FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Donovan's eyes grew weary from the truck's rumbling. The vibrations of the engines, the echo of stifled breaths of each laborer and convict stacked together like how they used to can sardines. Before his sentencing, he had only heard the expression and was more curious as to how a sardine must have tasted rather than how they were packed. He missed the freedom to have such thoughts, just like the freedom to sleep without standing.

Just a minute. That's all he needed to rest his eyes. His blinks lengthened as he thought about the predicament. How long had he been sentenced now? A month? A year? What little pauses he had gave him no clock to check or bed to rest in. What he did know was that shifts were ten hours usually, doing whatever menial task needed to be done that couldn't be handled by robots. Welding, garbage disposal, sewage work, construction, and other jobs that once belonged to the blue-collared folk. He had blindspots every time he blinked from the sparks on the welder, no thanks to the broken goggles they'd handed him.

Five minutes. He could rest his eyes for five minutes in the crowded back of the box he and everyone around him was stuffed inside. Looking around, he noted a few others had the same idea. Either not afraid of testing the filters covering their mouths, or not knowing the subsystems that were responsible for it were off. His jaw tried to yawn at the sight of it, but the clamp of his filter's facemask prevented his mouth from moving up, as did the combination tube and bit stopped him from closing completely. All the better to control his breathing in case he went rogue or out of his assigned area.

It did more than that, symbolically. He had gotten to see his reflection a few times, usually after rainy days with puddles galore, or after polishing something just right. Covering half of his face, the mask robbed Donovan of who he was. Sure, anyone that knew him could tell it was him with his black-furred head. But half his face stayed hidden, never to be removed unless it needed extensive repairs or replacing. Not even for feeding, they had a tube for that.

He hated the tube.

Deciding on ten minutes, Donovan closed his eyes and drifted. A rapid tapping rattled his ears. First, he ignored it, figuring exhaustion would be enough. The tapping grew louder, more panicked and anxious. Unbearable to his sleep, Donovan turned his head to the back of the truck where the tapping came from. Standing, or rather, smooshed up against the back door stood a rabbit in an exosuit. From how much the rabbit struggled to move, he had to be new to sentencing; exoskeletons itched like hell on the first day, and they never got better. Donovan just got used to it.

The truck stopped. Stiff bodies surged with the sudden momentum, too tight to fall over. Donovan grunted into his mask at another wasted opportunity.

At the sound of a latch being undone, the rabbit bolted. No one cheered for the rabbit to escape, they knew what would happen. Not three steps out of the van went before his suit locked up, forcing him to fall face forward onto the ground.

"Always one!" laughed a guard from the outside. "What a dumbass."

Donovan reflexively put his arms behind him to avoid any shocks from disgruntled guards looking for excuses. Some prisoners grunted at the sudden push. "Get them offloaded, now." Hydraulics rang in the ears of every prisoner as they stepped outside of the truck. Light glared down on Donovan's eyes as he exited. He looked down to avoid it, catching a glimpse of the rabbit that tried running away. He kept twitching, head wrangling back and forth while one guard watched, only to press a button for a few seconds and then press it again. Either the guard would get bored, the rabbit would turn blue, or someone would take the prisoner someplace to properly punish the escape attempt.

Deciding not to think about the fate of the desperate fool, Donovan looked forward to the large black rectangular building standing in front of him. He'd been there countless times already and without being able to speak the prisoners couldn't share their name for it. A lack of signs made it impossible to tell what it was actually called and the guards never spoke about it within earshot. All he knew was that they stopped here between job changes. Where prisoners' exoskeletons were repaired, health status monitored, and sometimes even cleaned. He called it the Car Wash in light of anything better.

Like a car wash, prisoners had to latch themselves against a tarp to ride deeper into the building, with a hook latched into their back for stability. Subsystems in his wrists would shock him if he tried to touch the chain or hook. The machinal whirring of gears echoed across his mind as, one by one, prisoners separated down different paths for different mechanic pairs to check on. With how many jobs they'd be swapped around for, Donovan didn't expect to see any of his fellow convicts any time soon.

The smell of grease and oil seeped past his filter at his stop. A workbench littered with tools sat across the wall while smoke floated against the ceiling like a cloud. A short beaver hummed to himself with his back turned, buds in his ears blocking out the world with music Donovan wished he could hear. Round glasses reflected lamplight as the beaver turned around and nearly dropped his sandwich. Meatballs. Donovan's stomach churned, mouth salivating. "Oh, shit. Bob!" the beaver shouted, putting his sandwich aside, "Bob, we got work!"

"I'm on fucking break!" A deep voice grunted from behind Donovan. "Give me a couple of minutes."

The beaver shrugged, "Hey, it's your pay, not mine."

At that the voice, Bob, grumbled incoherently and stepped past Donovan, revealing himself to be a big bull with a gut, chomping down on the only cigar between the two mechanics. "Bunch of fuckin slave drivers can't even let me have my break. What's the designation, Todd?"

Todd cycled through at his techpad. "Hmm...says here it's F46."

The bull scratched the scruff of his beard. "F46 huh?" he looked over at the suited rottweiler in disinterest. Smirking, Bob grabbed the pad from his partner's hands and looked it over. Donovan closed his eyes as he felt heat rise against his cheeks. It'd been too long since someone touched him, even as roughly as the bull.

"Hey!" Todd scrambled for his device only for the height difference and Bob's thick arms to impede him. "It's just a number, Bob. That's what they all are."

"Yeah, yeah, just a number." Bob nodded and tossed the pad aside for his partner to scramble for before it could shatter. He grabbed Donovan's covered maw and wrenched his head back and forth, inspecting him with the same attitude as one inspected a machine. "They're all numbers. Don't even list their infractions now."

"That's to fight bias," Todd explained.

Bob laughed, grasping the back of Donovan's head so possessively that the rottweiler bit down into his gag to keep silent. "Bias? Scum is scum, Todd. They deserve everything that comes to them. I can't help but be curious about what they did though. It's just in my nature."

"Well, can we get to the part where it's in your nature to work?" Todd asked with a catty tone.

The bull rolled his eyes and blew smoke over Donovan's face. The rottweiler's eyes stung from the burning heat and specs of ash. "Stretch out." At the command, Donovan spread his arms and legs as far as his bindings let him, exposing himself to the mechanics. He winced as electricity pulsed through his arms. "I said stretch. Not lazily hold your hands out." Another pulse ran through his body, and again until Donovan's arms were as wide as they could be. "Better. You'd think this would be second nature by now."

Repairs and maintenance were simple. First, a diagnostic would be run to make sure all programs were operational without errors. If any errors were found, they'd resort to popping the specific area open to see what. Often Donovan would wish they found an error, just to feel the embrace of release upon anywhere below his neck, however temporary. Sometimes if a suit was too rusted or dented from work in an area, they'd replace it. Though from experience, he knew there had to be an acceptable level of rust.

Then came the buffering, Donovan's favorite part. With a handheld powered buffer, one of the engineers would wash down any grim or dust from the exoskeleton until it shined. Not for looks, but to reduce wear and tear. The vibrations from the tool felt like the closest thing to a massage depending on how hard the mechanic pressed, and Bob seemed to love challenging Donovan's hydraulics for balance. The bull roughly ran the tool down Donovan's back first, then his legs. He shuddered softly as the sensation grew, higher and higher until the buffer pressed against his crotch plate. His body quivered, hands trying and failing to form a fist as the pleasure built with each second held. His eyes rolled back, his breathing increased, and a moan seeped out.

Bob stopped. "The fuck?" He looked over to the beaver who shrugged back. Pressing against the crotch plate again, Donovan's moans and rapid breaths grew higher and higher. "Todd, unlatch the crotch area. I think there's something wrong with it."

"I didn't detect any obstructions." Todd tapped at his techpad again, "You sure?"

"I'm not, but he's grunting every time I press against it. It's our ass if he walks out and they discover an issue with him that keeps him from working." Grumbling to himself, the bull replaced his buffer with a drill. The vibrations and whirring of the engine bombarded Donovan's crotch with every screw undone until the plate clattered to the floor.

Behind the wires and urethral tube, Donovan's cunt twitched at the exposure. A shiver of undeserved delight ran underneath his fur. How long had it been since he'd felt anything but the tight press of padding and rubber cords against his privates? How damp had he become in that unknown time frame? Bob looked bewildered at the sight of the prisoner's pussy, taking a moment to check Todd's pad between glimpses of the pussy on display. "The fuck?"

"Andromorph." Todd hopped up to snap his pad from Bob's hands.

"Andro what?" The bull asked.

Pad in hand, the beaver answered. "Andromorph. Born with primarily masculine traits despite having female genitalia. All natural, no extra drugs used."

"No fooling?" Bob crouched down to Donovan's crotch level. "Damn, fucker's dripping." Donovan thought about closing his legs only to stay still at the sight of Bob's finger over the remote. The best he could do was look away fruitlessly. "When's the last time he got fucked ya think?"

"I don't know. It's not in his record."

Bob firmly but playfully smacked his partner's head. "Of course, they wouldn't put that in, ya dolt. I was just asking... never mind," he sighed. Scratching the scruff of his neck, the bull eyed Donovan's pussy with interest. Feeling the heat of the cigar unbearably close, the rottweiler peered down past the bull's head to catch what he could outline in the mechanic's pants, eyes wide as it grew steadily. "Can you remove the filter?"

"I don't have a dentistry clearance, at least not without filing a report later."

Again, Bob sighed, "Fucking bureaucracy." He pointed to the wall, "Go there, hands against it and ass out." Donovan twisted around and walked to the nearest wall where his hands braced for support. "Can't fuck 'em in the mouth, no. Bet they'd like it. Give 'em something to taste outside of the tube." Donovan twisted his head as far as he could at the sound of a pulled zipper. Bob's half-hard cock slipped free from its confines, slowly pumped to full erection in his thick grasp. The dog's inner voice screamed at him to pull away, but his body stayed still with both desire and fear. "Mark that we encountered an error in the hydraulics or something. That'll give us plenty of time."

Todd nodded, turning away while typing up his report. "Maybe an error in the program? Say it tried to run?" Donovan shouted into his filter, madly shaking his head. Any documented bad behavior gave him harsher work and worse environments. He'd rather do labor in the city than be sent to the freezing arctic or blistering deserts.

Bob waved his hand. "I don't care. Just give an excuse." Thick fingers curled around the back of Donovan's head. Pulled back, he smelled the smoke on Bob's breath as the bull complained. "If only it wasn't a pain in the ass to remove your anal tube. Guess a cunt will do. Been needing to drain myself all week."

Donovan's body strained from the intruding mechanic. Deep breaths seeped from his nostrils into the filter with every inch digging deeper and spreading him wide. "Huh, thought it'd be tighter," Bob noted, stopping for a second. Taking that pause, Donovan tried to relax himself for the big bull. The mechanic decided to skip the wait and slam the rest of his girth into him.

He screamed into his muzzle. Louder than the dog had expected. "Well damn," The bull laughed, pulling out only to slam down to his hilt "This one's a screamer." thick hands held Donovan's head steady to keep him from shaking. "You'd think it hates this but my cock slipped in without issue. I know plenty of whores who need a day in advance to take me." His judgment came with relentless thrusts that pushed his rottie captive against the wall. "Thing thing must have been wanting a good fuck for ages. Gotta be tiring doing all that hard labor and getting nothing to show for it. Or maybe that's just me. What do I get for keeping shitstains of society prepped and ready between jobs? Shit pay, shit hours, and shit to come home to. Might as well enjoy my benefits."

Heavy hips slapped Donovan as the mechanic used him with only pleasure in mind. Haggard breaths and strained whines were the only resistance he could muster. Too much for Bob's liking. "Todd, do something to shut this thing up." the bull demanded. The valves in his filter twisted in a way that brought head-shaking terror to the rottweiler. His pleading vanished along with his oxygen as the beaver shut off the supply. No breath, no whining, no struggling save for his lungs burning up. "Fuck, that's it!" Bob shouted, fucking with gusto as his hands dug into the dog's fur for grip. "I don't know what you did, but it's tighter now."

"Just set up the tank lock protocol. it'll need air in a minute or so." The beaver said from across the room, already sporting an erection pulled out from his trousers. "I'm having a go next."

"Oh? What happened to Mr. Responsible?" Bob jeered.

"He got horny."

His lungs compressed while every thrust shook his body. Head pulled back, Donovan couldn't do anything but stand and take everything the bull pushed into him, silently praying it'd be over just to breathe. He got his wish with a loud cry from the bull and two body-shaking pelvic thrusts into his cunt. The first with all of Bob's might, the second carrying a flood of his hot seed into the canine's womb. The thrusts slowed, turning to full cock slams into Donovan until Bob slowed. "Fuck..." Bob pulled out, leaving Donovan to feel strangely empty as air rushed back into him. "There, got 'em nice and loose for you, Todd."

Donovan's suit moved on its own. It turned him around to showcase the beaver lying flat on the ground, cock standing high and almost as big as his coworker. With his oxygen back, the rottie took too long to move and was punished with a shock. "Hey, don't let me get soft," Todd demanded. Whimpering with exhaustion, Donovan trudged over and lined his used cunt over the beaver's tips. A guttural whine seeped with panicked breaths as his lower lips were spread by the beaver's cock.

Unlike Bob, Todd didn't force his cock hilt first. But, whereas with Bob, Donovan had to stand still, a few keystrokes on the beaver's pad made the rottweiler bounce and thrust his cunt in tempo with electricity. Too fast? Shock. Too slow? Shock? Stop? Biggest shock. The beaver's fur stood up from the shared electrical contact, yet Todd looked blissfully unhindered by it. Donovan's legs burned at the forced pace as Todd shivered in delight. "Ok...fuck...yeah, I think you're right, Bob."

"Fucking said so." Bob grabbed the touchpad. The hydraulics of Donovan's mask unclenched. "I knew there was a command for this." Todd looked like he wanted to say something but lost his words at the ride Donovan couldn't get off of. Thick fingers grabbed the rottweiler's mask and yanked, pulling out the thick feeding tube that had made its home down the dog's throat.

Barely a cough and a pitiful plea escaped the dog's lips before Bob grabbed the prisoner's nose. Gasping for breath, his first breath of fresh air came with the heavy musk of the bull's cunt and cum drenched cock, followed by the forceful and warm feeling shoved down his throat. "Holy fuck." Bob said, straddling Donovan's head with firm fingers dug deep into his scalp. "Feeding tube really does take away the gag reflex."

Balls smacked against his chin as Bob used him like a personal pole polisher. The taste of combined juices was welcomed if only to just be different from the tasteless meals that seeped down his tube.

Todd cried out but the zaps did not stop. Donovan kept slamming into the rod as spurt after spurt shot into him. Bob's cock railed the living fuckhole until he slammed just hard enough and stayed there, filling Donovan's nostrils with the scent of his pubic fur as seed shot down his gullet.

"That's it." Bob slapped Donovan's face with the drenched member right after pulling out. "Fuck, I need to get myself a drone or some realDoll. How much do those run for, Todd?" When no one answered, he looked down. "Todd?" The beaver stared back up in a haze, breaths heavy as another load rocked his body and filled Donovan.

Donovan fell over when the thrusts finally stopped. Too exhausted to enjoy the freedom to speak, he watched the ceiling while recollecting himself. The thought of escape lingered, made stronger now that his suit's lock had been disabled. But would it matter? He couldn't walk out without another guard spotting him, and they'd likely be just as charitable as the two mechanics.

"Welp, best seal him back up," Bob muttered, letting a drill whir in his hands. Donovan's ears perked. He looked on with despair as the mechanic lined his crotch plate and drilled it back in. The pulse of each screw teased him to the point where words turned to slush when he begged them not to seal him up yet. Maybe they could go another round? This time without needing the shocks to motivate him. Anything to give him the chance for some relief.

Neither mechanic seemed interested. "Todd, can you shove the tube back down his throat already? I'm tired of his whining."

***

Body aching, Donovan found himself shoved up against the wall of bodies as the last unit to be pushed into transport. If he was first, he couldn't hear the guards talk about where the truck was going. Being last, the words 'Clean up duty' and 'dump' kept repeating in sentences. Donovan closed his eyes as the doors shut behind him, praying that he'd get at least some standing sleep on his way to the labor.

Rough hands and harsh poundings haunted his dreams throughout the trip.