FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

There we are. “ The Furloughing ”, with the “fur” letters having little animal tails or ears or whiskers to decorate. Interesting pun for a strip-club, if you ask me! Not that I care much about the name. Anyway: The Furloughing, with its massive, bright neon letters, could be spotted from miles away. It’s the most hyped strip-club in the entire city, probably because it’s the only one that has anthro strippers. And yeah, I know what you’re thinking, but just because humanoid animals have been cohabiting with humans for as far as civilization can remember doesn’t mean there won’t be any stigma around it. Some dudes really like their pussy human and some furs want their tits all scaley. Or fuzzy. Sometimes both!

But this place here, however, is an exception. Promising “exotic wonders for those who dare venture inside”. Yeah, company’s motto. I know. No comment. Though, it’s still fairly true, and that’s the reason why most people come here: you don’t get to fuck a centaur everyday. It’s a nice touch to add to the résumé, y’know. Especially if you’re catching.

Considering my clothing – or lack of clothing thereof, it isn’t hard to pinpoint me as someone who’s either a stripper looking for a good place to grab some cash, or someone who plans on hitting the club and having as much fun as one.

I can see Rox guarding the entrance. This man has got to be the best bouncer I’ve ever seen. And you wouldn’t believe it at first glance, either; he’s not like your typical bouncer. You’d always expect some big, burly mountain of muscles, right? But Rox? Nah. The tiny little guy is barely four feet tall, and yet he can pretty much tear apart anybody who even thinks about causing trouble. Maybe it’s because he’s an ant? I dunno. He’s got tricks up his sleeve. One wouldn’t believe it until seeing it. And don’t even get me started on him being a 5th dan in karate.

Approaching him, I skip the line of people waiting at the entrance, high-fiving him on my way in: “Hey, Rox. Keep up the good work!” He returned the greeting with a smile, shutting down the grumbling bystanders unhappy to see someone skip the queue. Some of the people here are regulars, enough to know that there’s a reason why Rox isn’t keeping me out. Others not so much; no wonder, considering new people show up here everyday.

“Always a pleasure to see you around, Stella! Hope you have fun today!

“You know it, Rox!”

Walking past the door, I’m immediately welcomed by the club’s atmosphere: the first thing catching your eye, quite literally, are the lights. Red, blue, purple, yellow, orange… anything and everything is game, a rainbow showering everyone under the projectors. Then, there’s the music: a literal shockwave, hitting you as soon as you enter, shaking through your entire body, piercing right through your soul, down to your very core. Though if you ask me, you get used to it eventually. I have. And despite some people disliking the intense noise, it helps me. I feel like it’s the perfect way to drown my worries. I can resonate with the songs, and they empower me. Make me feel prouder, sexier… The tune screams, and I scream along with it. Can’t think about the meaning of life if you’re too busy shouting along the lyrics of a song, right?

Finally, there’s the people – and as if on cue, a slap on my ass pulls me out of my thoughts. And of course, the culprit is none other than Greta. It’s her way of greeting me.

“Nice to see you too, Gret’!” I wave at her as she’s giggling, dancing between the crowd as she goes to serve drinks.

“You know it, babe! Go get ‘em!”

She’s always so cheerful. I honestly don’t get how she could be, what with doing something as boring as serving drinks. I’d rather… well. Fuck all night, literally. Maybe that’s why she always wants to know about my evenings. She sometimes gossips a lot about clients getting too handsy with her curves when she’s going around the tables at the bar– it’s one of her biggest turn-ons for some reason. Though seeing how much of an extrovert she is, I guess I can’t be surprised she’s an exhibitionist? Heck, I’m a bit of one myself after all.

But yeah, everybody’s wild here. The Furloughing’s a place that speaks for itself; just as the name implies, people are just… laying off. Dancing, singing, drinking, hell, even groping, kissing, and at rare times, fucking. Though most people wait to be in the private rooms to start, especially since it’s not really allowed out in the open area like this. Doesn’t stop horndogs from trying though…

When you’re past most of the crowd, you get to the bar; though it’s not what I’m here for. The drinks are lovely, the company even more – but duty calls. Or booty? Both sounds good. Especially the booty. Anyway – I’m side-tracking again. I don’t know why, but whenever I wear this… “body”, even my state of mind changes. I think about… well, sex, mostly. And a lot of the time, too. Maybe that’s why I picked this job. I have no idea what came over me back at the interview, either. Well, aside from a few horny people.

Closing the backdoor behind me, I can’t help but lean on it and sigh. Sometimes, like right now, doubt overwhelms me. It always feels like the “old me” is talking. When all of a sudden this job, this second life, it all comes crashing down on me. Making me realize how tired I am. It always makes me hesitate, even if for just a moment. What if all of this had been a big mistake? What if I should’ve stuck to my old, boring life?

But when I see my very own dressing room, further down the corridor… The answer’s obvious: I’m already here, I’ve already started going down this strange path. So I might as well go all the way, right? See where it takes me. And right now, it’s taking me right into my dressing room so I can get ready for my big entrance.

It never takes me too long to get ready for the stage; natural talent, or I’m just that gifted, or both. I have the looks, I have the mindset, so what else is there to ask for really? I don’t really know, and I don’t really care either. Especially when nothing can beat walking up on stage. The adrenaline… The cheering… and then?

_ It’s showtime. _

I never quite exactly remember what happens next. It’s weird, isn’t it? Maybe I just get in the zone, or maybe I get lost in my feelings. It’s just… It’s amazing. I don’t even know if I can describe it. When I’m on stage, I don’t resonate with the music anymore. I am the music. It moves as I move, it stretches as I stretch… The pole I’m dancing around on is just another tool I bent to my will for my performance, just like the lights. You’d think wearing twenty centimeters high heels, booty shorts so tight they feel like they’re about to rip every time I do a split, and a bra so small it threatens to tear whenever I thrust my chest forward would make the experience uncomfortable, but for some reason it’s quite the opposite. It’s exhilarating. Maybe a little bit too much, because I can feel myself growing wet, and my mind knows it’s not just sweat. The crowd probably likes that too, because it’s impossible to forget the booming roars, the whistling, all those eyes staring between my legs… It’s all part of the performance. Even the bills they keep throwing at me are nothing but mere confetti only helping reflect the light against my scales better. When on stage, I am as bright as a star…

_ I am the star of this club, and my name is Stella. _

The almost deafening silence at the end of the performance always gets me out of my trance-like state. Whether I am standing, doing a split, or bending over pressing my ass against the pole… It lasts a solid few seconds, enough for the cacophony of applause to hit me like a sand castle getting washed away by the ocean’s waves.

But nonetheless, I always thank the crowd. Bowing, waving, even blowing some kisses for a few extra lucky spectators, until I disappear out of their sight, back into the darkness of the backstage. It always makes me feel so special. This makes me feel… warmth. Confident. Happy, and fully content.

Truth is... finding this costume helped me feel so many things I had almost forgotten. I’m no longer a boring guy living in the cold darkness of his own body. I can be someone. And now, I am a rising star bathing in the heat of her glory. Each time I leave the scene, my crotch is soaking wet, and my chest is on fire. My mind feels so mushy, and it’s never easy to walk back to my room. But when I do get there? Oh, man, those fingers finally get some action. I can’t ever get enough of how the claws feel, either. Though I don’t think you’re here to hear about me jerking off, right?

Anyway. The club life is… so much wilder than I thought it would be at first. I’ve been to clubs a couple times in the past, and it would never have gotten me ready for when I first joined. Witnessing it and living it are so incredibly different it feels like you’ve walked into another dimension. I guess it also depends on your job. Probably being a bartender at a chill place is not the same as one of the top strippers of the biggest spot in town.

There’s always something going on; even when sitting alone in my dressing room I sometimes hear the music, the shouting, the moaning, and everything in between. I think the bar is definitely one of my favorite places though; that’s why I always make sure I hang around a bit after being on stage. Today, Greta’s busy there as well, on top of serving drinks. She waves at me as I slip behind the counter and help her around the bar.

“Girl, you gotta stop cumming on the stage.”

“What, like you don’t bust a dozen nuts every time you’re on waitress duty?” I retort.

She laughs. “Touché.”

“How’re the clients tonight?”

“Oh, there are a lot of feisty ones, but I’m seeing a couple new faces tonight.” The hippo briefly points at a timid-looking deer with a nod, “For example. See that one over there? She’s been staring at me the whole night.”

A quick look at Greta is enough to figure out why; who wouldn’t be staring at that plus-sized bombshell? Her curves are to die for, be it the plush, squeezable love handles, the way her leotard just melds into her shape, emphasizing every fold, her fat tits and dump-truck ass just barely contained, threatening to spill out whenever she has to slightly bend over… Though some like her most for the ridiculous bulge between her legs. 'Uniform hugs her crotch just right, and judging by the way the deer girl over there is drooling, that’s where she’s been staring. I know I have.

When she notices I’m staring at her, she looks away, pretending to be somewhere else, a blush on her face. With a grin, I nudge Greta.

“Ten bucks I can get her into my room within five minutes.”

“Wha-haaat?” she laughs. “No way. Twenty bucks it’ll take you at least ten minutes.”

“Deal.”

Almost sliding off the counter, I wipe a few beads of sweat off my brow– gotta be on top of my seduction game. There’s no empty seats next to her, but that hasn’t ever stopped me before. All it takes is to lean against the counter, and…

“Hey there, cutie. I’ve seen you staring, you know?”

Just as expected she almost bursts into flames, her face going so red it’s a shame; it clashes with her natural coat, which looks so lovely. She’s a babbling mess, unable to string more than two words together– so I give her a little hand and simply shush her gently, poking at her lips with one finger.

“That’s alright. In fact, if work didn’t keep us so busy, I’d be the one staring. Luckily, I’ve got a few minutes to myself, and this means”– I hop up, pulling her off her seat and away from the bar –“We get to have some fun. Whaddya say?”

“I--Uhh! I m-mean… Sure? It’s just that-- Well, I…”

I gently, but firmly guide her towards the “private fun” area. After a few quick turns of my own little personal key, I drag her into the cozy, comfy, dimly-lit bedroom, and sit her down on the edge of the bed. She looks quite literally like a deer in headlights, fidgeting and stuttering at me like that.

“Hey, relax , girl.” I put my hands on her shoulders, giving her a little pat. “Don’t worry. I noticed you weren’t staring at me specifically, but my pretty hot, stacked as fuck co-worker. Am I right?”

After a short silence, she nods shyly.

“Good. Now, whaddya say I introduce the two of you? Get to know her a little bit more… in-depth?” I ask her, winking. Man, my innuendo game is so strong. Once again, though, she nods so softly it takes me a few seconds to be sure she actually said yes.

“Great. Then stay right here, girl.”

When I come back to the bar, the first thing Greta does is pout at me.

“I can’t believe you actually made it.”

“Told ya I could. Though I’ll do you one better: what if I told you, she’s alone, waiting for a big, fat-dicked hippo gal to come rock her world?”

The face she makes is priceless. Oh man. If only you could see it.

“No way. You didn’t…?”

I nod. “She’s all yours, girl.” With a spank on her ass, I send her her way. “Go get ‘em, babe. I’ll fill in for your shift.”

“Holy fuck, Stella. I’ll remember that.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Greta bail out of her shift faster than that. It’s crazy what horniness does to people, right? I mean, look at me for example. I’m already salivating at some girl’s fat fucking tits. The way they jiggle as she laughs at whatever she’s reading on her phone… Is it her boyfriend? Girlfriend? Maybe she’s just looking at silly animal videos on the internet? I don’t know and I don’t care to be honest, all I want is to mash my face in those motherfuckin’ goddamn honkers and-- oh dear, I digress again.

It’s not good to get too distracted at work anyway. Especially when you’re at the bar; wouldn’t want the drunkards to get too angry after all.

Anyway. It’s nice to indulge. The bar is always so full of life. Hotties I can wink and wiggle my hips at. Shy little introverts I watch burst into flames when I tease them with my sexiest voice. Enjoying the more “hands-on” clients by being just as grabby as them, dancing those fingers in places where they shouldn’t be.

For some reason, tonight feels all the more intense. Extra torrid. Passionate. Eventually everything blends together. The flashing colors become a raging tornado of rainbows. The booming noises sink into your heart, thrumming in sync. Drinks and food don’t even make sense anymore. The words coming out of peoples’ mouths are just gibberish. There’s a drinking competition going on. Cheering. Shouting. Glasses banging against the bar. And then everything goes dark.

When I wake up, gasping from the shock of freezing water on my head, I’m in the employees’ lounge: our own little private and cozy corner when we need a few minutes break from the party. Weird. I was in the bar earlier. My head hurts like hell, though, and the light isn’t helping. Thankfully, something blocks it… Somebody? I can’t make out what they’re saying. My vision is so blurry.

What the hell is going on?

“...--lla! Are you okay? Come on, get a hold of yourself!”

Right. They’re right. He’s right; I recognize that voice. That’s Arnold. One of the male strippers-- even though at first glance he doesn’t look like it. He’s so incredibly girly, his flamboyant femininity makes it hard to believe he’s a dude even when he whips out his massive dick.

After some groaning and unintelligible mumbling, all I can manage to finally blurt out is one question:

“What the hell happened?”

“What do you mean ‘what the hell happened’? You tell me, girl! You took on a drinking contest and ended up so smashed you just… passed out.”

“Oh my god. Are you fucking serious?”

He frowns, clearly worried. “I wish I wasn’t. You’ve literally never done that! What’s gotten into you?”

It takes all of my brain power to process this question. In fact, I don’t know the answer to that! What has gotten into me? This isn’t normal. I’ve never done this. The past few… minutes? Hours? I don’t know how long I was out, but the most recent events are just a blank.

That’s not good. Oh shit.

“I… don’t know,” is all I can say before dragging myself off of the couch, barely managing to stand up straight. “I… I think I have to go home.”

“What?... Are you sure? Are you even okay?”

“Yeah!...” I give him a reassuring thumbs up, only to hiccup, barely holding myself back from barfing all the alcohol I’ve drank later this evening, apparently. “...Actually no, I feel like shit. I mean, I’m not okay, but I’m sober! I should be fine!” Hopefully.

Ignoring his calls, I simply stagger my way out of the lounge, then out of the club.

Holy fuck, does the cold, fresh night air feel divine. It’s like my head was about to literally explode and suddenly it’s fine. Well, I still have a massive headache, but I don’t feel like I’m about to die anymore. That’s great!... Wait, no, hold on. I think it’s coming back.

And then it goes away. And comes back. It keeps coming and going in waves until I finally get home, where the existential dread finally catches up to me, and I feel like I’m really going to fucking kick the bucket any second now. That’s odd. What the hell is happening to me? Everyday’s been the same. I wake up. I go to my boring, daytime job. I come back home. I eat dinner, sleep a little bit, then head to my nighttime job. Then I go back home again, and pass out in my bed.

But today… Today something’s different. I can’t tell what, but I can feel it. I don’t know why, but I’m terrified. My heart feels like it’s going to rip out of my chest– both inner and outer. A visceral fear.

My first instinct is to get the fuck out. Flee. But get out of where? Right-- the most obvious answer my head can manage: the suit. For some reason I forgot I have it on but also the idea of removing it fills me with even more panic. Calm down, my guy. You’re gonna get out of the weird dragon suit that literally transforms you into it.

And I did get out. Looking down at the now empty suit, my body drenched in cold sweat, it’ clear that something’s wrong, even though I have no fucking clue what.

Maybe I should take a break for a few days. Go back to my normal, boring human life. Yeah. That should do it.