FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

His day started off like any other person's would, coffee, a single egg between two slices of white bread with pepper jack cheese and a slice of Canadian bacon. He topped it off with a banana and a tall glass of milk. During the day he had a job just like everyone else did but it was boring and nonsensical. The drone of talk, the cries of buy and sell, everything about the job was just barely tolerable. The days always dragged on like a beat up old nag trying to carry a cart full of fat tourists attempting to make some sort of novelty about riding a horse-drawn carriage through New York. Disgusting, all of it, no perfection no striving for what their basic instincts craved.

So the day continued to slow down exponentially until finally the end of his shift. He walked through the crowded streets of people meshed together like a writhing hive of filth and putrescence. Each of them from the soft-furred pampered rich kids to the rough neighborhood brats that thought they were better. His walk home was just as slow and daunting as the walk in to work and the day itself.

Reaching the entrance to his building he stepped onto the plush carpet on the steps and nodded his head to the doorman. The doorman was an older gentleman that was as down to earth as he had ever met, a real man of his own salt. What the hell does that saying mean anyway? It didn't matter. Taking the offered open doorway he stepped into the lobby. Elegance, decadence, overindulgence, all of it unnecessary but he figured since he owned the condo up stairs he was just as guilty as the rest of them. Between the soft furniture of the lobby, the bar off to the side with the cushioned stools and expensive alcohol, and the vases full of rare exotic flowers he thought it was all just a waste of time, space and effort.

The elevator was no less effete. It was faux gold-plated and shined to perfection. He felt sick just thinking of the poor soul that had to polish the hand rails every day after a plethora of visitors put their dirty, grubby hands all over them.

After the long ride to the top he exited the elevator into a hallway with burgundy carpet and mauve walls. He could choke the decorator given the chance. The swirling endless pattern on the carpet was perfect with the lack of contrast on the walls and down to the last statue and display at each turn and corner it was all just too much. His own apartment door was a dark color, possibly cherry but he wasn't sure. The electronic key they had given him was top of the line security, the doorknob was more an afterthought or a classic novelty because the door would unlock and open just from his proximity with the device on him. Technology was so overcompensating.

Stepping inside he once again viewed the large open area that was his foyer and living room beyond. From the gray carpet to the black leather furniture and the modern art with its sharp corners and deft turns it was all the same. Every bit of it a waste but the place had come like he saw it now. He picked it over the others because it wasn't as gaudy and loud as the other places they had offered him. He pitched his key and the rest of his pocket-riders out onto the table and headed directly for the bedroom. It was Friday, start of the weekend and his time to indulge a bit. They all deserved it anyway.

Taking off the suit and tie was no easy matter, it took him quite some time to get dressed and undressed while he was wearing his work clothes. Once the items he had grossly overpaid for were off his body and on their respective hangers ready to be dry cleaned he removed his weekend clothes from their normal place. He wore dark blue jeans and a dark shirt with sleeves all the way down to his wrists. Over that he wore a long jacket though it wasn't cold it was more to cover the shirt itself. His shoes were white sneakers, very nondescript. To top it off he grabbed a pair of hand-concealing black gloves, a hat, and sunglasses.

The weekend was his time; he could shine and do what he wanted to without any interference. Putting his accessories in a backpack he slung it over his shoulder and gathered his pocket-items into a small pouch he kept around his lower leg just so he didn't lose anything. With everything in place he could leave. The door, already unlocked was no obstacle but exiting always was. He found it exhilarating to sneak around the back ways of the large apartment building and creep out of the rear employee's exit without being seen. It helped that no one knew he was gone. Having already mapped out a little-used route he never ran into trouble. Exiting the building through his normal route he pulled out a key he kept around his neck on a strong chain. Once the final door was unlocked he closed it and locked it back before looking around the alleyway and departing.

He began by walking in what seemed to be aimless circles, nodding to the bums and other alley-goers as he passed them. He had taken the hat and sun glasses out of his pack and put them on, it was hard to recognize him from his normal self when he had on a hat and glasses. He was almost like a whole new person.

The second phase of his plan once he was done walking the trash-strewn and backed up alleys was to head toward his goal. He had found a new place to hang out recently, it was a bar on the far side of town. Quite a walk but he didn't mind it kept him in shape. Each turn was as familiar to him as his own childhood home was. As 'great' as that was. His mother, the beautiful but uncaring alcoholic with a penchant for fucking anything with a penis and his father the workaholic foreman that liked to dip into cocaine a bit more than was healthy, if indeed any amount was healthy.

Those thoughts brought him back to the first time he had ever experienced anything sexual. His mother had shown him exactly what the difference between boys and girls was by forcing him to have oral sex with her and then in return forcing oral sex on him. He remembered being so confused night after night then finally after years of abuse and forced intercourse he took care of the problem once and for all.

Dirty, all of them dirty and each and every one of them were not worth the earth they walked on. With their alcohol, designer clothes, toy poodles, and all the rich foods they hated but ate just to fit in with the rest. Women with their wicked thoughts, they were all sex-crazed lunatics waiting to prey on someone.

"I can help you." He breathed out excitedly, he was surprised by his own voice, it had been so long since he had said anything to anyone let alone talked to himself. "Quiet, you don't want to give us away."

"I'm sorry."

The conversation ended there as his quarry came into view. It was a small hole-in-the wall dive that served watered down beer off the tap and stale pretzels. The staff was friendly for the most part but the crowd was just unruly, he usually didn't like places like this but she worked there, and he liked her. Slipping inside the bar he took a corner seat that was close to the door and the bar itself. The bar, called 'The Dive', was also a pseudo restaurant with a stage. The usual acts were terrible. His eyes drank in the whole scene again, indeed for the twenty-fourth time in so many weeks. The tables were all old and abused but wooden and sturdy along with the chairs. Most of them had been refurbished but some had almost no seating on them at all.

The small steins they served the awful swill they called 'beer' in were borderline dirty. It was an affront just to touch them most times. Loud bright neon signs and mirrors bearing the symbols and mascots of various alcohol manufacturers littered the walls like refuse on a city street. Everywhere were leering faces of characters and fifty thousand different fonts to write beverage names in.

The bar where she picked up the drinks was just as old; he was convinced that it had come over on the ark itself when it had landed. Between the scratches and chips and a really shoddy refinishing job it was worse than the rest of the bar. Behind the bar, of course, was where the magic happened for inebriated patrons. Every type of drink you could think of the ruggedly handsome bartender could mix. He was a fur of course; this side of town had loads of them. His salt and pepper fur and young, chiseled body drew many an eye both male and female but that wasn't his target, he didn't do males. "More often than not."

"Say what hun?" He hadn't seen her walk up and he was so engrossed with looking around she had surprised him. It was all he could do to keep from lashing out at her but he kept himself in check. She was beautiful, soft white fur and deep golden eyes, a rare combination for a vixen. Her hair had just a slight hint of blond in it, he knew it was natural. Her curvaceous body was tempting him, he wanted to look her up and down and inspect every inch of that wonderful body but he just couldn't do it right now, that would invite suspicion. Her face was equally as lovely and he kept her eyes though his were hidden behind glasses, she had a pert little muzzle and she smiled more often than not.

"I'm kind of hot." His voice, once again foreign to him was just a little deeper than he usually used in most scenarios; if indeed he talked at all. "How about something cold to wet my whistle? What's the bartender's specialty?"

"Honestly I don't know if he does anything special to tell you the truth but he makes a decent bare navel." He chuckled a little at her light humor, it felt good to laugh a bit but inwardly he chastised himself. It wasn't a good thing to get them too familiar. "I'll get you one."

"Much obliged." Aside from sounding like an oft-used and abused line from a cowboy entering a saloon he liked the word obliged. It sounded powerful and compelling. His drink came back and not being able to help himself he watched her walk away a lot longer than he should have. The shake of her ass was just too delectable, the sway of her tail accordantly complimentary. She was wearing a black tank top and cut-off jean shorts that almost teased a view but at the same time didn't. She was a bit of a tease but still undecided.

Time passed slowly with each sip and he watched the place fill to the brim with people, each one different from the last straggler to stumble in and pay tribute for a requiem from the outside world. That's what he thought of alcohol though he drank it from time to time, a dirge, a threnody, a lament used to cover the noise of life with something a little less harsh in tone. Minutes passed like hours and hours like small pieces of eternity. His mind raced though his outside body gave no appearance to his apprehension, his excitement.

At one point an offending patron put his hand on her ass and tried to slip his fingers into the leg of her shorts. His fingers ended up being bent past their proper fulcrum and of course that was followed by a howl of pain and a few choice words. Though he had chosen her he longed to come to her defense, she seemed like such a nice girl.

"Soft, gaumless, gormless, foolish, and ignorant. You know how women are." His voice, now soft but sly and snide made him stop his foolish thought before it finished.

"I'm sorry, she's just so pretty."

"Yes, in a rudimentary fashion I suppose. Don't lose sight of the prey dear boy." The voice faded from his lips as quickly as they had come.

With the passing of the time came more attempts at her 'favors' but all of them were rebuked and sent packing. More than once she had to administer her own form of crowd control and though it was more basic than most students of any martial art it was clear that she had at least taken a few lessons. Likely she had taken them from someone not-so-skilled themselves. The black belt he had earned had not been without blood, sweat, and tears. More everyone else's than his own but not to say he didn't suffer for his art. Each passing second ticked off in his mind audibly as if he had a pair of synchronized clocks in his ears just mocking him and waiting.

His glass was half empty and though he didn't like warm alcohol it was a necessary indulgence. The optimist felt the glass half full, pessimist half empty. To the engineer the glass was half as much too big for the volume of liquid within. The narcissist however felt they were better than the glass for having bested it half way. They always go back for more. He made a face at the stiff taste of the stale ingredients of the drink and choked back another two swallows while his eyes silently stalked her around the room.

Each table she stopped at she commanded the attention of each person there. Everyone knew her, it was true. Her name was Shalyndria, a very odd name for anyone but it seemed to fit her. It seemed as though that name would fit better in a story involving a fairy princess in some epic story about short mystical humanoids and their tall, long-eared allies marching impossible distances to complete an impossible goal. Those stories almost always worked out well, he wondered how her story would work out in the end.

The attention of each individual at said table was restored to the flat drinks or equally planar conversations that each table indulged itself in. Pats on the back, recounts of work, friends reunited for a drink, or just the random passerby with a taste for bad alcohol, bad music, and loud atmospheres. Though, in his opinion, the bar was mildly pleasant.

His eyes could do naught but wander across the various patrons and judge. Fat, balding, overworked, and underpaid. A tall man with a flannel shirt and a white t-shirt underneath, his shiny pate was crowned by thick stubble that signified he needed to shave his head again. To compensate for his hair loss he had a bushy goatee and mustache that some called a 'Vandyke'. Though he wasn't sure why they called it that, most likely something about some famous person that revolutionized the facial hair scene with a revolutionary look. Sarcasm was rampant in his world. The man's round face and large, calloused hands matched him well. His blue jeans like the rest of him were dirty from a long day's work. He could respect a man like that, someone that worked hard to earn their keep. He watched the distant figure nurse a single drink while his co-workers downed mug after mug of whatever swill they felt they needed to drown their sorrows in. He was drinking something non-alcoholic, apparently the responsible party that was the designated driver.

The man next to him had an almost equally bald head with a long pony tail in the back. He almost had what the Internet had referred to, humorously, as a 'skullet' which would be the bald form of the mullet that some people in the south favored. His lips twisted into a half smile as he paged through the ignorantly funny multi-slide presentation he had received in his email. It was one of the few things that touched to his humor. The skullet was topped off with a pair of wide-rimmed sun glasses and a black t-shirt with a pair of cargo pants that still housed a few tools. The man obviously had left a tape measure in one pocket from the squareish shape he saw. He wondered idly if the man would forget it in his pants when he went to work tomorrow.

The skullet man was sitting next to a stick-figure of a man wearing glasses and sporting a comb-over that was laughable. This man was the dork of the group, the mathematics and archetecural nerd that designed the building, and the facility they were working on. With every sip he wiped the lip of the mug before putting it to his mouth. The man was obviously obsessive compulsive from the folded sterile nature of his demeanor and the crisp fold-lines of his clothing. He looked positively beside himself because he was sitting in such a sordid establishment. "Fool."

Time moved on and eventually the crowds began to thin and the people began to change. He had come here enough to know that tonight was the night she worked, it was the night that she would close up and take care of the trash after the bartender had gotten rid of the straggling lowlifes that refused to leave and begged for 'just one more' before the road. He excused himself quietly and left a generous tip under the glass he had been nursing just before the place began to close and with a large crowd of people. He timed his walk by counting the steps. It would take him exactly two-hundred and thirty two steps for her to finish cleaning and walk out back to dump the trash. She left the door open some nights more because of forgetfulness than anything else. Within his backpack he rummaged as he walked and counted.

At step two hundred he found himself standing outside the door. The back door to the bar and with little effort he slipped behind the dumpster careful not to touch anything. His black gloves were covering his hands and he had carefully worn down the soles of his shoes to nothing and purposefully whittled them down a size with exact precision so they looked like a different type of shoe. His long jacket and pants left few fibers or leftovers to be tracked. He had carefully scrubbed his skin and pulled at his eyebrows, lashes, and hair so no stray pieces fell. This was it; he had a few seconds more so he poured a clear liquid onto a black rag and took a soft sniff. It was his creation, a product of years of experimentation and failures.

When the door swung open and she stepped out carrying a load he froze and waited for her to finish. She dumped one load and then the other and turned around. He could tell by the sound of her feet scraping against the asphalt as she pivoted. He had listened to that sound with rapt attention for weeks. She took two steps from the bin before he stood up and walked up behind her casually. His hand stretched out and he could see that he was shaking; he could feel the thrill and rush of adrenaline that he knew she would feel seconds from now. His clothed hand cupped around her muzzle and he grabbed her arm pulling it upward to disable her. She struggled just like he knew she would and with a deft move of his knee and a twist of her arm he stopped her feeble attempts at fighting back. It took mere seconds for the drug to overcome her and her weight became as a sack of meat.

He took her belongings from just inside the door and locked the door itself with her own hand before pushing it closed again with her limp fingers. He lifted her up onto his shoulders and dropped a 'lint-free' cloth down on the ground to mop up any traces of her fur that might have fallen. After doing that he packed all of the items, including her stuff, into his backpack and strung it across her back then loaded her onto his back as if he was giving her a piggyback ride. Her head slumped down onto his shoulder and for a moment he could smell her scent and almost tasted her lips. He groaned and started walking toward his apartment with slow deliberate movements. He knew the spots the bums would frequent so he stumbled and laughed while singing an Irish drinking song about a pretty lass. Some joined in and some just nodded or smiled in recognition of someone carrying a comrade home.

One beggar, feeling brave in the face of a drunken man hand his pretty drunken baggage stood up and moved toward him as if to accost him. He could speculate as to what the man wanted but instead he planted a foot firmly into the man's gut faster than he could gain his own drunken feet and pressed on singing and stumbling the whole time. No other incidents occurred and when he began the final approach to his building he peered around the corner and smiled wickedly. Not a soul to be seen.

The final approach, the last hurdle, and indeed also the final lap loomed before him so he sprinted toward the entrance. Quickly, quietly he swung her down and put her over his shoulder while he fished out the key and unlocked the door. Once inside and the door was locked he once again put her on his back and began the long walk up several flights of stairs. He worked out for this reason, every day, never failing. Slipping inside and up through the dusty passageways of the maintenance stairwells was easy. It was the weekend and no one used these passageways often. The long walk upward with her on his back was a piece of cake. However the hallway could be fairly active at this time.

A quick look revealed one couple, the mercers, heading for their apartment. Stepping into the hallway was difficult for him but the plush carpet masked the hurried footsteps of his run. He ran past closed doorways without thinking and even one that was just barely opening. That one gave him pause so he ran around a nearby corner and ducked into one of the bench-laden nooks filled with cheap art and fake flowers that were dusted on a semi-daily basis. He listened to one person muttering obscenities about his wife being insensitive to his needs as he stormed down the hallway on the other side. Quickly he resumed his run and came around the corner just two doors away from his apartment. The door was open and ajar when he got there thankfully so he hurried inside and closed it behind him. Locking it was simple.

He'd done it, the prize was his. The treasure had been unearthed and retrieved. Heading directly for the bedroom he laid her down gently and stopped to catch his breath. He rid her of his backpack and of any other items she had in her pockets, which were few. Once he had caught his breath sufficiently he walked over to the wall where he had installed, on his own, a thin but strong chain and manacle. The inside was padded, he didn't want to hurt her, he just wanted to own her and once he slid the metal around her ankle and locked it tight he knew he did own her.

For long time he stood and watched the rise and fall of her chest as she slept peacefully on the soft sheets. The expensive bed set seemed pale in comparison to her; nothing could match her raw perfection. Every curve and dip of her body was like art in the flesh, or fur in this case. It was almost perfect when her eyes began to stir and she groggily blinked while attempting to take in her surroundings. Minutes more and she would have woken up on the walk home. He watched the recognition hit her eyes and she suddenly drew up and attempted to scamper back against the head of the bed. She looked around quickly and then back at him.

Not having taken in this particular bedroom much he looked around. It was mostly black with a bit of white here and there for contrast. The furniture was all black and the bed spread in turn was black as well with a thin white drape hanging lazily a few inches from the posts near the ceiling. The six-drawer dresser had come with the apartment like the other furniture and the closet was already full of clothing that he knew would fit her. He had guessed her size most likely perfectly.

"Oh my god you're the guy from the bar, the nice guy that didn't try to grab my ass or stare. What the hell is going on here?" Even scared, fraught with anger and some trepidation she was beautiful. Her eyes were shimmering like pools of emerald-colored water as she fought with tears. "Where are we?"

"We're home." He said simply, his voice soft and loving in contrast to the inner turmoil he felt. "Oh god, no I don't want to hurt her, don't make me. Please, I love her. She's so beautiful and so innocent."

"What? Who are you talking to?" She said in a frightened tone pulling herself tighter to the wall in an attempt to get away from him. He could see the fear emanating from her like heat from a blacktop on a summer day. It was powerful.

"Yes I want her but not like this." He took a step forward and looked at her pleadingly for a moment. He wanted her to rush into his arms and beg him to take her but he knew that wouldn't happen and the others were anxious to have her. Before he knew it he was by the bed and standing over her menacingly. "I'm sorry but, they have to have it."

"No, please." She hid her eyes in her hands and sobbed softly. He caught the kick she had thrown just as simply as a third baseman would catch a baseball headed right for his mitt. "No!"

"Don't resist, they'll want me to hurt you if you do." He said softly as he spread her legs wide open and put his body on top of hers. Her breasts, while not huge, were big and voluptuous to go along with her hips and the rest of her body. Her scent was intoxicating as he pushed her arms above her head and used one hand to pin her wrists down. She was strong for a slight girl but not so strong, it was easy for him to pin her down and use his body to keep her legs from doing any work on him.

Her sobbing became softer, quieter as he kissed her neck and face gently. Each kiss planted on her neck drove him further toward his goal and with his free hand he traced a line down her chest and exposed her breasts. The tank top was the kind that had a built-in bra so her b-cup spilled out of the shirt freely leaving her hard nipples out in the open. As his lips closed down on one of them he heard her whimper lightly, pitifully before becoming quiet again. His tongue flicked gently at that hard skin and he groaned in the back of his throat before kissing his way toward the other. The cleft of her breasts smelled slightly of sweat but more of perfume and he liked it that way. The smell of it caused him to growl gently and without pause he began unbuttoning her shorts and unzipping them soon after.

"NO!" She shouted again as she struggled against his body.

The squirming and pleading made his desire take new heights and as he slipped his fingers down into her shorts he laughed softly. She was wet, the front of her panties were soaked and it was all recent because the soft cotton was still warm. His fingers teased at her though the material for a moment, touching and rubbing gently before he pushed them aside and pushed a single finger against the opening of her vagina. "You're so wet it's almost embarrassing to me, how can you say no if you're so wet and willing?"

"I'm not willing; I don't want it, not this way. Please, I'm still a virgin. I don't want it this way." She begged him softly with her high-pitched but silky smooth voice. He almost pulled back in surprise at hearing that she was a virgin but he smiled at her face.

"I'm glad I could be your first, I love you. I've loved you since I first laid eyes on you." He leaned his head forward and kissed her muzzle gently using his tongue to pry her lips open. At the same time he pushed the tip of his finger into her opening and moved it gently back and forth. She was tight and she definitely wasn't lying to him. After the long and semi-consensual kiss he pulled the shorts and panties off of her legs without moving his hands from her wrists and rid himself of his jeans. He was already out of his boxers so he had no need for positioning himself.

Each second was torture for him as he lowered himself toward her and she begged for him to stop and not do it. Her sensual, beautiful body writhed and wiggled against him causing him to just want her more and as the head of his larger-than-average penis hit her lips she sucked in a breath and closed her eyes waiting for what was coming. The warmth of her velvety smooth insides greeted him with welcome and a squirt of her love juice. Each inch went inside slowly until finally she cried out and he felt the resistance inside of her give way.

He almost came right there from her tightness and the fact that she was veritably bucking against him. She cried out in pain as a bit of blood and clear fluid leaked out of her and down her thighs, he watched it, pleased. Minutes seemed to slip by as he finished pushing himself inside of her and without much resistance he finally buried himself to the hilt inside of her tight wet hole. She was crying out now and he couldn't tell if it was more pain or pleasure but he stood still for a moment so she could get used to his size.

With slow strokes he began to pull himself out of her and push himself back inside leaving some ease so he didn't hurt her much. He felt her muscles grasping at his cock and he used his free hand to pin each of her arms independently and give himself a better position to make love to her. Her body was hot and her insides were begging for more but she was biting her lip and trying not to cry out in pleasure from it all, she had obviously led a sheltered life before this. Her eyes were closed tight and her face held some semblance of pain but that soon began to melt away and her lips parted slightly. He heard a sigh of pleasure escape her, oh-so-soft and subtle and he smiled impishly.

She was getting in to it, she enjoyed it and she was his now. His hips worked slowly against her and he had to hold himself back to keep from fucking her like a wild animal and exploding there. Each thrust left her tight little hole begging to be fucked and with each pull back she groaned and fought against him. On a whim he let her arms go only to be surprised when she wrapped them around his neck along with her legs around his waist and curved her tail around his leg. Using his hips to push against her he lifted her up off the bed savoring the sound of the chain tinkling behind him. He put his hands under her bare ass and lifted her with ease then dropped her back down on his rock hard dick. She groaned at him and kissed him fiercely until he put her against a wall and began railing her hard and fast.

He watched her head go out to the side and she cried out while digging her nails into his back. With every lunge she came closer until finally she sprayed his boxers and legs with a torrent of thick, clear juices. Far from finished he swung her around and threw her onto the bed penetrating her from behind and pressing his hard-chiseled body against her back. She was hot for him and another grasp and cry signified she came, followed by another, and yet another. Each time she built to a crescendo, a chorus or symphony of lust lying on the bed before him. He could feel her ass lifting up to give him better access and he saw her tail swishing and her hands grasping the sheets hungrily. As suddenly as it began he felt a hot rush of viscous love honey splatter her insides and fill her to the brim. She sniffed slightly and moaned. "I can smell it; I can smell your love. It's been a while for you. Oh god fuck me again, I want it so bad."