FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The moon hung high in the sky, a glimmering pearl so out of place in a too-calm sea of molten ebony. A tiny white star glinted here or there or over there, but no more - the night held to it the kind of derelict loneliness given off by a burnt-down house in the middle of a forest of dead trees, the kind of loneliness that seemed wanted or proper, the kind of loneliness that was meant to be. In this forest below the empty sky, there was no burnt-down house; there was nothing out-of-place; there was nothing really visible, nothing to differentiate physical presence from half-conceived shadow; nothing seemed to be alive. Every once in a while a phantom breeze would murmur its way through the empty treetops and evoke a sleepy whisper, but then, nothing more. It was the kind of loneliness that hung over everything like a somber mist, a voice too quiet to be heard clearly, a shadow you thought you saw. It was everywhere at once, almost physically palpable.

A different shadow swam through the others, smooth and sure, elegant. Beneath its heavy feet crunched twigs and fallen leaves, forgotten husks devoid of the life they once housed. It cut a path through the trees by memory, turning here, ducking there, looking up, looking down. Silent, crisp brown sentinels stand legionnaire watch from the same place they were years, decades, centuries ago; these trees had watched this shadow make its course time and time again, through dry day, empty night, rain, snow. The shadow was the forest's friend: it was not complete without it.

In the distance rose a mountain that looked as if its upper half had been cleaved off - a plateau, barren and empty of any discerning features like the sky, the shadow's destination. It stopped, stood to its full height, sniffed the air, swished its tail. The moon provided more than enough light for its sharpened eyes: it could clearly pick out the earthy palette of colors along the face of the plateau and could discern the individual trunks of the trees from one another for at least one hundred, one hundred fifty yards in any given direction. On the still air it smelled mold, rotten wood, dry wood, dead leaves, a dammed river somewhere to the left. This night was just like every other night before - it was just as gloomy, just as lonely, just as impeccable dark, just as wonderful. This is the shadow's home - it could find its way from any one point in the forest to any other point in the forest.

This shadow is tall, large, closely lupine: it stands at around eight feet, maybe more, maybe less, with chest, belly, arms, and legs rippled with sharp muscles. Fur flowed over those muscles and held close to their lines, varying in tones and shades of grey from blank white to cool slate to rich and thick charcoal black Keen gemstone eyes reflected whatever wan half-light the moon gave off - if it could so be called light - and seemed to glow with an eminence of their own, which might have been the case if it wasn't impossible. This creature was powerful, formidable, intimidating - and it knew it. It was the sole ruler of this forest, something that nothing else could ever hope to be. It made sure it would stay that way.

The shadow bent back down and continued on its way through the tight trees, weaving its way along like a long-practiced professional. It floated along through the darkness, a stone-tinted ghost in elegance, silence, smoothness; leaves and twigs crunched under its feet, yes, and it snapped branches above with its height, but these noises, these interruptions, seem to not exist - this forest belongs to it, to him, and he chose what does and does not happen. In his world, he is a memory only half-remembered, a silent shadow with an unknown source, a specter that didn't fully exist and yet wasn't fully nonexistent. In short, he was stealth.

This late autumn night was a particularly cold one - every exhalation of breath from nose or mouth seemed almost to freeze and crystallize in midair before floating upward with the lethargic almost-grace of some half-dead creature. However, the cold couldn't even so much as come close to touching this creature: his thick fur warded off any and all fingers of icy chill that yearned to lick his skin and sap his heat. He was the ultimate predator. Sharp eyes, strong body, keen mind - the perfect recipe for the perfect hunter.

He slowed as he finally drew to the foot of the plateau. He stopped, breathed in the crisp air, looked up - it was the only thing in the forest that seemed to truly tower over him, and that was why he made it his home. There, he was safe, and could relax - something he couldn't do (rather, that he wouldn't let himself do) anywhere else. There, he could be himself.

He turned and kept his pace slow, dragging a claw over the rough rock face; little particles of grit floated down, caught in his fur. To his right, something skittered off into the bushes - he gave it a noncommittal earflick and whiskertwitch, and that was that. It wasn't a threat to him. Nothing was.

Behind a low-hanging cluster of trees, the wall of the plateau knifed inward - this was where he wanted to be. He had to duck to get through the entrance, but that matter resolved itself within a few yards. In here, it was cool, damp, dark - darker than outside, but again, that didn't matter because of his eyesight. The scents in his nose changed gradually from cold and nature to moist earth to something more relaxing and familiar that he hardly went a day without smelling: in the deepest reaches of the cave, of his den, it smelled primarily of himself - and... latex.

The ceiling vaulted up here, and the lighting changed. This was his den - smooth, secure, ordered, home. He was not a savage - no, far from it: torches burned in iron sconces on the walls; a gold-frilled burgundy rug adorned the center of this room, a nice piece he had acquired a few years back; there was a table and chair - both carved by him from single blocks of wood - pushed back into a raised alcove in the wall; an iron-reinforced wooden column supported the ceiling in the center of the room; and, off in separate areas of this 'house' of his were his kitchen, sleeping quarters, study, everything anyone else' home would have - and a certain workshop down below. This cave was mostly natural: he just modified some things about it. Almost everything here he had made himself.

"Good to see you back, master. How was your walk?"

Including the servant. He had made that, too.

"Thank you, Gahkan," he replied. "It went well. I do love this time of year."

"As do I. Though, to be honest, I've been awaiting your return - you were out there for a while, master."

"Oh?" He turned and looked at Gahkan; his dragon stood near a doorway to a different room, torchlight shining through his translucent body. His head was pointed to the floor, and he held his claws in front of his body. "And even though I made you, I don't want you calling me master unless I otherwise say - I've told you that. Call me by my name. Alright?"

The latex dragon shifted where he stood and glanced up. "Bhrutei." He looked back down. "I was starting to miss you."

Bhrutei perked his ears, and he looked over from combing his claws through his fur. "Really, now?"

"Yes. It gets so lonely around here when you're gone." Gahkan looked up again, met his maker's eyes, looked back down. He wore nothing but a latex thong to cover himself: it was warmer in this deeper region of the cave than anywhere else - and besides, he didn't really feel cold. It was about as little a problem for him as it was for this big alpha worgen standing a full two feet higher than his six-foot self.

"Tell you what." Bhrutei stepped over: his dragon's eyes flicked up. "You and me - we'll spend some extra special time together later, okay?"

"I would enjoy that." Gahkan smiled. "Oh - shall I get you anything?"

"A glass of wine would do nicely - red. From the cellar."

Bhrutei watched the dragon as he departed: perfect anatomy of this area's common wyvern, flawless intelligence for his mother species and age - if not above average, with refined etiquette that was made a point of to put in - fine form, unrivaled grace, and other... enhanced attributes. As a craftsman for uncountable years on end, Gahkan is by far Bhrutei's proudest creation; never before had he met anyone else who had created a living, thinking, feeling consciousness as he had, and he doubted he would meet someone else that had before his death. Gahkan was, in essence, perfect - better than that, even. He was a servant, an advisor, a companion, a friend... a lover at times. Was it wrong to treat a creation as a person? The worgen pondered this as he slid down into the chair near the table. Sure, Gahkan wasn't a flesh-and-blood creature of natural birth - as, of course, he had no flesh or blood and was more awoken than born - but he was still alive, somehow. That was a thing Bhrutei himself didn't fully understand - there was always the chance he might be insane and Gahkan was not alive, or even existent, but the things the dragon had done both for and to him were far, far too much to attribute to a single mind, no matter how powerful. Gahkan was something else, a creature, a soul, another pulsing life capable of doing anything anyone else could.

The dragon turned the corner with a silver goblet in his hand; he carried it with a sure, precise balance the worgen could not hope to mimic. "Here you are," he said, and then placed it on the table; Bhrutei thanked him with a raised paw, and took a sip.

"Gahkan." He set the goblet down. "What do you think about during the day?"

He was silent for a moment, thinking. "Well," he began, slowly, "lots of things."

"List some of them."

"I think about how to improve our home - for purpose, convenience, or otherwise; how to please you and make you happy; how things work, how the world works, how you work -"

"Do you ever think about how - why - you work - live?"

Gahkan blinked, and tilted his head. Bhrutei took another sip of his wine. "Well, there's no point to question what is already known, is there?"

"Hm?" The worgen set the goblet back down and leaned back in his chair. He looked over his dragon - his little horns, his green eyes, the smooth ridges of his chest and belly, how his thong served more to outline than conceal... "Explain your answer for me, please."

"Well, I'm alive because that's the way you made me. Wondering why any other characteristic of me is as it is would yield the same answer. I could ask of you: why is your fur grey, why are your eyes amber, why is your cock knotted?"

Bhrutei smiled. He would often question his dragon like this. "Because I inherited those things from my parents."

"Because that's the way they made you." Gahkan leaned against the wall; his thong was pulled forward, and Bhrutei had a clear view of what was beneath. He licked his lips.

"What about emotions?"

"What about them?"

"What do you feel?"

The dragon closed his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest; Bhrutei took another sip of his wine. "Happiness. Sadness. Anger, fear, pleasure, pain. Varying degrees and combinations of these - everything you feel, I would presume."

"Curiosity?"

"Of course." He looked over, one eyebrow raised. "Was I not curious, I would never ask questions or wonder about things or... or do much of anything, really."

"Tell me, Gahkan - do you know what curiosity - or want, rather - and pleasure together make?" Bhrutei downed the rest of his wine and turned the glass over; a small circle of the burgundy liquid seeped out from under the brim and soaked into the wood of the table.

"I could guess."

"Lust." The worgen stands.

"Lust?" Gahkan tilted his head further. "I don't think..."

"I know." Bhrutei stepped up to the dragon. "How do you know my cock is knotted?"

"I've seen it."

"Look at it now." He does. "Day and night, I wear absolutely nothing, and you've ever once looked upon me with lust. Day and night, you wear next to absolutely nothing, and yet I find I lust after you."

"I don't -"

"What do you see now?"

"Hm?"

"My cock."

Gahkan looked closer. "Your sheath. Black fur, big, probably fills my palm. There's a slit at the tip."

"Touch me."

The dragon reached out, ran a finger up and down the velvet fur, leaned in closer. "It's warm. Soft..." He wrapped his hand around it, squeezed, rubbed, massaged. "Your tip is sliding out."

"Lust..." murred Bhrutei, feeling the dragon's gentle yet confident touch on him. "Lust is a potent drug. Once you've tasted it, you want more, more, always more - and when your want is fulfilled, it just comes back." Though the two had slept together time and time again, they had never done anything of this sort; Bhrutei wanted to show his dragon the richest of life's pleasure, and now was the time for that. He felt Gahkan wrap a finger around his lengthening shaft and bucked, stifling a grunt. "Once it takes control of you, it doesn't let go until it's beaten off - quite literally, in some cases."

"If it's a drug," said Gahkan, studying the thick red meat that continuously slid out into his hand, "why do you give in?"

"Not all drugs are bad."

"So all those times you laid on the bed, or leaned against the wall, or sat back in the chair, with your cock in your paw...?"

"All acts in the pursuit of fulfilling lust, yes."

"And the times you've told me to pose nude while you did that?"

"Lust." Bhrutei licked his lips and breathed out a sigh, knot beginning to widen the base of his sheath. "The highest form of pleasure."

Gahkan tugged his knot past his sheath, and bent down to inspect its throbbing. "I want to know how it feels."

Bhrutei places a large paw on the latex dragon's head. "Taste me."

"What?"

"Just one lick. That's all it takes."

Gahkan tilted his head again, then ran his tongue up the underside, glistening with the worgen's liquid musk; his eyes widened, and he promptly licked his lips. "Wow."

"Is it not intoxicating?" Bhrutei's low voice rumbled in his throat; the dragon took another lick. "Can you not feel a stir in your own cock, Gahkan? Do you feel a want for more, but can't explain why?"

"I've... felt this before," mused the dragon, rubber tongue sliding smoothly. The straps of his thong looked stressed, and the front tented out. "Times when I watched you... sometimes I could smell, and I never could draw my eyes away - but I was scared to tell you, embarrassed..."

"Nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it's something you should... give in to." Bhrutei reached a paw down, closed it around Gahkan's hand, guided him to stroke the throbbing cock in front of his face. "I designed you to feel heightened pleasure in lust - you'll feel something very few of us do on release."

"Release?"

"You'll see. Stand."

Gahkan did so, and Bhrutei kneeled down in front of him - the scent of warm latex filled his nose and mind, and he took a few seconds to take it in before cupping the dragon's protruding bulge in his paw. It had been long since he had felt something like this in his pw, and oh, did he miss it.

Gahkan faltered, and reached an arm out to the wall to support himself. A deep sigh seeped out his nostrils, and he closed his eyes. "That... ohh, Bhrutei..."

The worgen hooked his fingers under the straps of the thong and pulled down, down, down... the hard cock bobbed down in front of his nose, and he licked his lips. Gahkan was larger than any dragon he had seen, and that was by design - and, oh, how he loved dragons. Ridged, exotic, beautiful; they turned him o like nothing else could. How he had longed for this moment with Gahkan to come - he loved dragons, he loved cock, he loved latex, and combining all of these in one... he leaned in, ran his broad, flat tongue over the ridged underside, did it again, and again. The latex was smooth and slick in his mouth; he closed his lips around the dragon's tip and bobbed down and up, down and up, down and up.

"That's fantastic..." purred the dragon, and gently humped forward. "This is what you felt all those times you..."

"All those times I was pawing off, yes. After today, you'll be good for one more thing..."

"And what would that be?"

The worgen stood, and moved one of Gahkan's hands back to his meat. "A toy. My sex slave, something used to sate my deepest wants and desires. Now, you've had a taste of lust, of this powerful venomous want, and let me ask you: do you want more?"

"Yes." The dragon ran his fingers up Bhrutei's soft-furred sack. "I want more... so, so much more."

"You can now please me more than you ever before could." Bhrutei placed a paw on Gahkan's shoulder and pushed down. "Now suck, as I did you. Please me."

The dragon knelt down on one knee and tilted his master's thick cock toward him with a finger and thumb beneath the wide knot. His nostrils flared, and he licked his lips; Bhrutei saw him reach down and stroke himself before leaning in and promptly diving down. Bhrutei let out a sigh and clenched his other paw into a fist: Gahkan's gentle, eager confidence proved him to be a better partner than anyone else despite this being his first time at anything of the sort. Because of his body composition, it felt to Bhrutei as if he was being blown while wearing a condom - which was a different and wonderful sensation all of its own.

One paw on the back of Gahkan's head, he guided and regulated his movements: having no gag reflex, the thick twelve-inch length slid easily in and out of his mouth and throat. The smooth contours of Bhrutei's hard flesh pressed into and over the latex tongue that so deliciously cupped his cock, and his veins pumped and throbbed... his knot pressed up against Gahkan's lips once, twice, again, again, while he tilted and turned his head, while he gently scraped his fangs over the rich glistening canid member...

Bhrutei moved his other paw to the back of the dragon's head to accompany the one that was already there, and tugged him down. "Stroke your own cock like you've watched me do so many times," he murred, "and enjoy. Now, I am your master. You do as I say - as I tell you, and you enjoy it."

Gahkan moved back off of Bhrutei's cock and tugged below his knot a few times. "I live to please. What you want is what I want."

"I want to fuck you until you moan out and feel for yourself the unparalleled rapture that sex and pleasure really are."

"Then," said Gahkan as he stood and placed a hand in the middle of his master's chest, "I want you to fuck me."

Bhrutei pushed his dragon to the wall, and pinned him there, positioning himself beneath his tail. Gahkan's thong laid around one of his feet; he kicked it to the side. "One day I'll fill you completely with my cum, and you won't be able to take one step without moaning."

"I eagerly await that day." Gahkan braced his arms against the wall and spread his legs, head turned and tail raised. "Use me, Bhrutei - master. Every part of me is as much yours as it is mine. I am yours for the taking - for the fucking - for the filling. Use me."

Bhrutei placed one paw on Gahkan's shoulder and the other on his hip, and leaned in close to his face. "You bet I'll use you. When I'm done with you, you'll be coming back for more like a starving pup at a buffet... now, brace yourself, this may hurt." He pushed up.

Gahkan swallowed a gasp and gritted his teeth as the worgen's thick tip entered him; he released that gasp in a long and shuddering sigh, and his fingers splayed out over the wall face scratched into the stone. "Fuck," he drawled, "master, that... that -"

"Relax. You're clenching so much I can't move, and you're already the tightest thing I've managed to shove myself into." Bhrutei slid in another half-inch and pulled another gasp from his dragon's throat. "It'll feel better in time. You'll love it."

"Why don't -" Gahkan groaned; his cock throbbed. "- why don't I do this t-to you?"

"That wouldn't do." Bhrutei reached an arm around his dragon's head and clamped his paw around his mouth. "Now," he growled, with another push, "quiet. I've got a foot of two-and-a-half-inch thick cock to slide inside you, and we won't get anywhere at this pace. Now, relax, slut - just relax.."

The pain was extraordinary. Gahkan squeezed his eyes shut and yelped into the paw around his mouth, all while cutting gashes in the wall with his own claws. However, beneath the searing bite of being ripped apart, the feeling of that thick cock entering and filling his emptiness evoked a different feeling, one he had never felt before. The more he focused on it, the more the pain faded from something bright and hot to a pain that he wanted more of, something that served as a delicious complement to that center feeling that now filled his head and all his limbs... was this that 'rapture' his master had spoken about? He groaned as the swell along Bhrutei's shaft pushed into him, growing and then diminishing. Ecstasy, perhaps? it was wonderful, it was amazing, it was delicious and intoxicating and mesmerizing and oh God he wanted more.

"You finally relaxed." Bhrutei removed his paw and returned it to his dragon's hip where it was before. His knot pressed up against the rim of Gahkan's tailhole, another two full inches for later.

"Fuck me," Gahkan moaned through still-clenched teeth. "Fuck me hard, master. Use me for your desires. Please, fill me up, make me whine."

Bhrutei smiled and gave another push; Gahkan moaned. "You're drunk on arousal. Pain becomes pleasure, and pleasure becomes something better, something indescribable. What are you?"

"Yours."

"My what?"

"Your toy."

"What else?"

"Slut. Whore. Something to be filled with your meat and cum, and nothing more."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Fuck me."

"What?"

"Fuck me!"

Bhrutei tugged back and slid out until just his tip remained in the dragon. "I've waited so long to hear you beg like that," he purred in a silken rumble. "'More', you've said. More, more, more. I'll fuck you raw. I'll fuck you so hard you won't be able to sit down or think straight for a week."

"You'll be sore for days after how hard I make you cum." Gahkan licked his lips again and pushed back against the worgen's meat.

Bhrutei slid back in, and his sack slapped forward - Gahkan's resulting gasp echoed out in the still air of the den. With this he began a slow rhythm, and slid his paw from the dragon's hip to his cock - instantly that paw was pushed in to in contrast to the rhythm with which the worgen moved. He could feel all of Gahkan's clenches around his cock and all his throbs in his paw, and the dragon's sighs, moans, gasps, and all else reverberated in his chest and through the air.

The tight latex moved and slid over his length, stretching and widening accordingly - it retained the heat of his cock and became slickened with his musk and pre, and he upped the speed of his thrusts with a murr rumbling in his throat. Gahkan braced against the wall and breathed out a soft moan every time Bhrutei slid back into him; his eyes were still closed, and he bit down on his lip with one fang. Every once in a while a tight "fuck..." or "oh God" would work its way through his clenched teeth, and he still humped Bhrutei's tightened paw with a rhythm opposite to that with which he was being fucked.

And, that rhythm was still steadily increasing, both in speed and force; jets of slimy, musky pre shot out of Bhrutei's tip one after another and splattered against Gahkan's inside walls, dripping down and contorting the light that passed through them. Bhrutei's periodic growled moans fogged up spots on the dragon's skin; he bucked forward and slammed his knot against the dragon's tight hole with each burst of pre; his tail flicked and swung, and his ears flattened against his head - and he was lost in the sex.

He forgot it was night outside. He forgot his empty goblet was still resting upside-down on the table. He forgot he was in a cave, forgot he had planned to hold back, forgot everything that was to him pushing into and pulling out of Gahkan, his cumslave, his living toy engineered to feel sexual pleasure twenty times more powerful than any mortal-born soul. As it had with all his other sex partners, from those who had drooled upon first sight of his unclothes body to the victims he had chased down and raped (which they brought upon themselves for trespassing in his - his! - territory), the rest of the world became insignificant and unimportant, just a silly distraction from this part of life that meant so much more. How could anyone ever want anything other than this?

Gahkan panted and moaned, and he pushed back against his master each time the latter thrusted again into him. He wrapped his tail around Bhrutei's body and tightened it, pulling him closer, closer, deeper, deeper - the dragon bent his head down and pressed the top of his skull to the wall, breathing in gasp after gasp and breathing out moans and pants. His master's thick meat stretching him wide and reaching deep into his body was first painful, now deliciously pleasurable in a way that drugged his mind and made him want more. He moved and bounced with the worgen's raucous thrusts, and moved a hand down from the wall to close it around Bhrutei's on his cock to stroke himself faster, harder, still more, more, more...

Bhrutei felt absolutely amazing. He threw his head back and let his mouth hang open, his panting making him sound like an everyday horndog pawing off in a back-alley of some city. He pistoned his hips forward and back and fucked his dragon, his toy, with uninhibited urgency and powerful lust for release. He gritted his teeth, arched his back, pushed in and pulled out with deep thrusts of his hips -

• and Gahkan gasped out each time Bhrutei pulled completely out of him and then slammed back in, each time working his knot in a tenth of an inch further, each time stretching him just a bit wider and plunging just a bit deeper into him. He moved the worgen's tightly clenched paw along his entire length over and over with enough speed to make his arm ache and scream for rest - but he ignored that. He was so, so close to the thing Bhrutei called release, and could feel the worgen approaching climax as well based on his moans and sighs, his urgent thrusts, the spurts of pre inside him, the throbbing and twitching of his cock. Almost, almost, so, so close -

Bhrutei snarled and slammed in one last time, forcing his knot in and emptying what seemed like pint after pint of hot cum into the latex dragon, who jerked against him as each sticky rope spurted out into his body. Their breaths each came in raucous, shuddering gasps, and each time one of them moved, Bhrutei would groan from the tug on his spent cock.

"Oh, master..." Gahkan smiled sleepily and licked his lips, still panting and shaking. "Does it always feel as good as that?"

"At least." Bhrutei stroked his dragon's sides with two big paws. "It feels a little bit better each time though..."

Gahkan released another moan and glanced down - he could both see and feel the hot, thick cu drip down the inside of his body... "I'm ready when you are."