FSE

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Tuck hummed to himself as he skipped down the street. That had been a good time, he'd have to keep an eye out for… actually, he didn't catch his name. No matter, the big-dicked sailor was good and hooked on scav-flesh now, and the way he made a bee-line for the cathouses suggested he'd been to Val Salia before, and would be again.

Tuck grinned.

Now that the ice had been broken, perhaps next time the sailor would spend his coin on a room for one and they could wile away the night on a nice soft bed. It wouldn't be the first time he'd left a nice sticky wet-spot on a set of cotton sheets, and wouldn't be the last. His heart began to flutter as he recalled all the nights he'd spent in fancy rooms, wrapped in warm, fresh-smelling linens, bathing in copper tubs overflowing with hot water and soap bubbles, plied with buckets of clams and wine. Not that he needed plying.

Clean sheets were nice, but making them filthy was much more fun.

Hot water had its charm, but a hot, sweaty, muscular body heaving atop him was better.

Clams and oysters and wine were… well, great. He loved the heady rush and mild delirium he got from scarfing fistfuls of the slimy meat, and the wine helped to make wonderfully bad decisions. Like the time he took some regulars up on an offer of a night of fun… all four of them. All at once. Even he was walking funny after that one.

His heart began to pound at the recollection, his ears warm and flush with hot blood. Big hands all over him. Hard, muscular bodies pressing down on him, crushing him into a mattress, onto the floor, against the wall, against the other, hard, muscular belly as they had their way with him. And their way they did have, repeatedly. Giving him all they could, as many at once as possible, and he took it. He wanted it, to be filled in every hole he had and used and made to–

Oh no.

A Boner.

Oh NO!

Tuck looked down at the shiny red tip of his cock as it began to poke out, twitching with his heartbeat. Tuck pulled his vest over his belly, covering the insistent organ. He glanced around to the crowded street, his keen eyes searching the crowd for amenable features or, hopefully, a blue reed, the silent signal of a scav-chaser. No such luck, all the men here were on business, locals with wives and such who couldn't afford to be seen getting prepositioned by a scav. Not that any of those things ever stopped Tuck before, simply that there would have to be a tedious preamble and persuasion on his part and–

His keen eyes landed a rather rugged man, a smith from the look of his hard, chorded arms, thew shoulders and bullish neck. He was standing at a charcoal merchant's stand, settling an order, when the merchant turn her back, the smith adroitly adjusted himself, shifting a mass that reached well down onto his leg.

Although, the Human Catcher considered the pursuit of prey almost as satisfying as catching…

He shook his head. No! He wasn't just out on the town hunting for dick. He had a job to do.

Tuck reached into his pocket and pulled out the list, at the top was the word 'baker re: figs'.

Perfect.

The Baker was a peculiar man, short, jolly, and fat in that way bakers tend to be, definitely not Tuck's type. Just as well, as the man also an utter bottom. If he was a yinglet, he'd be be the fanciest lad, with silver bells and blue clothes and a veritable feather-duster on his tail. Tuck always found himself somewhat perplexed by human gays, or rather the fact that a people with no hygienic way of buggery would even bugger at all, to say nothing of their abundance of females. He supposed he shouldn't judge, given that there were both humans and yinglets who would find his nigh-weaponized skills of seduction and choice of targets deviant. He supposed he should feel a little bad for them, sodomy just seemed like an awful lot of work, all the cleaning and prepping and what-not.

“Figs?" The Baker said. “As in as a garnish, or…"

“Garnish, paste, syrup, everyzhing," Tuck clarified. “One of zhe dinner guests is fussy and detests dates. So zhe order is to be changed to include figs instead."

“Oh, well, I'm glad you brought this to my attention now, I was just about to prep the batter." The Baker said, gesturing to the well-floured work-station. “I'll get right to work. Thank you, Tuck."

Tuck bowed and the Baker called to the back area of the bakery. “Orry! How're those buns coming along?"

Orry, the Baker's apprentice, strode out from behind the curtain, flour coating his hands and forearms. He was young for a human, perhaps twenty, and pretty in that way young men are. His brown eyes immediately darted over to Tuck, widening as his mouth hung open. Tuck simpered and waved to him, his flirting innocent and scav-like save for the predatory confidence in his pink eyes.

“Uh…" Orry remembered himself, tearing his eyes away from the yinglet and to his mentor. “Just ready to put in the oven. These are the glazed ones, right?"

“That's right," the Baker said, seemingly oblivious of the cause of Orry's trepidation. “Oh, and I'll be needing the fig syrup, the fig paste, and a bushel of fresh figs for this order. Could you check the larder and see if we have enough?"

“Uh…" Orry said, a flush forming in his cheeks. “Yeah. I'm pretty sure we have the syrup and the paste, but I'll check for the fresh ones."

“Very good."

They had enough, but only just, Orry would have to drop by the farmer's market later that day. The robust baker's apprentice grunted as he hoisted the large tray into the brick oven. This newest addition to the bakery could bake two dozen full-loaves at once, or, in this case, six dozen buns. While it cut down on the overall workload, the trays were solid bronze. Between them and and the dough, he was hoisting and maneuvering at least a hundred pounds. After a solid few hours of kneading the flour and water into dough, his forearms were burning as he hefted the last tray into the oven.

“Hello hello, Orry~" A high-pitched voice crooned.

“Oh no…" Orry said as he turned around to see a fancy little yinglet sitting on the windowsill. “Please, Tuck, you can't be here."

“Oh?" Tuck cocked his head to the side, the look of confusion on his face almost genuine were it not for the glint in his eyes, a predator playing with its food. “But Tuck is here at zhe behest of his master. Zhe cakes and such must be just so. Oh yes, just so."

“I mean back here!" Orry hissed, careful not to alert his mentor. “If the people saw a scav back here…"

“Oh, well zhen," Tuck said, hopping down from the sill and strutting across the room, leaving paw prints in the flour-covered floor. “Better not be seen, oh no no no. If people saw little Tuck back here, zhey might wonder, oh yes. Might wonder what a yinglet is doing in a bakery? Yinglets cannot eat bread, it is known, yes? Zhey might zhink zhat a yinglet in a bakery is zhere for… somezhing else. Somezhing… meatier."

“Tuck…" Orry said, blushing and fidgeting. “I could lose my apprenticeship, my job…"

“And Orry's fiancé," said Tuck, standing in the doorway to the larder. “Why, what would zhe so pretty Miss Orry's Fiancé do if she finds out her man is a filzhy scav-chaser?"

Orry turned away from him. “Please… I'm not…"

“It's okay, Tuck understands," Tuck said, pressing himself against the doorjamb, pulling his vest back with a clawed finger. “For a human it is shameful. Lowering yourself to take a lowly scav as you would take a human woman, to violate zhe natural order to satiate your lusts. Shameful to be bedding your wife-to-be, to make sweet love to her, and all zhe while be zhinking of a scav. So shameful!"

“Tuck…" Orry growled, his strong hands balling into fists. “I'm warning you…"

“Oh, are you?" Tuck tittered, turning to face the baker, one hand tracing a particular area on his fuzzy belly. “Warn all you like. If you didn't want me here, if you didn't want me, you could just toss me out."

Orry's eyes widened as a slick, red cock slid out of the thicket of creamy, luxurious fur, the seam around the livid organ raised and glistening. He looked up into Tuck's big pink eyes, his slit-like pupil now wide and black and full of lust. The yinglet tittered and sauntered into the larder, Orry loosed a shuddering sigh and followed after, the door swinging shut behind him.

Orry latched the larder door and turned about, cheeks flushed as he panted. Tuck was splayed out on a large sack of flour, illuminated by the sun pouring in through the window shutters pulling his slit away from his cock. His fingers digging into his pocket, flesh red and glistening in the sunlight, begging to be filled.

“Well, Orry?" Tuck said, his voice husky and full of need. “Do you still want me to leave?"

Orry groaned and lurched forward, yanking down his trousers, his cock tenting his apron out in front of him. He threw aside the apron, careless with lust as he almost tripped on his pants as they fell to his ankles. He caught himself as he stumbled forward, strong, flour-caked dusted hands bracketing the little yinglet. Tuck giggled, his foot-hands grabbing the crazed human's hips, fingers digging into his taut buttocks. He reach down and grabbed his cock at the base, it was a good size, a little over six inches, but a little on the thin side. It was still twice as thick as his, and had a huge, bulbous head that was much thicker than the shaft, so thick the foreskin was stretched tight over it. It would have been weird, almost comical, were it not for the toe-curling orgasms the thing could produce.

“Orry has such a nice-nice cock, oh yes," he said, pulling the foreskin back slowly, deliberately. “Zhis is Tuck's favorite bit. It feels soooo gooood~"

Orry moaned as the foreskin slipped back from the head with an almost audible snap, revealing the angry purple flesh underneath, rounded with a huge, furled crown.

“It stretches sooo good going in," Tuck cooed, rubbing his prick on the human's cock, painting his head with his slick juices. “And tickles and catches and puuuulls going out. I wanna fuck fuck fuck zhis cock cock cock! Oh yes yes yes! Does Orry wanna fuck fuck fuck?"

“Yes…" He groaned, flanks heaving.

Tuck lined Orry's cock up with his slit, pressing the tip against the bottom of his cock. “Zhen fuck."

Orry rumbled like a bull and bucked his hips. His fat head squashed for a moment before slipping in with a lewd slurp. Tuck grunted as the lust-filled human hilted himself in a single thrust, knocking the air from his lungs, his torso slamming down, crushing the yinglet against the flour sack. Orry yanked his cock back out, the feeling of his furled, bulbous head scraping against Tuck's cock made him gasp involuntarily, lights flashing behind his eyes.

“Ooooh yeeesss~" Tuck warbled as Orry slammed back into him. “Oof! Ugh! Ahn~ Yes! Orry's cock's so good! S-so so gooood! Fuck Tuck! Yes yes! Fuck Tuck harder!"

The human pulled almost all the way out before pushing half-way in, fucking the scav in quick, shallow thrusts, rubbing his head against the hard, throbbing scav-cock. The effect was immediate, Tuck screamed and went stiff, arching his back, his cock jumping as strand after ropey strand of hot cum splattered over Orry's shirt. He withdrew, his cockhead making a loud, wet pop as it did. He grabbed the yinglet by the hips and hilted himself in a single thrust, making Tuck squeal with pleasure before withdrawing completely once more. The larder echoed with the pops and squelches and slaps their bodies made, the heaving pants and squeaky moans becoming a choir of passion.

“F-fuck! Yes! Orry's stretching and rubbing Tuck sooo goooood! So so gooood! Yes! Tuck's-T-Tuck's gonna ahh! AAHHH!!"

Tuck clung to the human's waist as a hot spray of jizz surged between their bodies, soaking their bellies. Tuck basked in the glow of another orgasm as Orry continued heedlessly onward, desperately pursuing his own pleasure, the process of which already making headway towards getting a third orgasm out of the yinglet. Tuck blinked the haze out of his eyes and smiled, craning his neck up to whisper in Orry's ear.

“Is better, yes?" He whispered. “Is b-better zhan some loose human twat, yes?"

Orry moaned and panted, his thrusts becoming short and shallow, pushing in deep.

“Zhey strut and flaunt all abo–ooh!-ut, charge m-money, want-ahn!-g-gifts, all for zhat, like it's some wonderful z-zhing!" Tuck huffed, squeezing around the invading member, gyrating his hips, causing his cock to practically jump from side to side on top of it. “But I kno-oh!-ow. T-Tuck knows zhat when Tuck's men are with zheir w-wives and ladies zhat all zhey zhink about is Tuck's hot, tight little dickpocket, zhat zhey wish zhey were fucking Tuck instead! I know zhis, ask me how I know."

“F-fuck…"

“I could smell her on you-oh!-I could smell zhat you were wizh her zhis morning, and you still looked at me like a s-starved dog! Did you even cum for her? Did you, Orry?"

“No…" His thrusts erratic and desperate.

Tuck smiled fiendishly and stirred the cock about in his body. “Do ya wanna? Do ya wanna cum now?"

“Y-yes!" Orry almost cried.

Tuck reached up and took Orry's face in his hands, forcing their eyes to meet. “Zhen cum."

Orry's eyes went wide as Tuck swung his hips up, sheathing his cock completely, his legs locking around his back. Orry loosed a low, throaty bellow as his climax roared to the fore, his cock jumping and twitching as he came explosively. Pulse after pulse after pulse of hot white cum surged into the yinglet's dickpocket, already filled utterly by the too-large invader, practically squirting out around his shaft, dripping down and vanishing in Tuck's similarly colored belly fur. The human moaned and ground his hips down on the tiny body, dimly shocked that he was still cumming, still pumping his hot, fresh essence into his partner, his lover.

Tuck's face was a mask of pleasure, the human's issue still pumping deep into him, gushing out of him and coating his already soaked crotch. Yet another member of this proud, powerful race now hopelessly addicted to him. Yet another man thinking of him while inside his wives, thinking of his flesh, his heat, craving it. The sense of victory he felt, of conquest, was almost as satisfying as the act. In fact, at this moment, it felt almost exactly like cumming.

Wait.

No.

He was just cumming.

He was cumming!

Tuck huffed and squealed, his prick jumping as spurt after spurt of cum erupted from its tip, the long, ropey strands splattering across Orry's chest, a particularly strong one catching him across the face. Orry flinched away, pulling his still cumming cock from the yinglet with a loud, wet pop. Tuck smiled and opened his mouth as the human painted him, strands of cum crisscrossing his face and belly, across his tongue. Tuck looked himself over, long, thick strands of human jizz coating his belly, his crotch a matted mess, pocket still bubbling and leaking.

“Mister baker said to glaze zhe buns, not zhe scavs!" Tuck said, giggling as he proceeded to lap up the still-hot cum from his fur, it was strong, musky, the taste of frustration. “A bit pent up, were ya?"

“I haven't…" Orry huffed, panting as he loomed over the well-fucked yinglet, his eyes wide and his expression harrowed. “With my fiancé, I haven't been able to–Not since we… the first time."

Tuck blinked in surprise. Not since the first time? That was weeks ago! Close to a month, even! “Oh, you poor zhing!"

“I love her, but-but since then I can't finish with her… and sh-she thinks its her fault and I–and I…" He put his face in his hands. “Oh, God…"

Tuck resisted the urge to cheer, to dance with victory; he had regulars, sure, but this poor lad was practically his slave now! The Human Catcher grew more powerful with each conquest! He didn't let his exultance show, as the human was in the grips of post-nut clarity and could well wring his neck if he pushed his luck.

“Oh, proud Mr. Orry, do not feel so sad," said Tuck, patting him on the leg. “It is fine. You are not zhe first scav-chaser Tuck has made. Do not worry, zhere is a fix for zhis malady."

“There is?"

Tuck reached over to his discarded vest and rooted around in his pockets, producing a dried, light blue reed. “Here."

Orry took the reed and examined it, was this some manner of medicine to help him with his wife? “What is it?"

“In zhe enclaves, zhe females wear zhis reed to signal zheir readiness for zhe mating. Kinda dumb since zhat's all zhey do anyway," said Tuck, lapping up the cum with obvious relish. “Wear zhat while in town, all zhe human-chasers who see it will see zhat you're a scav-chaser, so you can hump zhem when Tuck is away."

Orry frowned at the yinglet as he cleaned himself. “I'm not a… I don't want to fuck yinglets!"

“Ah-huh," Tuck said, tone flat, before hopping off the truly soiled flour sack. “Sorry Orry, Tuck don't gots a 'make my wife's cunt tighter' reed. Wear zhat, you'll get ying-boys on your cock whenever you want."

“But–"

“Or don't. Whatever." Tuck put on his little vest and made for the door. “Anyway, I gots to go now. Tuck has errands to run. You may wanna change clozhes, you kinda smell like scav jizz and dickpockets. Good luck wizh your wife."

Orry glowered at the smarmy scav, before relenting and examining the reed in his hand. Whenever he wanted? Really?

“Oh, and Orry?"

“Yeah? What–"

He turned around just as a long, pink tongue rolled up his cheek, licking up the streak of scav-cum there. Tuck booped his shelltooth against the baker's lips in a kiss and giggled. “Zhat was some good humpin's today. You'll have the ying-boys lining up around zhe block."

With that, the Human Catcher sauntered out of the larder, tail dusting away the prints he was leaving in the flour. He hopped up onto the counter and then to the window. He glanced back over his shoulder at the baker's assistant, he was staring dumbly at the reed in his hand. Tuck didn't need to read minds to know what was going through his head. The lad was well and truly hooked, the human-chasers around here would thank him if they knew.

Now, where was he?

He hopped out the window and into the alley. Where to next? Tuck reached into his pocket and pulled out the list: tailor, coppersmith, merchant, butcher…

His eyes lit up at the last one, a smile spreading across his features.

Fishmonger.

He knew where he was going next.