FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The first sensation that returned to Marc was the sense of smell. Dingy, wet... rust. So pungent, it stabbed at his nostrils. His head was pounding. He had been in a low atmosphere setting before, with the breathable air causing confusion and headaches, but this was far worse. As his mind and body began to reboot, his long ears began to remember how to function. He heard footsteps, something being dragged, grumblings in some foreign tongue. His eyes, which he could only assume had been open the whole time, slowly faded in from the darkness. Metal grates and bulkheads passed by his muzzle. They blurred and left tracers, making his head pound even further as his already taxed mind was bombarded by the tasks it already had forgotten.

Marc wanted so hard to be able to pick himself up and figure out what was going on, but his body was already on the verge of shutting down again. It needed a hard reset. His horned head felt so heavy as he fought to raise it up enough to see where he was. His head twisted painfully as his neck muscles rebelled and gave way. He did manage to capture a glimpse of his predicament.

His reptilian body was being dragged by two, much shorter, muscular, felines. They were wearing a hodgepodge of gear, ranging from engineering tools, to tactical combat armor. None of which looked new, or even in good shape. Holes and missing pieces gave the impression that they were more of a space-faring tribe of scavengers.

They held Marc firm under the arms, but their shorter stature left his face hanging a few centimeters from dragging painfully on the dank platforms. Now dizzy as well as in pain, Marc desperately tried to reconcile these feline creatures to his memories. He knew who and what they were, but his thoughts were a jumbled mess. His conscious mind was firing with all pistons, but there was just no fuel in the tank.

The felines carrying him slowed to as stop, and abruptly dropped Marc. His face hit the metal floorboard with a thunk. Again, they spoke in their foreign tongue, but this time even Marc could tell there was now respect in their tone. His vision was already fading out again. With one eye open, he rolled his head slightly to see who they were speaking two.

A few meters in front of him stood another feline. This one, a female. Unlike the two carrying him, her clothes were much more refined. Almost regal. It was a suit of very fine fabric. It was very masculine clothes, but she wore it with a sense of purpose. With deep blues trimmed with red and purple, it was her uniform. She was even smaller than the males, but her presence made her seem infinitely larger and more dangerous. Her arms were crossed and her face bore an angry expression.

She yelled at the two men for a good two minutes, who in turn said nothing and took the verbal beating. Her attention then fell to Marc, and her fury changed targets. She strode up to him in her knee-high digitigraded boots. She said something to Marc that was quick, and incomprehensible. When his response was inadequate, she spit on his face. He flinched, but couldn't react any more than that.

It was then that he noticed the pin on the collar of her suit. It was a golden sword aimed skyward. It was a double edged broadsword with the top splitting and forming two scythe-like blade -- almost like a T. His mind finally found some basis to build his memories off of. His heart began to race as some of his memories began to race back.

The explosion. The Orita.

Terick...

And worst of all, he remembered what the pin represented. He was now a prisoner of a Tarsi ship. The female saw the change of expression on the drake and grew disgusted. The last thing Marc remembered before submitting to the darkness again was her boot striking him across his jaw.

---

When Marc awoke sometime later, his head was still pounding, though thankfully not nearly as much. He blinked a few times, trying to rewet his eyes so they could focus. Despite his best efforts, anything more than about a meter away was frustratingly out of focus. He did feel sluggish, though. In many respects, more than he was when he regained consciousness last time.

He was stretched out on his back in a shockingly white room, given his previous experience. Even though things were generally out of focus, he could make out the shape of much of the equipment around him. A monitor that blipped and beeped that had cables running from the base of the machine to his chest and neck. A rather thick tube running down his nostrils feeding him precious clean air, whose source must be under the platform he was resting on. Another monitor, this one silent, glowed and gave pictures of something. Marc's eyes followed the course of the wire leading from that machine and discovered they were embedded firmly under the scales of his wrist.

Almost immediately, he realized that he was without clothes. While not immediately a shameful fact, given his genitals were internal, it did make him feel rather vulnerable. It didn't help that the room had the same sting of cold that he had experienced while floating out in space.

The drake was in a medical ward of the ship. Marc figured he had some kind of drug in his system, which was the cause of his sluggish behavior... and possibly the reason the pounding in his head had all but ceased by this point. He was thankful, if even just for that.

He tried to move, but found he was well restrained at his wrist, ankles, tail and neck. They straps were thick and secure. It was clear that these had been used many times before, and likely for creatures greater than him, given that the table he was on was larger than biggest drake he had ever seen.

A door behind him, outside his field of view, opened with a mechanical whisper. Gentle boot steps made their way in, accompanied by the sound of a pen vigorously scribbling notes on paper.

"Ah, you're awake," a voice called.

Marc tried to turn his head, but found the restraints, in addition to his horns kept his head lodged firmly in place. He raised an eye ridge, trying to see who it was that just walked in. After a moment of torture of hearing the boots walking just outside his field of vision, and the incessent scribbling, the owner of the voice made himself known.

He was wearing a white lab coat, that seemed just slightly too small. There were indications that, while clean and sterile, had been used for a number of years. Faded stains, a few loose seams, frayed edges. Whether this was something he had been wearing for years, or if it was a hand-me-down from generations ago wasn't quite clear. What was clear, was that the tightened coat made apparent his muscular definition. While not bulky, the fabric definitely strained as he moved around.

He stood close to 1.5 meters tall. His golden-red fur covered all parts of him that were visable, which was limited to his face, hands and tail. Faint orange stripes lined his jaw, neck and tail, the fur under his chin was decidedly more blonde than the rest.

Finally, he put down the pen and paper.

"You are lucky to be alive, drake." He said, almost dismissively, "Had we not grabbed you when we did-- Do you you have any idea how hard it was to pry off that suit of yours? Fortunately, we cracked your tin can open before there was any... permanent damage."

Marc had to shake off some of the drowsiness that was sneaking back up on him.

"Who-- Who are you?" Marc asked, almost slurred.

The feline straightened himself up and spoke with dignity. "I am Seraph. I am the medical officer of the Morad'm."

"Morad'm?" Marc asked, prounouncing it slowy.

"Ah, the Morad'm is the ship you currently are residing in. She's a cruiser-class freighter, with some necessary modifications, of course." Came the reply. He seemed to lose himself for a moment, as he stepped over to one of the bulkheads, touching it fondly. "She's a good ship. Been through hell and back."

He seemed to pause for a moment, before snapping back to attention. "Ah. I digress. None of this really matters to you," Seraph continued, "You have one task you should concern youself with. Survival." He walked back to Marc's side and rested his palm gently on his stomach. The scales twitched uncomfortably. While the feline's palm was a welcome source of warmth, it's motivation remained ambiguous, leaving Marc on edge. To the best of his knowledge, he had never been touched by a furred creature this way.

"You will feel groggy and weak for a few days, so take things slow as much as you can. You won't be much good if you stand to fast, only to black out and knock your head on something." Seraph said, hiding the faintest chuckle.

Marc felt his cheek twitch. "Much good? What's going to happen to me?"

Seraph cocked his head to the side every so slightly. "That's one of the things we are about to find out. Now that you are conscious, it's my job to test what usefullness you'll have... if any." A wry grin grew on the feline's face as his paw began to slide down Marc's stomach.

Marc's stomach turned over. The fur tickling in scales and the warmth of the it's mass betrayed the feeling of dread that overtook him. He strained against the restraints, which creaked quietly.

"Fight all you want, it won't make a difference. You might as well try to enjoy it. And no. I'm not going to fuck you." He said coldly as his hand removed itself from Marc's belly. He closed his eyes and a quick wave of relief swept over the drake-- cut short by the sound of a glove snapping over the fur of Seraph's hand.

Marc's eyes snapped open with fear. Seraph looked at him, almost puzzled. "What? I'm not a barbarian. I take all necessary precautions. I'm a doctor. You can trust me." Despite the sincere tone, the words felt hollow to Marc.

The doc made no hesitations and placed the gloved hand firmly on the drake's crotch. Rubbing, prodding, feeling. "This part is just a formality. I have to check for disease." Seraph said, flatly. It didn't make Marc feel any less violated.

Seraph put on a bit of headgear with what looked like a flashlight, a magnifying glass, and some other instrumentations. He flipped on the light and used his thumbs to spread Marc's genital slit, peering into his sensitive regions.

Marc felt himself grow hot under his scales. He was growing more and more furious, but Seraph was right, there was nothing he could do to stop him.

Seraph's fingers continued to prod and search. Finally he slipped one digit inside his cloaca. That was the last straw.

"Get that out of me! Now!" He roared.

The doc ignored him, only prodding deeper. "Ah. Here we are." He mumbled to himself. A good portion of his hand was buried uncomfortably inside Marc's cloaca. Seraph's fingers found their mark, a small cluster of nerves and flesh. He gently rubbed and pressed the bundle.

A jolt ran down Marc's spine, catching him completely off guard. What the hell did he just do?

Marc's eyes shot down to between his legs, only to find that whatever Seraph had done had coaxed a growing erection out of him. "Wh-what the--?" Marc spat out.

"It amazes me how little your species knows about your own anatomy. Despite how sexually free you egg-layers are, you never seem to put all the pieces together." Seraph shot back, without even looking up. His entire attention was dedicated to the growing shaft of flesh in front of his face. He grinned widely and exclaimed. "You, boy... you will do just nicely."

Marc gritted his teeth and hissed, "That means you're done. Right!?" His blood was boiling and his veins were throbbing as hard as his cock was.

Seraph stopped for a moment and turned to face the drake, the light on the headgear blinding him. "Oh, not at all! In fact, I have much more things I need to test." He said, almost relishing in cry of frustration that emitted from the drake.

---

Some time had passed. Marc couldn't be sure how long. He felt weak. Violated. He had been dumped into a dark room that rank of rust, grease and living bodies. He lay face down on grimy steel-plated floor, naked. He body refused to cooperate.

He could hear the footsteps of his fellow captives moving in close. Their breathing loud and heavy. The air was thick and wet. They hovered over him for a moment. He felt something wet drip all over him. Marc couldn't tell if it was sweat or saliva, but like everything it was thick and hot. It rolled down his side in a thick bead.

A moment later, he felt an iron grip yank him backward. Suddenly the quiet breathing turned into yells and thunderous roars. Hands, claws, tails -- anything that could grab him -- pulled him in all different directions.

The small primitive part of Marc's brain fired to life. Despite being weak, his body twisted and contorted, prying himself free of those that sought to contain him. His tail whipped, driving off those in its path. He wasn't a warrior, and he wasn't a fighter, but the ferocity was enough. Mostly.

Something tossed him against a bulkhead, leaving a shallow dent. Marc fought to get to his feet. His arms hung limply at his sides, his energy spent. He fought hard to keep his tail from dragging on the floor, in attempt to show that he still had strength. He roared as much as he his lungs would allow.

The crowd grew quiet.

Did he do it? No. At the back of the crowd, a lumbering shadow began to force his way through the masses. It was a wall of muscle and razor sharp teeth.

"This one is mine. I'm going to make him my girl." It said in more of a growl than with words. The scratchy sound of its voice extinguished the fire in Marc. The rest of the inmates parted for this behemoth to approach.

The creature was a monstrous bipedal blue-gray shark with a white underbelly. Moisture collected on it's skin and glistened in the orange glow of the security lights. It was as tall as any drake, about 2.8 meters tall, but with four or five times the muscle mass. The muscles rippled as it neared. Marc could almost see the blood pumping through the veins of it's biceps and forearms. It's webbed fingers were tipped with long, black, razor sharp claws. It was wearing pant and combat boots -- it must have been a soldier... or at least killed one.

Marc knew this creature could literally tear him in two without trying. His desire to fight dwindled to nothing, and Marc could feel himself shrink to nothing once the mountain stood a mere meter from him.

All was silent. The only sound came from the panting of Marc as he struggled to maintain standing. He knew he had to do something, he would rather die than succumb to these animals. He fought to raise his arm to through a right hook. With all his energy, he let it fly, praying for a quick death.

Marc's fist landed squarely in the neck of the shark. Thap. It was like punching a banded cable. Pain shot down his wrist. The shark didn't even budge, let alone flinch. It's toothy mouth, just remained slightly open, and let out the faintest of sighs. And for the first time, Marc noticed the blood red eyes of his opponent.

The rest happened before Marc could register it. The shark grabbed him by the head and jaw and slammed him hard into the bulkhead, making the dent even bigger.

Marc's body went limp, but somehow he managed to stay just concsious. The shark held the drake's head against the bulkhead, and leaned in close as a loud tone played over loud speakers.

The majority of the attackers began to disperse, leaving only a few prisoners hanging in the shadows, waiting for scraps. The shark leaned in close, and with the same scratchy growl of a voice, he spoke into Marc's ear, "That's right. You're mine now. Mine." He turned to the onlookers, "You hear that!?" He yelled, "He's MINE!" Upon hearing it's voice tearing through the corridor, those that stuck around suddenly shrank into the darkness, and out of sight.

More than anything, Marc wished he had died out in space. Then all went black.

---

When Marc awoke next, he was laying on a makeshift bed. A tattered rag was his blanket, and insulation was his mattress. The blanket was thin, but kept him warm. It had a faint smell he couldn't place, but found it pleasant oddly reassuring.

He was in a large room, at least 50 meters square, illuminated by some kind of blue paneled lighting. In the center of the room was a pool of water, he couldn't tell how deep from his bed. This room seemed to be much more maintained than the other rooms on the ship, but still had the smell of rust on the walls and floor. The majority of the room was in shadows, but as far as Marc could tell, he was alone.

He felt a cold chill in his chest as the recent memories filled his mind. He lay perfectly still, afraid to check himself for injuries, or evidence of what foul act was bestowed on him while he was out.

He began to shiver in fear, as the need to know began to overwhelm him. Finally, he managed to start by letting his hands feel themselves, and move on from there. He let his hands check his body, his neck, his tail and legs... And finally when he had no place left to check, he checked his groin. His hands shook violently as he rubbed and probed his cloaca. He was relieved to find that no harm had come to him there. With just a hair more courage, he ventured further south. His fingertips gently touched his anus, which twitched satisfactorily for him. No pain. No blood. As far as he could tell, he was still intact.

Then the horror fell upon him. Did he wake up too soon? Was that creature going to come and rape him while he was still awake? Thoughts of escape snapped him to attention. He had to get out before it was too late. He sat up, and again eye the room. Marc threw off the rags. He started to stand and--

"I hope I didn't hurt you too bad." A voice echoed in the dark. Marc was so startled, he slipped on the wet metal floor and fell back into his bed. It was the same growl of a voice from earlier, but this time it was different. It clearly felt softer.

Marc's heart thumped loudly in his chest as he looked for the towering monstrosity. Eventually his eye caught a glint of the blade of the shark's tail in the light. Marc quickly scooted himself against the wall behind the bed. The monster made no move. Soon Marc's eyes began to adjust, now that he knew where and what he was looking at. He could make out the outline of the creature from before. He was sitting the darkest corner of the room, resting his massive forearms on his knees.

It was only then that realized why that corner was so dark. All the lighting in that part of the room had been smashed or torn out.

"Are you in any pain?" It asked, again with the same softness. When it became clear that Marc was either unable or unwilling to respond, the shadow shifted only slightly. "It's okay, you can talk. I'm not going to hurt you."

Marc felt like there was rock lodged in his throat. "Stay away from me." He squeaked.

"That's why I'm over here." It said. "Very few enjoy waking up to the sight of a couple dozen teeth anywhere near them."

"What are you going to do to me?" The words seem to come easier now.

"I don't know."

Marc felt a defiant nerve well up within him. "I'm not going to let you rape me. Not without a fight."

The monster seemed to shrink a little. It's tail pulled into the darkness. "I'm not going to."

Marc became suddenly aware of the situation. The shark had plenty of time to abuse him. Instead it gave Marc a bed and blanket. His body felt surprisingly refreshed, and he wasn't hungry. This monster had taken care of him, nursed him back to health. Marc was the monster here, not the shadow in the corner.

"What's your name?" Marc said softly.

"I am Erok." The shadow said.

"I'm... I'm Marc."

The shadow gave a sloppy salute. " 'S a pleasure, Marc."

Marc managed to pry himself off the wall. "Were you in the military on your world?"

"You're correct. I was a combat medic before I joined the ranks here." Erok said.

There was a pause for a moment, on the far side of the room, a large drop of water fell from an overhead pipe into the pool. Ripples expanded and distorted the surface. Marc cocked his head to the side as a question when had been rattling subconsciously in his head for the last few minutes.

"How do you speak my language?" He asked, almost to himself.

"I don't." Erok said, shifting his position slightly. "You must have either tuned out, or blocked the memory of what that butcher did to you, to me -- to each and every prisoner on this ship."

Erok waited a moment until that sank in. "Each prisoner has been given subdermal implants with a tracking device, as well as a universal translator. That's connected to both your vocal chords, auditory canal... and your brain."

"That can't be!" Marc cried out. His hands quickly began to rub and check his hears and neck for any sign of what Erok spoke of.

"Don't bother looking. They're deep. There may be a small scar from the laparoscopy procedure, but unless the bastard botched the process, you'll never know you had it. Thanks to Enos that that doesn't happen very often."

"Enos?" Marc asked, gently.

"Enos is the god of my people." Said Erok, letting his voice fall low, "Though I don't know if I should be thanking him anymore. I can't say he's ever watched out for me."

Marc moved over to the pool. There wasn't a gutter around the pool, only a small grating for the water to spill over and be recirculated back into the pool. He kneeled and looked at his distorted reflection in the water.

"Can it be removed?"

Behind him, he heard Erok move and get to his feet.

"You can, but it's risky. Since it's attached to your brain, there's a lot of things that can go wrong. Plus they will just put in a new one once they realize what you have done."

Marc turned to the shark. "Why do they do it?"

"It's easier to control something if they know what you're saying." Said Erok, finally stepping out into the light.

He was there, the same behemoth as before, but somehow he was completely different. There was no rage in his body language, no threatening posture, even his muscles seemed calm. Erok's bloody eyes were the only thing that remained the same, even now they were terrifying.

Erok stood only a few meters away from the drake, but it felt like he was right on top of him. It was then that Marc realized that Erok was standing there completely naked. Marc at first felt slightly embarrassed, feeling heat beneath the scales of his face. Marc was naked himself. He automatically averted his eyes, but they already had their fill. The shark's abs could break the hardest nut, and below that lay a pair of long, slender claspers. He had never seen anything like them before, but instinctively knew what they were for.

The shark flicked his tail slightly, His wide lips parted just slightly, exposing the rows of razor sharp teeth hidden behind them. He let out a grunt. "I hope you're not bothered by flesh. I had to cannibalize my pants to make your blanket. You had mild shock by the time I brought you here."

Marc's scales felt white hot as he suddenly placed the smell that comforted him as he awoke.

Erok didn't notice.

"I'm sorry." Marc said with a start. "I'm sorry I hit you." He had no idea why he just apologized. It just came out.

For the first time he saw Erok smile, which Marc felt was rather unsettling. "No offense, Marc," he began, "but you hit like a girl. No, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I took you down rather hard." The shark placed an enormous hand on Marc's shoulder with a friendly pat. The impact threatened to drop Marc to the floor. Such raw power in this creature.

"But I did it for a reason." Erok continued, "This ship is very unforgiving, and life is cheap. The Tarsi may get a pretty coin for each slave sold, but they do not have the strength or finance to overhaul their ships into 'proper' slave transport. And given the nature of their business, there are virtually no ports to dry dock, and no facility to house the existing prisoners in. So they expect to lose a a certain... percentage."

"But... why did you save me?" Marc asked.

Erok didn't immediately respond. He only seemed to look off into the distance.

"Erok?"

"I'm sorry, Marc. I should sleep. While my species has evolved some amphibious traits, I can only sleep in water."

Marc caught the desire to change the subject, so he figured it best not to pry at the moment. "Is that why we are in this room?"

"Yes. It is one of the largest rooms on the ship, and designed specifically for my kind. When we sleep, we have to sleep swimming. A holdover from our primitive days. There are jets on the far side of the pool that make a nice current deep in the water, allowing us to swim stationary. This pool is big enough for many. There were a number of us here at first. But..." his voice trailed off.

"What should I do?" Marc asked to break the awkward moment as Erok approached the edge of the pool. His muscular frame shining in a bluish silver in the light. Marc caught himself drinking in the edges of his body, the dorsal fin, his tail and... unavoidably, the claspers. He already was finding he had a hard time keeping them out of his mind.

"Just try to get some more rest, if you can." He said, turn around so his back was to the pool. His tail ever so softly grazed Marc's. He could have sworn it was made out of silk.

Erok squatted, dipping one leg into the pool at a time. Marc would have been amazed at how the shark almost didn't disturb the surface of the water as he entered, were he not staring at the claspers, dangling as Erok squatted.

The shark lowered himself completely into the water, leaving only his head above the surface. The desire to keep the conversation going suddenly welled up in Marc.

"You said you wanted me to be your girl." The drake blurted out.

The red eyes just stared at him for a moment. Puzzled.

"I-- I just wanted to know what you meant by that." Marc said, trying to recover.

"I'm pretty sure you know what it was supposed to mean. But don't worry, I just said that for effect."

Marc felt a little flustered. "I... I know that, now. But," He struggled with what to say, "what if I was a girl?"

Marc immediately regretted the words he chose. Why? Of all the things you could have said, why that?

Erok seemed to think about it for a second, before turning to the center of the pool. He pushed off from the wall and hovered. His tail swayed gently under the surface, keeping him still with almost no effort.

"Hard to say, really." Erok said, his voice echoing off the water. "With a woman, it would have been just words. My flavor tends to run with the more... masculine, so she wouldn't have to worry about my advances. However," He paused. The expression changed ever so slightly. The powerful head and muscles seemed to grow weak, for just a moment. "I doubt that the news of my preferences reassuring. Please, rest assured, I will keep my distance."

Without another word, and before Marc could say anything, the shark submerged. Marc would not have been able to say anything regardless. He was too dumbstruck at the turn of events. All he could do was stand at the edge of the pool and watch the predator find a spot under the surface. The behemoth seemed to transform, His muscles seemed to disappear as his body took it's natural posture, a streamlined form, gliding through the water. The drake saw the shark's eyes glaze over to black, and watched as Erok's body began to undulate in a very repetitive way through the crystal clear water.

Marc must have stood there for ten minutes, just watching Erok sleep. It was mesmerizing. Finally he broke off and walked back to his makeshift bed, still trying to process what just happened. He seemed to move on autopilot as he crawled back into bed.

Marc was surprised to find sleep coming to him quickly. He covered himself with Erok's makeshift blanket. The drake closed his eyes, and as he let the darkness take him in, found himself holding the sheet close to his muzzle, taking in the smell once again. It filled him with a certain contentment and the last thing he remembered before sleep whisked him away was the thought that perhaps, Erok won't keep his distance.