FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Connor wasn't much of a runner, but today the golden retriever ran as if he were in an Olympic marathon. Drab brick buildings rushed past his vision in a blur as he dashed down empty, unfamiliar streets. He didn't know where he was or where he was running to, nor did he particularly care as long as he could evade his pursuers. But escape was easier said than done. The people coming after him were clever, and had every reason to be persistent.

He'd made a mistake. He could admit that. Well, it was more like eight mistakes actually, but didn't everyone make mistakes? Did he really deserve to be hunted for it, to be run to ground like some kind of prey? The situation wasn't entirely his fault; they had been willing participants, so they had to accept some of the blame. So why was he the fugitive? Okay, so maybe he shouldn't have run when they confronted him. Maybe he should have stayed and faced his problems, but panic overwhelmed his good judgment. These were eight very large mistakes, after all.

He shook his head and tried to push the bitter thoughts out of his mind. They were just a distraction, and he needed to stay focused on his surroundings. The inevitable attack could come at any time. And once he began paying more attention to his surroundings, he detected a strange electric whirring coming up behind him. His floppy ears perked as he tried to determine the source of the sound. The noise grew steadily louder, until he steeled his nerves and chanced a look behind him. He gulped nervously when he saw what it was. A dingo and a tabby cat pursued him on a pair of Segway scooters. He knew them - Rebecca and Maya, just two members of the group that hunted him.

Rebecca brandished a boomerang in her hand, arm cocked expectantly as she lined up a throw. Connor only caught a glimpse of the sandy-furred dingo's determined glare, but it was enough to send a shiver through him. And Maya was just as fearsome. The cat swung a heavy boleadora around her head. The sound of the tethered weights swishing through the air made his hackles rise, and he redoubled his pace. He didn't want to find out how accurate their throwing arms were.

Spying a fire escape on a nearby building, he bolted for it just as he heard Rebecca give a warning bark. He made a desperate leap for the lowest platform, somehow hoisting himself up and beginning a mad scramble up the stairs. Each metal step clanged beneath his feet as he climbed. After only a few desperate strides, a pair of heavy thuds shook the structure; the thrown projectiles barely missed him. The dog yelped, too frightened to look back, and continued his ascent, vaulting onto the roof as soon as he reached the top of the fire escape.

On the roof, he collapsed to his knees while he tried to catch his breath. He wasn't in terrible shape, but he was no athlete, and that stunt had pushed him to his absolute limits. His mouth was dry from his heavy panting, and his legs and chest burned terribly. He felt about ready to pass out, but then he heard footsteps approaching.

"Hey, Connor, did you miss us?"

He knew that teasing voice. He looked up slowly, and was not surprised to see a familiar brown vixen standing halfway across the roof. Sara was as beautiful as always, with mischievous emerald eyes framed by intricate patterns of gray, brown, and cream fur. He was surprised, however, to see her holding a large rifle. And she wasn't alone. A taller gecko with pale blue scales stood next to her, holding a similar gun. Connor remembered Myria as someone who was friendly and soft-spoken. He never would have imagined that she could look so threatening.

The golden retriever felt the fur on the back of his neck standing up again as a lump of terror settled in the pit of his stomach. His eyes darted across the roof, searching for any potential escape. There was a roof access door not far from him, but he didn't know if he could dodge a bullet to get to it.

"Are you ready to come with us quietly?" asked Myria.

Connor shook his head no.

"Too bad," teased Sara. "We hoped it wouldn't come to this. Now hold still. This will hurt you more than it hurts us."

Both girls aimed right at him. The entire world seemed to slow down as a new wave of adrenaline surged through the golden retriever. Calling upon some hidden reserve of strength, he leaped for the door. The two girls fired. Their shots missed him by inches, ricocheting off the concrete. From his peripheral vision, he realized that it wasn't a hail of bullets that had whizzed past him, but a pair of tranquilizer darts. The knowledge that they weren't really trying to kill him provided a measure of relief. But he didn't stop to dwell on the deeper meaning of their actions. Instead, he put his effort into running down the many flights of stairs to the ground level.

When he found himself out on the street once again, he wondered where else he could go. Sara and Myria were probably not far behind him, and the persistent whirr of electric motors told him that Rebecca and Maya would soon catch up as well. As he took in his surroundings, he noticed a narrow alleyway across the street. It seemed like his best hope, so he sprinted towards it.

The alley was dark, quiet, and empty except for a large dumpster and some assorted debris. Only the echoes of his footsteps broke the silence as he charged through the brick passageway. His path was clear; he could see the light at the other end. For a second, he felt hopeful. If he could find a few more shortcuts like this, maybe he could lose his pursuers and find a place to hide for a while. But then, as he passed the dumpster, something snagged his ankle. As he fell over the well-hidden tripwire, watching the ground rush up to meet him, only one thought flashed through his mind: Worst. Chase scene. Ever.

The dog hit the pavement hard, with a pained yelp. He recovered as quickly as he could, but as he rose to his knees, he found his way blocked by a Siberian husky and a red squirrel. The husky grinned down at him with her bright heterochromatic eyes. "Where do you think you're going?" Synge was almost exactly as he remembered her, playful and confident, though she hadn't been seven months pregnant the last time he saw her. He let out a defeated whine when she firmly grabbed his arm.

The squirrel, Eunice, was also noticeably gravid, though her belly was somewhat smaller. She giggled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I don't know why you ran when we came to tell you the good news. This is all so exciting!" Then she grabbed his other arm and helped Synge drag him out of the alley.

They held him there on the street. Over the next several minutes, the others arrived: Rebecca and Maya, Sara and Myria, and lastly Aloria and Raychel, the only members of the group he hadn't seen since that morning. Though he feared them now, their faces also reminded him of a happier, more carefree time.

Six months ago he had been living the bachelor's dream, bedding a succession of beautiful and eager ladies. At one time or another, each of the eight girls surrounding him had writhed and moaned beneath him, softly calling his name as their expressions contorted in ecstasy. Almost every weekend he brought home a new conquest, only to send her away the next morning, confident that only pleasant memories would remain from the night's activities. But he hadn't been as careful as she should have, and now these eight girls had come to show him what else had resulted from those wild times.

Every single one of them was pregnant. Synge was furthest along, while Rebecca had only a modest bump so far. The others were at various stages in between.

They stood around him in a circle. Raychel and Aloria glared at him, making plain their displeasure at the unplanned turn of events. By contrast, Eunice grinned broadly, overjoyed at the idea of having a child despite the circumstances. Rebecca and Sara also seemed reasonably content with the prospect of motherhood. Myria, Synge, and Maya were harder to read; they didn't precisely look happy, but they seemed determined to make the best of a less than ideal situation. Though their expressions varied widely, all eight remained terrifyingly silent as they looked down on the golden retriever who had fathered their future children.

Amid the tense atmosphere, Connor took a while to find his voice. "What are you going to do to me?"

They exchanged meaningful glances, holding a brief, silent debate before settling on their answer. "Let's beat him with a sack of condoms!"

"What? No! Ow!" Seemingly out of nowhere, they produced a huge bag of prophylactics and took turns pummeling him with it. At first the rubbery blows bounced off of him harmlessly, but they kept hitting harder and harder, until his face, arms, and back were covered with red welts beneath his fur and his skin burned with each new impact. They didn't stop until he cowered on the ground, whining and whimpering.

Aloria eventually spoke up, after everyone had taken several turns with the bag. "Alright, girls, I think he's had enough. Should we keep him?" There were murmurs of assent throughout the group. In response to the affirmative vote, the curvaceous white rabbit kneeled down next to the dog and fastened a leather collar around his neck. She grinned sardonically and gave his head a gentle pat before she rose to her feet.

Then Raychel approached and attached a leash to the collar. "Listen up, mister," the white husky growled, gripping his muzzle and forcing him to look her straight in the eye. "You're going to take care of all of us and all these little bastards you sired. You will be a loving, attentive, doting father. Got it?"

Connor nodded meekly.

"Good. Now we're going to go back to your place, and you're going to give us all foot rubs while we eat pickles and ice cream and do other stereotypical pregnant lady things."

"But is the collar really necessary?"

"Yes!" the girls exclaimed. Then they set off for home, dragging Connor behind them by his leash.