhaps a dart gun, but it was difficult to tell for sure. He blasted another puff of smoke around himself in all directions, further obscuring his form. Tinkertail's sharp senses detected the rapid series of thwips of a volley of darts fired a split-second before the shot out of the haze aimed directly at the hero. He knocked the first two aside with a swipe of either wrist, then ducked and swung his robotic tail around his body to shield himself as the rest of the darts plinked harmlessly off of it. He rolled away as the heavy form of a latex-clad bull charged out of the noxious fumes toward him. Immediately afterward he tripped a rubbery crocodile by extending his tail straight out a few inches above the floor.

More darts were loosed at him. There was too much that demanded his attention. The lizard was quickly losing track of things. He dodged again, less gracefully than before, but in doing so opened himself up to an attack by a wild boar anthro, who noisily inhaled a shuddering lungful of mind control gas just before lowering his shiny shoulder and thundering forward at full speed. His rushing assault caught the hero in the gut and knocked the wind out of him. He sputtered and coughed, losing his mask among the rubble. Tinkertail smelled the cloying scent and felt his eyes begin to water as the purple fog worked its way into his nostrils and lungs. He wanted to hold his breath, but it was too late. One small gasp of the spray and already he felt dizziness wash over him. The smoke twinkled pleasantly, lulling him to sleep. He forced himself to one knee, but he was already swaying back and forth by the time Pheromax strode from the mist seconds later.

The last thing he saw before passing out was the skunk bending down to look at him right in the face. He exhaled a cloud of his chemically altered scent into Zeki's face, who promptly blacked out.

The world was fuzzy, but slowly came into focus again. It took the bested hero a few seconds to recall what had happened. His head pounded with the onset of a migraine. He felt stiff and sore, and realized that he was coming to on a cold, steel table. It was unclear how many hours he had lain there. The lizard had been stripped completely naked. His limp, uncut cock and heavy balls were exposed between his thighs. The rigid press of the tabletop against the softer scales of his rump let him know that his prosthetic had been confiscated. He tried to bolt upright, but ended up choking halfway through the motion. A simple, metal collar was locked around his throat. It was connected to the table by a short length of chain; not enough to let him fully sit upright, but certainly enough to allow him the room to struggle and writhe.

Tinkertail's eyes darted about to see what he had to work with to escape. He was in an alcove of a much larger chamber, whose interior was cluttered with a mixture of electronic equipment and heavy machinery. The workshop looked to be a strange mashup of a factory and a research laboratory. There weren't any windows, but the reptile spotted his outfit and gadgets piled up on a countertop. He unfortunately wasn't within reach of any of it.

Several blank monitors of varying sizes were mounted on the ceiling. They were angled down at the table he was strapped to. They flickered on in unison, each emitting several seconds of noisy static before changing to shots of his nude form from multiple angles and distances. The high resolution videos were in sharp focus. He could make out every fine detail of his scale markings and spade shaped head. The largest monitor, the one in the center, suddenly cut to a close up of Pheromax's face. The skunk's identity was concealed behind his equipment, as he was still dressed as though he were out terrorizing the city. His visor hummed with a purple and pink tie-dye swirl. When he spoke, it spiked and shuttered like an audio waveform visualizer.

"Tinkertail, Tinkertail, Tinkertail," he drug out the hero's name, voice reverberating strangely through his rebreather. "Or should I say Zeki. Not so tough without your gadgets and gizmos, are you? Don't worry. I'll be equipping you with some new- shall we say- toys, soon enough. But first: Why don't we let the city you failed to protect witness your downfall?"

The screens flickered to new inputs once again. Each of the monitors depicted a live news broadcast from a different media station. The smartly dressed anthros all stopped speaking mid-story and looked to one another confused. Their own video windows switched to the live feed of the naked crested gecko who pulled at his bindings on the table. Zeki felt his scales flush warmly with embarrassment at having his nudity broadcast and recorded for any and all to see. The loss of his secret identity stung too. It would be quite the headache to smooth over when he got free.

If he got free.

The text scrolls at the bottoms of the screens stopped showing stock prices and reciting the day's headlines and began displaying the same selection of taunting messages about the superhero's failure, his name, and his impending degradation and corruption. The skunk intended to sexually abuse him on live televison? The idea definitely fit Yuta's proclivities. Zeki was willing to bet he'd follow through on the threat.

He heard the stride of heavy rubber soles on metal approaching, and contorted to face the sound. Slowly exhaling a stream of purple smoke that spiraled to form a dreamlike aura around him, Pheromax came forth. The scent carried in the air was piquant and insistent. Zeki knew trying to hold his breath would get him nowhere. He instead breathed shallowly. As he inhaled the haze he immediately found that the slightest whiff of it scent blood rushing to his groin. He felt his penis plump and swell. Despite his best efforts, he was enticed by the aroma. He fought to suppress the building lust within him and set a stoic face. The villain stopped moving when he was a finger's width past the reptile's reach at the longest point.

He held up a paw. In his glossy, gloved palm was a simple steel device. The hero recognized the chastity cage immediately. Yuta had urged him to wear it when they had dated. Its intricate metal bars formed a tube just under two inches in length, with a larger ring to go behind a scrotum and hold it in place.

"The world will see just what a whimpering, submissive bitch you are-" their office affair hadn't gone that badly, had it?- "I am going to put this on you. Or rather, you are. And before the day is through, you will beg me to cum."

"Never!"

"Are you certain about that?" The skunk leaned in, bringing his cloud of pheromone infused mist closer. The smell of it became stronger. Overpowering. Zeki felt his will to resist begin to crack. There was a primal pull within him to submit and serve. Not only to enslave himself to his Master, but to service him in all ways he desired. It was an insurmountable challenge to not be mesmerized by the shifting patterns on the mephit's visor. Before he knew it he was holding up a paw and the chastity cage was being placed firmly in his palm.

What am I doing!?

The thought was quickly clouded by the ardent need to obey. His half-hard shaft throbbed and gushed a load of pre over his smooth, scaled sac. Without thinking he tugged his balls through the ring and adjusted it around his scrotum. It was a tight fit, and made his testicles bulge out. He forced the cage over his maleness next. He barely managed to stuff his girthy length into the narrow tube of bars. Tinkertail's member was already weighty, and the addition of the steel made his groin feel heavy and cumbersome, even if it was more compact. Some of the metal bracings on the chastity device had short, blunted spikes that pressed into his member while curving toward his tip. They weren't sharp enough to pierce his scales, but they were sure to cause severe discomfort, especially if he dared to attempt freeing himself by pulling out. Their bite would stifle his hardness as easily as the unyielding cage itself would contain it.

Through lapses in the intoxicating aroma effects, the gecko watched with apprehension and dread as he did as his Master commanded. Pheromax handed him a miniature, brass padlock next. It was heavy, but small, with gaps too tiny for bolt cutters to squeeze in and liberate him. Despite mustering all of his will to resist, Zeki secured the lock with an audible click. sealing his own defeat. He only distantly heard the echoing laughter of his former lover. The skunk stood next to the table, seeming to tower over him. The key to the lock was in one gloved paw. A pair of clippers was in his other. He offered both to his captive.

"Destroy it! Show your new owner what a good pet you'll be," he commanded.

The hero's talons trembled as he took both from his foe. He fought the impulse to fully submit, told himself it was still possible to defy the skunk...but there was a niggling desire at the back of his mind to please the cruel mephit. Another burst of pheromones puffed out from Pheromax's tank and swirled up around them like they were in the eye of a storm. Its odor, simultaneously fetid and ambrosial, lanced through Tinkertail's will. He placed the key between the blades and gripped the handles.

The ruined remnants of the key fell. Their clinking echoed louder than it should as they tumbled through the grated floor and were lost forever to the gloom.

The villain retrieved a gas mask with one of his trademark visors attached from a nearby countertop. Groggily the reptile allowed him to place it over his muzzle and tighten the straps. There was a canister attached at an angle to the underside of the rubber muzzle, steadily emitting a concoction of fumes he was forced to inhale. They drew him deeper into the mindless haze. Tinkertail felt disconnected from himself, like he was watching his debasement fully in third person while being completely unable to intercede. At the same time he could experience every sensation, much of them heightened- he was merely rendered powerless to react to them.

It took all of his effort to fidget and rumble a weak grunt of protest.

Pheromax wasn't finished.

"The chemicals you tried to prevent me from acquiring this morning were the final ingredients I needed for my latest compound. Since you've been such a troublesome lizard I figure that it is only fitting that you be my first test subject for it," he explained. He held up a beaker filled with a viscous, black goo. It slithered and burbled of its own volition, churning as if it were a living, alien entity. He poured it into his palm. It started to ooze and drip down between the fingers of his gloves, but once it was fully out of its container it retracted into itself to form a misshapen sphere. The tarry substance's rippling, glistening surface seemed everchanging. The skunk played with the blob of goop, tossing it back and forth from one paw to the other.

He held it close to Zeki's exposed body. The rubbery gunk stretched outward on its own with a series of spike-like strands when it was only a foot or so from the scales of his naked chest. The ebony slime touched his flesh and immediately slithered onto him with a mind of its own. The sludge flattened and stretched, spreading quickly and smoothly over his torso. It swallowed his abdomen first, then flowed down his arms and legs, and up around his throat. Tendrils of sticky rubber coated his chastity cage as well, before fusing with itself into a bump over his genitals. Within moments it had enveloped his body in inky blackness, forming a skintight, seamless latex suit. The material seemed thicker over the bulge of his crotch, where it more than effectively dulled sensation; as if the chastity device were not enough to keep him from receiving pleasure.

The mephit unhooked his newly-aquired slave's collar from the table. He looked toward one of the cameras that had been broadcasting the event to news outlets around the country.

"The great hero Tinkertail is now part of my harem," he announced confidently. "I invite you all to watch as I break him in." The skunk chuckled. The muffling of his mask made it take on an eerie edge. It was sensual. Aroused. But it carried with it a promise of cruelty. He leered at the superhero. "Beg me to use you. Show the world how much you pine to be savagely rutted and filled with my seed," he commanded forcefully. The bank of manufactured fog that had steadily built around them had become dense enough that hardly more was visible beyond each other, the monitors, and the table.

It was difficult to do more than stare at the shifting hues of the mesmerizing visor, inhale the intoxicating scent, and submit.

"Please, Master, claim me. Fill me with your cum and mark me as your property."

Tinkertail recognized his own voice, deadened by the gas mask and hoarse with a sudden, incessant longing to be taken roughly from behind. Distantly, his scientist brain wondered if that overpowering craving to be hilted and bred was the same urge female furs who entered a heat felt. His chemically-polluted mind left him unable to resist whimpering for sex like Yuta always desired of him when they were together. He stood, moving smooth but sluggishly. The crested gecko bent over the steel table. He braced himself with one talon on its surface, while the other slipped down his hip toward his own rump. The latex suit squeaked as the material rubbed along itself. He gripped one pert globe of his ass and spread himself in presentation.

The suit unexpectedly made a slurping sound as it morphed once more. The alteration was a minor one. The material flowed outward in a ring from his tailhole, creating a few inches gap through which his puckered entrance was visible. The goop solidified once more into a static shiny, form-fitting rubber.

The vigilante rattled the prison of his own mind, but his next breath caused him to shudder and be dragged deeper into the insatiable lust and agonizing urge to submit. His cock swelled and fought against its own bonds, earning him enough discomfort to whine. He needed to cum, but even more so needed to be filled with his superior's skunk spunk. Pheromax stepped up behind him and set his booted paws at shoulder's width apart.

"You and I are about to have so much fun. It will be just like old times," he hissed. "Make sure you moan and mewl for the cameras. I don't want any fur to miss a second of your debasement." The villain's erection was throbbing. Its rigid outline was readily apparent, forming a more than seven inch shaft pressing against his latex suit at an angle up toward his hip. Were it not for the potent scent of rubber and the mind-altering gas, Tinkertail was certain he would be able to smell the tantalizing tingle of their joint aroused scents in the air.

Yuta unfastened a hidden zipper at his crotch and tugged his maleness through. The thick rod was a blushing, rosey peach in color. He languidly stroked himself a few times and drummed his gloved fingers along his flesh, teasing his shaft. His hefty testicles bounced with his ministrations. A jet of clear, watery pre erupted from his slit and splattered the captive superhero's backside. The mephit produced a small bottle of lubricant from somewhere and slathered his cock until it was glistening and wet. He remained masturbating himself but moved one slick paw toward his prisoner's tight ring.

He prodded at the gecko's hole with a single finger, wasting no time in twisting his wrist and working the digit inside. Tinkertail tensed at the intrusion, and involuntarily clenched around the invading member. Not giving him anytime to adjust, Pheromax added a second finger, making the lizard gasp. He found the sweet spot within his slave and hooked his fingers, beckoning against it. Zeki spontaneously chirped against his will as the pain and pleasure intertwined. He felt himself leak pre, but there was no reaching his cock.

Pheromax removed his paw. It was clear that he only wanted his plaything to be stretched enough to barely accommodate his girth. He was far less interested in the living toy's comfort. In fact, erotic suffering was likely his goal. The mephit lined up his pulsing tip with his pet's lubricated tailhole. His massive tail curled up against his back as he leaned forward over the vigilante. With one powerful thrust, he pushed forward. He pierced his submissive's ring and heard the hypnotized slave whimper in lust. He buried himself most of the way and paused. Their bodies quaked. With a final buck, he ground the last couple of inches in. His testicles slapped noisily against the rubber.

He withdrew almost completely and slammed in again, just as fast and hard as before. The domineering mephit worked himself into a rhythm quickly. He never lacked intensity. His haunches pistoned forward and back like a jackhammer. With each forceful thrust he allowed his sizable member drag along his unwilling partner's prostate.

Tinkertail was guided to the precipice of orgasm, but couldn't will himself over the edge. He was horrified and humiliated- moaning as he was being used on live television. The skunk's heady scent was modified not only to make him fully compliant, but to increase his arousal as well. It unfortunately also seemed to deaden his ability to ejaculate, and despite feeling like he could bust a nut at any moment, the reptile had to contend with the ache of knowing there would be no release forthcoming.

Pheromax's chest heaved with exertion. The lustrous rubber of his suit clung tightly to him and reflected the shifting light of the monitors with every ragged breath he took. He gripped the chain attached to the collar and yanked it back, choking his slave as he approached his apex. His fucking became erratic, losing its swift but steady cadence. He huffed wispy, lavender motes across the nape of his victim's neck as he hilted the gecko and came. His penis pulsated in Zeki's abused ring, erupting a font of skunk essence that flooded his hole. His whole body quivered. He grabbed the reptile's hip to brace himself as he pumped his load into him. The hero felt the pressure of his claws against his flesh through the dual layers of latex.

The supervillian stayed buried in him for a moment, enjoying the intense afterglow. After a long, still pause, his softening member slipped from his former-lover's cleft. It dribbled the last vestiges of his climax to the floor in a shimmering, syrupy strand. He milked out the remnants and stuffed himself back into his uniform. Meanwhile, the synthetic rubber material forming the drone suit sealed the gap that it had formed to allow Tinkertail to be ravaged.

He tensed as he felt thick tendrils of the fluctuating gunk wriggle their way deep into his sore aperture on their own accord like probing tentacles. They twisted, writhed, and undulated within him before ultimately forming a fat plug, trapping the warmth of the skunk's semen within him. His backside was sore. His cock strained for release. Somewhere, distantly through the captivating patterns on his visor, he noted the looks of shock, concern, horror, and sympathy on the faces of the news crews who hadn't entirely cut their feeds.

"I told you once that you'd be mine. And I never relinquish what is mine."