FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Ah, the ladies' locker room... The source of many a man's fantasies for time immemorial. Buxom, nude women soaping themselves up, heaving bosoms and bouncing behinds as far as the eye could see. Groups of giggling gals fawning and cooing over each other, teasing and groping and lathering each other up in the shared showers, some of them even breaking off in groups to go and have a little more *personal* fun. What could be better than that?

Alas, the reality of the ladies' locker room wasn't quite as fun. Sure, there were still plenty of naked women, but most were hopping under the shower for quick, cold rinses, drying off and packing up or nursing some bruises here or there or doing whatever else it is that normal 'Mons tended to do after intense physical exertion. There were no soapy sex parties, no gravity defying funbags flapping about in the ethereal breeze of one's imagination, no frantic muff-munching behind the last row of lockers. Just some tired, sore gals working the kinks out of their muscles, rinsing the sweat from their fur, and chatting only when circumstances happened to carry them to the same row of lockers.

The other unfortunate part of the real ladies' locker room, or at least this one in particular, was that it was populated by women who had a combined testicle kill-count easily in the triple digits.

It was later in the evening, well after the day's scheduled matches, so the A-Rank facilities were all but empty. There were only a few stragglers remaining, a couple gals who worked support staff quickly cleaning up before heading home, and a few of the more dedicated fighters who enjoyed staying late to make sure they could watch all the fights they could, and talk strategy and maybe a bit of gossip once the place had cleared out. There were four such fighters present in the locker room at this hour, each of them boasting solid A-Rank records and a pop-count that would make a bashful of ladies blush and the most studly of men squeal.

The first was the only one still showering- a Mienshao, taking her sweet time to make sure every last inch of her slender body was lathered up with her chosen brand of pricey conditioner to ensure it was as silky and smooth as it could be. Misha's body wasn't exactly the most head-turning- short, slender, lithely muscled, small handfuls of tiddy that didn't quite have enough heft to be bouncy, and an ass that one would only notice after it had just worked in tandem with her thighs to rocket a foot between one's legs. Even with such uninspiring assets, her pristinely kept fur, piercing amber eyes, and perpetually smug expression all served to give the gal an enchanting, dangerous aura that made males go crazy. It helped in combat, too, not that she necessarily needed to rely on seduction for an advantage. The fighting type was nearly undefeated in almost a year's run at the League, every single one of her victories ending in a ruined male across from her. Her small frame was deceptive- she seemed far too slender to do any significant damage, especially to the heavy-weight males she had been dueling as of late. But as the unfortunate Tauros she had fought earlier in the day had learned- all it took for her was one good kick.

As the feline fighting type was rinsing the last of her fur off, leaving her flowing pale purple locks shining, she called over to the 2nd of the 4 for help grabbing a towel.

Zara, the zangoose, had been sitting on the nearest bench to the showers, snacking on some homemade poffins while she waited for her laundry to finish. The normal-type stood in the sharpest contrast to the fighter in the showers- while Misha was lithe and graceful, Zara was built like a tank. Standing a good foot taller than most of her species did, sporting a hefty chest that would give a Miltank a run for her money, and soft tummy that didn't look much at home on any league-fighter, Zara was truly an interesting specimen- the only real word one could use to describe her was "thicc" (maybe with a third C). As she rose to grab a towel to toss over to Misha, her body jiggled pleasantly, the plush gal's booty wobbling with each and every step. It was part of what made her a fan favorite- there was a whole lot to ogle on her, even as she began to pummel some poor dude's plums into pudding. Her record wasn't quite as spotless as Misha's- she had taken her fair share of losses. But she was still an A-ranked fighter for a reason, and that reason wasn't just that she had the honor of producing the most viral video clip the League had ever posted, when she quite literally twerked an unlucky Luxray's nuts to goo. Her most recent match wasn't anything so special, though no doubt a phat-bottomed Zangoose flattening some Lycanroc sack will still prove popular. Despite her unconventional fighting styles, a fair amount of them involving her prodigious posterior, Zara was a consistent fighter, and well deserving of her place in the big leagues. After handing off the towel and returning to plop her fat butt back on the bench, Zara was approached by the third of the stragglers.

"Didja bring enough to share? I'm sssstarving!" Giggled the newcomer, a tall and lanky Salazzle named Lizzie. She was the only one left in the locker room who wasn't naked, though a simple towel wrapped around her that barely went past mid-thigh could hardly be counted as clothing. She sat down beside the zangoose, who begrudgingly offered her a poffin to munch on. Though close in height, the salazzle was just a hair shorter than the study zangoose, and though she was far more slender she wasn't too lacking in fun bits. Her chest bulged her towel out far, half the reason for its short length down below that showed off miles of soft grey and purple thigh. She snacked happily on the poffin, her razor-sharp teeth making quick work of the treat. Like Misha's legs, and Zara's titanic tushy, Lizzie's fangs were her weapon of choice when it came to combat in the Underground League. She was a slippery fighter, of course, deftly wriggling about the arena and distracting and whittling down her opponent with bursts of flame before she managed to get her face between their legs. Once that happened? Well, not much you can do once those fangs find their target. Even the tough, stone-like skin of a Rhydon isn't enough to protect from those teeth, as her opponent discovered earlier in the day. At least he got to enjoy having a gal between his legs one more time, even if it cost his stones.

Before long, Misha joined the other two gals, toweling off her shimmering fur while the others enjoyed their late evening snack. "Whew, quite a day, wasn't it? I didn't have time to check the standings, how'd you two do?" She asked, her ears flickering down while she started to dry off her face.

"How do you think?" Lizzie let out a hiss of a laugh, popping a fresh poffin into her maw and *snicking* her fangs shut around it, just to further illustrate the absurdity of that question. Of course she won! "That Rhydon wassss all musssscles, no brain. Kept trying to grapple me, ssstone edge, takedown, you name it he tried it. Wore himssself out, basssically *offered* his ballssss to me." She snickered. "Would've taken more but the refssss have been telling me to stop."

Zara chuckled along with her, finishing the last of her snacks and taking a swig from her water bottle. "Pff, that doesn't stop Wendy. They better start adding a cock-counter to her stats. Speaking of which, where is that lil' fucker?" Perfectly timed with her grumbling came the sound of the locker room door swinging open, and the tip-tapping of claws on the tile. From the other side of the locker row emerged a Weavile, naked as the rest of them, her brilliant pink plume of hair all disheveled along with the rest of her fur. Her lavender eyes gleamed with a savage light that never seemed to dim, a snaggle-toothed grin on her face. "Sup, bitches. Just totally fuckin' ruined some Flareon ho. Talkin' major sack n' schlong snippage. I'd tell ya all about it but I gotta go shower and flick my fuckin' bean. Peace." She flashed the group a macabre looking peace sign with her deadly claws as she passed.

The rest of the group rolled their eyes in unison, offering that as a greeting instead of any sort of hello. Wendy wouldn't have wanted a hello anyway. There was a reason she was called the Gremlin of Galar. She was, as was put simply by Zara, a "lil fucker". Obnoxious, loud, and as sadistic as they came, Wendy had more than earned her reputation as one of the dirtiest fighters in the A-ranks. Whatever meager ruleset League fighters were expected to follow, she outright ignored, and of course she kept getting away with it because hey- fighters with a 100% castration rate bring in the views.

Misha clicked her tongue and shook her head once she heard the shower start, followed shortly by a not-so-subtle series of high-pitched moans. "Ugh..." Zara seemed to share her sentiment toward the dark-type, but Lizzie just giggled. "Oh c'mon, sssshe's kind of cute. In a... evil little pssssychopath kind of way. Anyway, we were talking about our matches, yes? How did yours go, Misha?"

The feline grinned, an uncharacteristic expression for the usually stoic gal. "It went *wonderfully*. One of my best double-bursts yet. But- I think I'll let you two just watch the VOD tomorrow." She winked. The other two groaned in reply. "Aw, c'mon, it'sss been too long ssssince we gosssiped." "Yeah, you never stick around for story-time."

Misha sighed, holding a paw to her face, the fur cascading off of it to cover her breasts as well. "Oh fine, quit whining. I was just hoping to leave before Wendy came back, but... fine." Her acquiescence brought cheers out of the other girls, and they all gathered up around the bench. "So..." Misha started, glancing around at the other two. "Who's going first?"