FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

WARNING do not read if you don't want to be turned on by snuff. This story contains heavy violence and graphic content. Viewer discrection is advised.

Faces Come Out of the Rain

Andrew stormed out of the apartment, he was pissed off. Pissed off at Austyn and Jon for being so damn irresponsible, didn't they remember that they had rehearsals today? They should have, he reminded them enough.

Fuck it.

He was severely pissed off that's all Andrew was certain of at the moment. He went for a walk trying to cool down. Most of his friends didn't know it but he had very bad anger issues, he tried to keep them in check though. That was mainly why he was taking a walk was to blow off some steam.

He walked through the bad part of the city just looking for somebody, anybody really to help him with all the stress and anger he had accumulated in his life.

Turning into an alley he surveyed his position. The alley was long and dark; it turned at a ninety degree angle a few meters down. Great he thought to himself this would be perfect. He pulled out a box cutter and slowly extended the blade all the way down.

"Time to go hunting." He mumbled his being anxious for the fun to start.

Andrew lied in bed later, gently stroking the patch of fur in his hands. That was all he had left of her, just the patch of fur he cut from her. His right hand wondered down his stomach to his softly furred sheath. He lightly ran the side of his snow leopard paw over his furred balls, shivering slightly, getting his second taste of pleasure that night. He thought back to the scared little mutt he encountered earlier that day. Homeless and filthy, he didn't dare touch her intimately, but he wanted to feel her all the same. That's why he had the little rectangular patch of fur in his left hand. Left over from her dingy yellow pelt.

He was walking down the alley slowly, his eyes scanning the assorted boxes and other garbage carefully lest his miss something in the murky alley.

He turned around suddenly, his ears catching the sound of movement. He saw a box shake lightly and he quietly advanced upon it. All of his senses were heightened for the moment, he felt no stress, and this was what he was here for.

His shaft was erect now, and gently he wrapped his fingers around it. While caressing the small patch of fur in his left hand, he slowly moved his right. In a gentle up and down motion he started to derive pleasure from that filthy mutt of a fur, whose being he loved so much.

He paused just in front of the boxes that gave off a slight movement, waiting to see some fur, something to cling to.

Then he saw it, what looked like a yellow furred arm. He grabbed it with the lightning fast action that only big cats possess. He yanked the furred arm up to the surface of the dingy, damp alley.

There was a moment of struggling while he tried to pin her down. She was lashing out now, struggling. He pinned her arms beneath her back and his stomach. Holding her towards his lap as they had fallen down in the struggle. He quickly brought the box cutter up to her throat.

"If you fucking scream I'll cut your throat from ear to ear you mutt." He growled at her.

She responded with a muffled cry, obviously trying to save her life by remaining quite. He looked at her and saw that she was indeed a mutt, a bitch of indiscernible breed. She was thin, starved from the streets, and her fur was a neglected yellow. Andrew realized at one point that she must have been a rather pretty puppy.

She was still whimpering, so Andrew leaned in close to one of her floppy mutt ears to whisper into it.

"Shhhh. I'm not going to hurt you; I just want to sing you a little song."

He was pumping his hand faster now, getting the full taste of pleasure from his actions. He started to feel euphoric, pleasure spread throughout his entire body. Pumping his hips involuntarily his body begged for release. He held out slowing down before going into the home stretch. His paw touching all the small barbs of his cock. His left hand feeling the patch of fur in it, running his fingers through its softness.

He coughed gently warming his voice to the song in his head; he was going to rehearse today one way or another.

"People are strange, when you're a stranger. Faces look ugly when you're alone." He began softly

"Women seem wicked, when you're unwanted. Streets are uneven when you're down." He began to crescendo slightly.

She had started whimpering again, and while singing Andrew gently ran the hand with the box cutter down her face soothingly.

"When you're strange, Faces come out of the rain."

With a quick twitch of his wrist he sliced her down her left side a long and shallow painful gash.

"When you're strange, no one remembers you're name."

Another quick little slice and she had another shallow cut along her legs.

She would have been screaming at this point had Andrew not used his other hand to clamp her muzzle shut. He held it down with the strength of epinephrine coursing through his veins.

"When you're strange, when you're strange, when you're strange."

"People are strange, when you're a stranger. Women seem wicked when you're unwanted; streets are uneven when you're down."

He started off with a long slice across her chest, making it jagged quickly tearing past her raggedy fur into the soft flesh that it failed to protect.

He moved with a fury now, at the speeds only those thin and Lethe big cats could produce. Pumping his barbed cock with his hand. He saw her face, saw her body. He felt her fur with his left hand, gnashing his teeth together approaching the end rapidly.

She was wailing, and screaming now against his hand which locked her muzzle shut. He didn't care though; he didn't want to practice in front of an audience much longer.

"When you're strange, faces come out of the rain."

He led with a long shallow cut across her arms that got deeper as it went scraping bone at the end.

"When you're strange, no one remembers you're name." He went across her stomach with a cut similar to the last, hitting intestine at his deepest point.

"When you're strange, when you're strange, when you're strange, all right yeah."

Switching the grip on his knife he went from cutting her to stabbing the blade into her fur in a series of sharp motions, hitting to the rhythm of the harpsichord in his head.

"When you're strange faces come out of the rain. When you're strange no one remembers you're name. When you're strange, when you're strange. When you're strange."

He started at her left ear and cut down her throat sliding the blade the same way he slide his voice along the note, slow and meaningfully.

He exploded, seeing nothing as all the blood from his eyes was rushing down to his throbbing member. His soft white underbelly became sticky with cum. He came long and hard, panting trying to reclaim breathe that was lost from pleasure. He tossed the fur aside and rolled over content to sleep the night away.

He stood up and watched her; she made a horrible gurgling sound and was thrashing violently. He had to act quickly, before she perspired as he didn't like touching dead things. He took the box cutter and quickly cut a rectangular piece of fur off of her tummy, the blade going in easily from the lubrication of blood. He got the piece off quickly and soon watched as her struggling started to slow and finally stopped. She lay there in her blood, quietly resting like he found her to begin with.

Walking down the alley he began to whistle a tune, heading back to his apartment to have some quality alone time. Just him and her fur, and the memories of the night.