FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Ok, the warning, this story has romance between two males and sex between three. If you don't like it, stop right here and don't read on. If you are still reading on and you don't like it, then I'd like to know why you were browsing the M/M page of yiffstar. Not only that, if you are underage, you can't really sue me anyway because if you tried you would get in enormous trouble for looking at this stuff illegally. Then again, you could probably sue your parents for uninformative upbringing. In any case, I honestly do hope you enjoy the story. So read on :-)

A Note About the Story: Before I say anything about this, one thing you should know is that you will get the most out of it if you read the entire thing. Some of you may not be for all the romance, but you really do miss a lot of the setting for the story, which adds to the sentiment during the actual "sex scenes." Ok, now for the rest: This story started out as a study of dialects in the english language and I wanted to play around with them a bit. You'll notice I vary the for and fer the to and ta, etc. That's on purpose, because as a spoken sentence develops, people often switch how they pronounce a word depening on the words prior to and after it. That is how this story started out anyway. My philosophical side and sexual appetite somehow managed to crash into the thought train and were dragged along the tracks by my inspiration engine, creating huge dredges along the sides. So, in short, this isn't my best story, I know it, but I still hope that the story turned out well enough that it makes you happy. My grammar isn't the best, so notes on that would be appreciated (except in the dialogue where it is obviously meant to be bad grammer because of the dialect). Also, plot holes, places that need filling in, mispellings, etc. All of that would be appreciated too. I probably won't be posting again for a while, unless someone here is willing to post stories I email to them for me. I'm going to a college that is rather against fun like this, and if I even try to access this site I could get a truckload of demerits - basically the faculty is a bunch of righteous people that don't like to mind their own business . . . scratch that, they make it a point to mind everyone else's business. Not surprisingly, it was my parent's choice, as they made it financially impossible to go anyplace else. So anyway, I hope you all like this story, one of my last contributions before I head off in a week. I shall return. Take care all!

An Angel's Heart

Stan trotted his way through the crowd in the muddy street, dodging puddles and kids the whole distance to the hotel. Eyes turned to look at him as he passed, both because he was a newcomer, and also because he was unusual. Stan was averagely-built as horses go but not anything dramatic. His coat was the standard chesnut with the corrosponding glossy brown mane and tail, and set wide in his head were a pair of soft, innocent brown eyes. The thing that set him apart was his size, since he was only about 5 feet tall and normal horses reached at least 6. Stan knew he was short, but had learned to live with it like everything else. He was generally shy, which was evidenced by the relatively few and barely audible words he spoke to those he passed in comparison with the roaring town mahem around him. One might wonder what such a shy little pony like him was doing out in the west, until you looked at his life back in the tamed east: it was exactly that, tame and utterly boring. He had enough of a flare for adventure to steer his feet to one of the less populated and more friendly western towns, but also enough timidity to keep him from going anywhere else. Still, he wasn't unhappy -- just needed to find a job, which at the moment was being a bit of a problem. Stan jumped up the hotel's wooden steps and squeezed his way past the people on the boardwalk into the much quieter lobby. The innkeeper, an older coyote gentlemen, shot a grin at him from behind the registry counter.

"They're packed thicker th'n Milly's on a Sunday - I reckon it'll die down 'round eight'er so."

Stan smiled and nodded, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his wrist.

"Yeah, I can't stand crowds. I wonder how on earth they do?"

The innkeeper laughed and motioned out one of the windows.

"Well mister, if ya look, they're mostly women out there. Chatterin' is what th'women do the best and the most of, and they'll stand around doin' it all day long no matter what the condition."

"Ah . . Well, thank you. May I have the key to my room?"

"Sure thing mister . . . here ya go."

"Thanks sir."

Without waiting for more conversation, Stan made his way up the stairs, finding his room down the hall and unlocking the door. He walked in and closed the door behind him, exhaustedly falling back on his bed with a deep sigh.

"Where'm I gonna get a job? Man this stinks." Stan leaned his face into his palms, massaging his muzzle and forhead tenderly as if it ached. The light was getting low in the room, since the sun was beginning to set, so Stan stripped his clothing and sat on the edge of his bed. The tall full-length dressing mirror caught his relfection and his eye, so absent mindedly he stood up and walked over to it, going over his body inch by inch starting with his neck and chest. Finally it reached his crotch, where a small, but thick cock was hanging limply in half-arousal. He took it in his hand and stroked it, a sad demeanor overcoming his frame as he gazed down at it, a lone piece of flesh, attached to a lone horse, who was so small and insignificant nobody wanted him. His strokes grew slower as his mind drifted away from the sight into the recesses of his thought and memory, a tear trickling down his nose and splashing almost audibly on the floor. He sighed and turned his back on the mirror, settling down in his bed with his pillow hugged close to his chest. Slowly, restlessly, he drifted to sleep.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

The next day was an early start. The owner of a restraunt had agreed to give him a day's trial period to prove himself worthy of a job waitering there. Stan had gotten up early, arrived early, got the tables ready early, everything as early as he could make it in an effort to impress the owner. However, the owner, a spikey old lizard known only as Mr. D (most folks had forgotten what the "D" stood for), took no notice and scrutinized Stan's every move with the iciest precision the horse could remember.

It was going on noon and business was fast, so Stan was having trouble not running into customers or other waiters. Thankfully Mr. D was also busy, and had long ago been forced to give up his close inspection. Stan was serving a bull a foot-high stack of pancakes when one of the waiters fatefully called "Hey Stan!" Stan, trying to be helpful, twisted around to locate the person in need, but in doing so caught his heel in a gaping knothole of the wooden floor, sending him smashing into the bull's table with pancakes flying in all directions -- mainly at the bull. The next few moments were an evolution of frenzied contortions as Stan somehow managed to sumersault backwards over the bull's lap and land on the floor of the other side, unfortunately right in front of the restraunt's entrance. Something big and black was just walking through the swing doors as he fell, and a moment later something big and black was crashing down on top of Stan. The air was blasted from his lungs as the tremendous weight slammed into this chest, the sheer pressure making it almost impossible to breath. In an instant the weight was removed, but Stan's rib cage felt as if it had caved into his lungs. He wheezed as his mind slowly regained awareness of his major senses and something began batting annoyingly at his nose.

"Hey . . . hey kid! Wake up! . . . com'on kid, you'll be ok."

Stan felt the bats change to a warm gentle rub on his cheek, causing him to whiny softly and put a hand up to stroke the one on his face. He opened his eyes and almost had a siezure as his body froze in position from the shock. Leaning over him was the most gorgeous black stallion he had ever seen. He could tell from his shoulders -- and the way the breath was knocked out of him -- that the horse was large, at least 7 feet of pure muscle. His coat was short and glossy, and his mane hung loosely but stylishly over his face and neck and his eyes were a deep dark blue as if they had been clipped out of the sky at midnight . . . his face was shaped perfectly . . . his legs . . . his . . . - Stan jerked himself out of the reverie and quickly withdrew his hand as he realized the horse above him was giving him a very odd expression. He laborously scrambled to his feet and tried to brush himself off, trying to forget the embarrasment of having paid such obvious attention to the other horse's features.

"S-s-sorry s-sir. . . I- I- . . . I must've blacked out f-for a minute. I th-think I was d-dreaming."

The black stallion smiled and patted Stan's shoulder.

"Naw, don't worry yerself about it. The name's Alexander, Sheriff Alexander. That sounds silly though, so most folks just call me Alex, you can do th'same."

Stan nodded nervously and forced a smile on his face.

"Yeah, um . . . my name's Stan." he replied, jutting his arm out stiffly in an attempt to offer a handshake without shaking.

"Hey!?" Shouted an angry voice behind them, giving Stan a good jolt Before he had time to turn around, a heavy brown hand clapped down on his shoulder and did it for him, whirling him around to face its owner with the speed of a centrifuge. "Look'it my pants! Look'it my shirt!!! You Little TWERP!! Yer gonna pay for all this! Where's yer money!?! I want it NOW!!!" The bull heaved his breath in and out as if it were a concious effort, his complexion several shades redder than Stan's memory indicated before the incident. As Stan was still trying to think up an answer Alex moved in between them like an steel wall.

"Hey now, slow down Jake! It was an accident, he didn't me-"

"Alex you stay outa this! I have a mind ta sock the lil' runt right in the kisser!"

Stan folded his ears back on his head and whimpered as "Jake" as he was called tried to get around the sheriff. Meanwhile, Alex crossed his arms and drew himself up to his full height, towering over the bull by several inches and with a decidedly sharp glare in his eye.

"Jake, you cut out that kinda talk'r I'm gonna have ta make sure ya do myself, and ya better believe I WILL. Ya weren't assaulted, ya weren't mamed, and there certainly ain't no maple syrup that a little bit'a good old soap can't fix. Now either order s'more pancakes an' sit quiet or get out."

Just as Alex finished his speech a slightly red, very contorted, green reptilian face appeared before Stan, the beady eyes embedded in the scales gleaming with rage.

"You stupid IDIOT!!! YOU'RE FIRED. NO WAY I'm gonna let you work with me! You did THE WORST THING a waiter could EVER do on the FIRST DAY! YOU'RE FIRED!! GET OUT!! OOOUUT!!!" This dialog was repeated over and over as the crusty old lizard shoved Stan to and out the door with Alex and Jake following close behind. When Mr. D had gotten Stan far enough away from the proximity of his building to satisfy his peeves he stormed back into the restraunt, which was full of now stone-silent customers. Jake likewise marched down the street in a similiar state of rage, though somewhat deflated by Alex's assertiveness. Alex scratched his head and turned to Stan with a look of pity and consternation.

"I'm sorry about all that Stan. Didn't mean to make ya lose yer job."

"Nah . . . it's ok it wasn't you at all." Stan replied, brushing the dust off his clothes and hanging the waiter's apron on a nearby post. He didn't exactly feel like going in to return it.

"I didn't really have it anyway, it was just a trial and I would have lost it anyway. I've been as clumsy as an o-" he stopped to make sure the bull was out of hearing range before finishing, "ox . . ."

Alex chuckled and then stood there for a minute, looking Stan over thoughtfully.

"Stan, how much weight can you lift?"

"Huh? Oh . . . I guess about 200 pounds. That's kinda iffy though, I've never worked out or anything."

"How'd you like to be my deputy?

"You're what??" Stan's eyes saucered up at the sheriff. "I could never take a job like that! Look at me! I'm . . . I'm . ."

"Short? Don't worry about that. Yer a regular fireball, all you need is a little match to light ya. You'd get good pay and a place to stay at least. A little cabin about a quarter mile from the office -- not big, but cozy. What do ya say?"

"Well . . . I do need a place to stay . . . and this town doesn't look terribly crime ridden . . . I guess I will."

"Great! Go get yer stuff from wherever you are now an' drop down by the office. It's just a little ways down this street, ya can't miss it."

"Thanks Sheriff! I'll be there in a jiffy!" Stan was off to the hotel before Alex even had a chance to reply, almost dancing on his toes as he glided down the street. He was now working with the guy of his dreams, someone who actually cared and was as handsome as anything. Sure, his grammar wasn't the kind that would be seen as proper by those back east, but then, he didn't really care. Alex had a sweet disposition, a heavenly grin, the power to dominate plus the will and strength to restrain it. List upon list of new praises flipped through Stan's mind as he bounded up to his hotel room, once again shutting the door behind him and staring into his room, but this time with a grin plastered on his face. It was mischevious with just enough innocence in his eyes to make him look cute, and he murred as he thought of the stallion. He unbuckled his pants and then them fall to the floor, then took down his underpants and unbottoned the bottom part of his shirt. He kneeled down on the floor with his legs spread flat on the floor, letting his balls settle in the discarded clothing. He grabbed a bottle of trimming oil from the nearby desk and stroked some of it onto his already hard shaft, whineying softly as it throbbed in his grasp. With his other hand he began to massage the sheath and lower part of his cock underneath it, playing his thumb over the head of his member. As he stroked harder, need forced him to take his nuts into his palm, cupping them against his groin as his already horny body was fast responding to the attention it was getting. He pumped on the cock more firmly, groaning and spreading his legs even more, as his lust rose. He slowed down the strokes as he felt his climax coming, his hand clenched firmly to his sack as it pulled up. The little horse strained his neck forward, his teeth and eyes clenched shut as he came, his cock spurting out heavy jets of satisfying seed onto the floor and clothes in front of him. He sighed and got up, ignoring the mess he made and flopping onto his bed once again, his cock similiarly sprawled out on his belly, still dripping cum. His smile remained as he stared up at the ceiling, forgetting his loneliness for once.