FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Ten dollars and thirty-five cents an hour. That sounded pretty good when he'd taken the job. After all, the fox was only making minimum wage before, and anything was an upgrade over that state of affairs. To be fair, making double digits at his job really wasn't that bad seeing as he really didn't do anything. The red fox's black dress shoes clacked on the hard floor as he walked through the big passageways. Now and then he'd reach a checkpoint and tap his wand against the RFID reader associated with it. Billy always found it a tad ironic that a small-framed geeky type like himself was security at a building where some of the biggest and strongest men in the world worked.

The offseason was the best part of the year by far. Things could get hectic in the colder months, and downright nuts on game days, but there was a lot of down time in the spring. On that particular day there was a team practice in the morning, but those guys had cleared out pretty quick once things were done. Not even the coaches or administrators stuck around, for once.

Last stop on the rounds was the rooftop. Normally it was just a quick out of the door, but not after a practice. The fox wrapped his arms around himself as a gust of wind hit his fur. Cold, damp, windy; no way any of those prima donna players ran to practice as they might wont to be do as the season approached. Billy walked briskly against the wind towards the side of the building where the parking lot was, and grinned widely when he saw it completely empty. The place was all his, and the gusts of damp spring air didn't bother him as he headed back inside with a little more pep in his step.

After one last paranoid check around the building, the lone security guard opened the big double doors towards the locker room. His nose might as well have hit a wall, and Billy couldn't help but half lid his eyes at the bouquet of masculinity that greeted him. Yeah, it was nasty, sneaking into a locker room after a practice (and before the cleaning ladies arrived) just to sneak a few whiffs of a jockstrap. Billy didn't care, he knew the kind of men that wore them. Hell, he knew exactly who wore which ones. Eager black fingers ran along the smooth wooden outlines of the players' private alcoves. The fox stopped at one of them.

'Parrish, J. 08', stated the brass tag above the dirty, carelessly piled uniform pieces. Jerry Parrish was the starting quarterback for the River City Thunder. Fourteen million a year and the big-time star couldn't even fold his own dirty laundry up. Billy trembled as he reached for the ultimate prize. One more glance around the room confirmed that there was still nobody else there. There certainly were no cameras faced inwards at the players' personal spaces, so he was safe there, too.

Billy brought the used jock strap up to his twitching nose and leaned back against the wall in bliss. The intense essence of that big, tall, muscular artic fox quarterback filled his airways. A little whimper escaped the muzzle of the lithe red fox before he took another big whiff. It only took a few seconds before he had to reach down and adjust his suddenly tight uniform pants. It was particularly uncomfortable due to the weight of all the keys and lights and radio and wand hanging off his belt, but that discomfort was a mere afterthought. He unzipped and reached in to give himself some teasing rubs against the bulge in his undies.

"What the fuck?!"

Billy's world stopped. He dropped the jockstrap on the floor. His erection did what he wished he could have and disappeared in an instant. His tail poofed up and he started seeing colors as he damn near feared passing out in horror. The little fox felt even smaller and wanted nothing more but to lean back against the locker and somehow be absorbed into the wall. He'd been caught.

There were two players--clad only in towels-- starring at him. The first was a rat, and a big one, like 6'6 around 300ish pounds big. That was Brian James, a tackle for the team. Next to him, almost comically, was a brown mouse who was a full foot shorter than his fellow rodent. Mice weren't common in the league for obvious reasons; in fact, there were only two active mouse players. Darius Bentley was one of them, and the short and stout fellow had gotten a lot of attention for being an elusive running back and swift kick returner. How were they there? How hadn't he noticed?

"I said," Brian repeated--thick brown arms folded across his cream colored chest--, "What. The. Fuck."

"Looks like this little fox fag was trying to get a whiff of Jerry." Darius took a step forward flashed his prominent front teeth in a sinister--though inevitably cute--grin. "You like sniffing men's junk, you little queer?"

Billy couldn't speak in the face of the dire situation that he suddenly found himself in. He'd have to quit, even if they attacked him, or lest he'd get fired for what he'd done, and certainly nobody else would ever hire him after they learned about this. The fox opened his mouth, and squeaked out some incomprehensible mumbled reply.

Both of the football players were creeping up on him, even the short mouse looked powerful. There was no way he could fight his way out of this, and there was certainly no way he could call for help. He pictured himself in the hospital, beaten half to death, and what kind of made up story he'd produce to conceal the real cause of the injuries

"Shit," Brian got closer, and his eyes roved up and down his soon-to-be victim. "I knew they didn't give you guys guns, but you ain't even got a tazer, or pepper spray."

Darius chuckled, "yeah, looks pretty helpless."

Billy's ears flattened and he was almost surprised when he managed to form some actual words. "Please, don't hurt me."

Brian dropped his towel. "Oh...I'll try not to, little slut." Billy's eyes went wide as he realized what was going to happen. They were demanding payment for their silence, and it wasn't money they wanted. The fox bit his lip and looked down at the semi-hard rat. He'd never actually seen another guy up close, only in videos and pictures, and a few glances from school gym class. This was different; this was a real man, getting hard right before his eyes as he stroked himself slowly. This man wanted Billy to please him, and the fox knew he had little choice.

"What's wrong, bitch? Ain't you ever sucked a guy off?" Brian was clearly impatient. Darius, for his part, seemed content to watch; maybe a little uneasy about doing something gay.

Billy shook his head nervously. That bit of honesty only seemed to rile the rat up even more. He stepped closer, and his pink shaft was close enough that the fox could see the crisscrossing veins and catch whiffs of male off of it. Truth be told, Billy thought that the big tackle would have a bigger package. The rat looked amazing, but he didn't really match up with the porno's that the virgin fox had been watching or the naughty stories he'd been reading.

A heavy paw landed on the fox's head. Billy knew what he should do, or at least what a slutty fox from one of his favorite stories would be doing. Billy got on his knees and placed his fingerpads against the soft white fur around the rat's inner thigh. He got a approving sigh, which made the fox slightly less hesitant. The scent was strong, and the first taste was just as powerful as his nervous lips found their way around the other male. It was a foreign taste and experience, but not an unpleasant one. A slight yank in his headfur told the fox that he let one of his teeth touch the sensitive skin. A slight relaxing and murring sound told the fox that he was doing something right. The vulpine closed his eyes and cupped the rat's balls; giving them a few experimental rolls in his fingers. Whatever that did seemed to flip a switch in the big tackle, as Brian started rocking his hips--and by extension, cock--into Billy's muzzle. The fox could do nothing but loosen up his jaw and breath through his nose as he felt himself being bred in the face.

Billy's entire world was a few inches of cock in front of him, and the strong hands on his head, and the wet noises of sex. He could have sworn he heard some other wet and stroking noise as well, possibly Darius helping himself out while he watched, possibly just nothing.

"Ah, fuck, coming." Brian managed to pant out between his breaths. The rat's cock pulsed, and Billy's taste buds got an explosion of sensation. He swallowed as fast as he could--taking care not to bite down with his gulps-- once, twice, three times, finally the rat pulled out and left the fox gasping. Billy's cheek and lips were smeared with cum that he'd missed, and his airways were filled with level of muskiness that he never knew existed.

"Don't get all weak-kneed on me now, slut," came the higher voice that belonged to Darius. Billy batted his eyes open and looked up at something he did not expect. The little brown mouse was not so little. In fact, he was huge. Billy wrapped his fingers around the shaft, barely, and gave the big mouse's tip a lick. Darius was different. His scent was milder, and he seemed a little shy about the whole thing; preferring to mostly stroke himself and just use the fox's muzzle as a saliva dispenser. Darius also never seemed keen on touching the fox, except the occasional brush with his wrist as he went to take his own shaft.

He didn't warn Billy when he was about to come, so the fox whimpered and recoiled in surprise as a jets of thick seed hit his cheek and the bridge of his nose; just missing his eyes. Darius didn't have nearly the volume as his teammate, but it was much, much thicker. Billy risked cracking an eye open to see that the mouse had mostly dribbled on his own self, and promptly wiped his cum-covered cock on the fox's dry cheek. He said something about "slut" again and wandered off abruptly.

"Hey cocksucker, what's your name?" Brian was still there. He'd been sitting on a nearby bench watching the fun. "Sorry about Darius, he's a little bashful about other guys getting him off."

Billy wiped some of the warm cream off his face with his sleeves; he'd have to find a spare uniform before anyone else showed up. "Billy."

Brian nodded and tossed a towel over, "okay, Billy. We're not going to say what we saw you doing, because frankly I'd like you to keep your job." The implications of that were clear, and the fox only nodded slowly. He wanted it. "Furthermore, I'm going to have to let the QB know who's jock you been sniffing, and he's not gonna be satisfied with your muzzle." Billy felt his rump twitch at that, but he nodded once more. "I don't need to tell you to be quiet about this, right?"

The fox shook his head, "no, I'd never tell anyone."

"Good, good. Coach would kill us." The thought of the big players being intimidated by that tiny weasel of a coach that the team had was amusing. "Oh, do me one more favor?"

"Yeah?" the fox said as he tried in vain to clean himself up.

"Can you call us a cab? Car had issues on the way here and I don't want some cab company having my number."

Billy perked up and smiled, "you bet!"

Brian gave the little fox a wink, "next practice is Friday. I'll pull a few strings, make sure you get that shift." Things were going to be a lot more interesting in his life, and that was A-Okay with him.