FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In an alleyway, with the sun rising above, heaps of trash bags spilled over the the metal bins. Flies buzzed idly overhead, the smell of rotting food meeting the nostrils of a nearby zebra, who was around the corner. Her hands grasped the chain-linked fence, as it rattled in a rhythm. A balding, middle aged man in uniform held his hands upon her waist, his pants pooled around his ankles. His teeth clenched together, as his balls slapped against the zebra's rump, "This, is what, you get!"

Droplets of spent cum landed upon the zebra's ripped clothing, a broken bra covering her breasts partially. The zebra's throat releases a quiet whinny, as her black, flare-tipped cock hung limply between her legs, pinned against the fence. The man's form pushed the zebra's form into the iron fence, her breasts becoming marked with the pressure. The man's hand grasped the zebra's hips, pulling her backward, her breasts sliding downward upon the metal fence. His mustache curled and sweat marked his facial features, his hips slowing, but becoming firmer, "Think you're, bigger, and better..." The man's balls slapped firmly into the zebra's, a bruise showing, as the man's hands grasped the zebra's mane, pulling upon it. The zebra's head tilts upward, a stuttered sound escaping her throat, "Please, God.."

The man's cock slams itself into the zebra's sex, as the veins upon his forehead bulge outward, his balls pulling upwards, "Animals, have no God! Fuuuck.." Cum drips from the zebra's sex, as her fingers curl themselves into the metal fencing. The officer's chest lifts and falls heavily, as few individuals dressed in worn hoodies and jeans round the corner, the first idly placing a metal pipe into the palm of his fingerless glove, over and over. The others filed in behind his shorter form, as the first figure spoke up over the panting of the other two, "What do we have here, boys? Some sort of monster?"

The officer's form starts and he turns around, his hands shoving the zebra into the fence, "Oh what the fuck! Stay back, I'm fucking police!" The shorter fellow looks upwards, his red and white snout showing, a black nose partially bloodied. Along his cheeks, a few scars show through the red fur. The fox's lips rise in a snarl, "All I see is fucking zebra. Do you know what that means?" The fox's head lifts upwards towards the officer, and two large reptilians advance towards the officer, grasping his arms that attempted to grab for his pants. Pulling him out of the zebra, the officer's legs kick out, his face a bright red, "I'll have you all fucking killed! Do you hear me?! Dead! Dead, all of yhmph!"

A faded, green scaled male stuffs a dirtied cloth into the officer's mouth, as he offers a nod towards the gray scaled crocodile across from him. They pull the officer's arms wide, his legs still kicking. The fox gestures towards the struggling man, his lips releasing a short whistle. A large, scarred feline and a rough furred wolf move around the fox to grasp at the officer's legs, holding them apart. The officer's throat releases muffled screams, as the fox takes a step forward, his glove grasping the officer's uniform around the collar. Pulling back, the fox's breath hits the man's cheek, his lips pulled back in a snarl. The officer's eyes become wide, his brows deeply furrowed. The fox's glove tightens in the cloth of the officer's collar, "It means you're an animal."

The fox releases the collar and walks around the others, his left hand swinging the pipe idly through the air, "But you're not vulpus vulpus. Nor indri indri, or canis rufus." Stopping to face the officer, the pipe collides into the fox's gloved palm, "You, my friend." He spits the words, "Are homo sapien. Do you know what that is?" The officer shakes his head rapidly, as the fox's lips lift in a snarl, his teeth partially decayed, "That's Latin! It's fucking Latin! It's a dead language." Pointing the curved end of the pipe towards the officer, the fox draws it against the officer's shirt, and downward, "You and I. We're part of a dead language. Its time you learned that..."

The pipe's end snagged a few stomach hairs of the officer between the metal lips, as it stopped just above the officer's flaccid cock. The officer's face shifts into shocking realization, as the fox lifts the pipe above his head, his gloved hand joining the other in gripping the flatter end. The officer shakes his head rapidly, his muffled screams becoming louder. The fox's arm falls and the officer's form starts, a bruise showing just above his cock. Lifting the pipe again, "This! This is police brutality!" The officer's eyes roll into the back of his head as blood splatters the dirty cement, the pipe crushing the officer's testicles. The zebra's form had turned around, her hand slowly lifting upward, covering her snout and parted lips. Her eyes were wide, as the fox's arms lifted, and fell in a steady rhythm.

The rounded tip of the pipe was covered in a dark, wet red, as blood seeped beneath the man's limp legs. Blood splatted against the fox's jeans and hoodie, layered underneath new blood. The officer's cock became a bloodied lump hanging loosely over ruptured testicles, before the four others released the officer's limp body. The fox's pipe pushes against the officer's chest, leaving bloody marks, "Well, friends. I guess our friend won't be helping out our neighborhood no more. A real shame." The green scaled iguana kneels, his hands releasing the glock from the officer's holster and holding it upward, "Guess he won't be needing this." The fox gave a nod, before his gaze drifts over his shoulder, his eyes looking it over, "Hey. Sorry about that. Sometimes, they need to be taught a lesson." The zebra's gaze lingers upon the officer's corpse, blinking once.

The fox's form turns about, his worn-down shoes carrying him towards the zebra, his gloved hand outstretched, "My name's Sam. You're safe now, but not here. We need to get out, before the others show up." The zebra looks to the hand, then towards the fox, shakingly grasping it, "T-Tila."

The band of miscreants, Sam, and Tila move through the broken walls of past buildings, between the trash bag filled streets, finally passing the laying sign of Treble Street. Sam approaches the large, closed door of a warehouse, his wrist wrapping themselves upon the dulled metal, "Open up, its Sam." The door slowly slides open, after a few minutes. Sam waves the others in, as he enters.

Light falls downward from the holes in the roof, illuminating the others standing around, the sleeping bags piled in the furthest corners from the dirtied windows. A faded sign on the side of the catwalk above reads "35 Single Gear 1-Stonne LOAD NOT TO EXCEED. Gear 8-1 tonne." A ladder leads to the catwalk upon the right of the building. The bare floor is covered in questionable stains, and a room to the right holds a stretcher, an off-green lamp, and a few dirtied tools. A raccoon lays upon his back on the stretcher, a rough, blood-speckled blanket covering his clothed form up to his chest. He lifts his head up and offers a pained smile to the others, before returning to resting.

Sam offers a slight nod towards the others, as Tila's gaze drifts about, her lips pulling into a worrying frown. Those behind Sam move to push the metal bar on the door, closing the door with a steady creaking sound. The others disperse to talk about their recent outing, while Sam's gaze falls upon Tila, "Don't worry. We're here for you, and for us." Tila nods, once, but stares at a few darkly-clothed wolves sharing a cigarette, their facial fur displaced by bald spots and scars. They look up, but Sam directs their attention with a gesture towards the spare room, "Check up on him, would you?" They offer nods and push off of the stone wall, moving towards the spare room.

Sam motions for Tila to follow him. He grasps the ladder with his gloved hand, rotating his form to face it. Ascending the ladder half-way, he looks over his shoulder, "Let me introduce you to my sister. She'd be overjoyed to talk to someone like you." Tila facial features soften and she nods, once, "Okay." Sam's form ascends the stairs, "Oh, and don't push too hard. One day, this too will collapse." Tila stares at the ladder, before slowly reaching for it. She ascends, but slowly. Sam passes through a collapsed wall on the right of the catwalk, a sledge-hammer leaning against it. Several thick planks of wood connected the warehouse to its neighboring building, a similar hole in the side of it.

Tila pulls herself up onto the catwalk and walks through the hole in the wall. Her gaze lingers upon the planks of wood, then drifts upwards, as Sam beckons to her, "Don't worry, they're real sturdy. Nobody's broken them yet, and some of us are on the beefier side of safety measures." Tila offers a nod, but her throat swallows. Her hands spread outwards, as her hooves clop against the planks.

The neighboring room's floor was covered in moss, empty plastic Cola bottles, a few milk cartons, a stiff boat cover, and a backpack with a broken zipper. A two-tone leather chair was settled near the broken windows to the left of the room, while a ledge to the right led steep fall. Trash bags littered the ground floor, piled in a large circle. A few were propped up against a smaller, metal door with a large wrench attached to the otherwise broken handle. A faded orange and yellow book cover, featuring a man with a hat and a gear for an eye, was lying upon the lap of a vixen. The vixen's gaze was focused upon the dirtied windows, her elbow pressing into the chair's armrest, her hand drumming its fingers against her cheek.

The vixen was clothed in a dulled, torn jeans and a ripped leather jacket. A dirtied, plaid cap was settled upon her head, before it was removed by the vixen's hand when her gaze drifted to the other two, "Oh, you're not dead." Sam gestures towards the smiling vixen, "My sister, Tom. Tom, this is Tila." Tila offers a small smile and a short nod, while Tom waves a bit erratically. Sam shakes his head, as he swipes the hat off of Tom's head, shaking it in front of her, "What did I say about wearing my hat?" Tom blows air through her lips, "Phbbb; I can have it when I find my own run-down apartment with moldy furniture? Or maybe it was when you ran into a trap, fit for a bear?" Sam shakes his head, pulling his hood down, and plopping the cap upon his head, "You're making me out to be a victim. A real, bleeding victim, and it hurts that you'd conspire against me." Tom picks up the book from her lap and sets it upon the armrest as she stands up, "Initiative comes to thems that wait, o brother."

Tila stops looking over the edge of the floor, her gaze drifting between the two siblings. Tom's arm extends and her hand draws downward, "Oh, don't worry about that darling. We just, haven't found enough bags to fill it in. But we will, one day, one day." Tila offers a small nod, before Tom's hand gestures towards the nearby chair, patting it twice, "You may sit here, if you want. Its what we did, or it's one of us did until recently." Tila opens her mouth, but closes it, as Sam coughs, politely, "Don't mind her. Her head is always in books, so that she doesn't have to face reality." Tom places her hands upon her hips, as her eyebrows cross, "Don't you have a shop to run? Somewhere else, somewhere where we can't see you?"

Sam opens his mouth to respond, but callings of, "Boss! Boss!" interrupt him. Turning towards the hole in the wall, he places a hand against the rubble, "What is it my good brothers?" The other called out, "He's acting up again!" Sam's face became dour, turning towards the other two, "I'll see to our bed-ridden brother. Don't cause any trouble." Tom rolls her eyes, looking about, "Trouble with the rubble, brother?" Tila places a hand in front of her mouth, her facial features worried. Tom shrugs, off-handedly, "It's best not to worry about those droogs. They've been chopped at before. Now sit, please, else I be the worst of hosts." She pats the chair again, seating herself upon the torn armrest.

Tila looks to the chair, and after a long pause, seats herself slowly within it. Tom's shoulder idly laid itself upon Tila's, her hands trailing through the air, twisting and turning their fingers, "Do you know what I dreamed of, today?" Tila's head shakes her head, her eyes shifting towards the window. Tom shoots a glance towards Tila, smirking to herself, "A nice bakery, with fresh buns and clean seats. Where I can wear an apron, and see to my customers, both human and not. You know, that's my dream." Tom's head nods to herself, her eyes finding the book again, "So, have you ever read a book before? They're actually really fun, once you learn how to read them."

Tila shakes her head, "I haven't. I don't know how." Tom's ears perk up, her lips pulling into a smile, "Well, you're in luck! I'm very skilled. Reading things is practically my job." Tom's form leaned across Tila's lap, her hand outstretched, "Just have to reeach-oops!" Tila's gaze drifted elsewhere, her cheeks reddening softly, until her eyes open. Tom half-stumbles, her hand pushing down upon the slim fabric covering Tila's crotch. Tila's nose flares, her back pressing into the torn chair, "It's. It's okay. Accidents happ--" Tom's hand pushes down against and rolls against the heated balls, her tail shaking slightly, "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!" Before Tila's arms could remove Tom's hand, Tom falls into the zebra's lap, "All of that reading has made me so, so light-headed. Sorry!"

Tila's nose released a short breath, her hands slowly settling themselves upon the nearby armrests, "I didn't know it di--" Her rump rolls back into the seat, a soft whinny escaping her lips. Tom's hand had squeezed the thickening cock's base, the mottled tip and girth escaping the thin fabric, following the curve of the zebra's stomach. Tom's head nods, as her eyes roll in place, "Oh yeah, all the time. A real tragedy." Tom's hand pushes against Tila's median ring, as her form rights itself upon the edge of the armrest. Her left hand slides itself into the zebra's undergarments, her palm rolling one of the large balls, her eyes staring at Tila's flushed face.

Tila's snout turned to the side, as her legs lifted and settled themselves a foot apart, her flared tip expanding slowly against the underside of her darkly clothed breasts. Tom smiled to herself, her pointer finger drawing itself slowly down the cock's veins, "I find you very fascinating..we don't get many mix-genders around here.." Tila's cock released a drop of pre-cum against her bra, her tail slapping itself into the tattered chair. Tom's chest lifts upwards, before she exhales a slow breath, "I've been waiting for the day I'd get my hands on one of their experiments." Tom's finger pulls the zebra's bra downwards, until it snaps back into place, her finger wetting itself upon the zebra's flared tip. Grasping it lightly, Tom wiggles it to-and-fro, "But, I can't just dirty the only clothes I have. So you'll just have to wait a little more, okay?"

Tila's eyes open, a crow flying by the window. Her gaze drifts towards Tom, as she slides off of the armrest. Turning to face the heavily breathing zebra, Tom's hands move to unzip her ragged jeans, kicking them off to cover the nearby backpack. Her hand draws itself along the fur near her sex's lips, her rump sticking outward, and her legs swaying slightly, "Too bad I don't want children, right?" Tila's eyes stare at the vixen's hand, watching it curve about her thin thigh. Tom stands upright, her arms drawing themselves inward, before tossing the jacket to the side. Her form lay bare, as it approached the Tila's slowly, "You, and me. Hell doesn't have to be without a little romance."

Tila's hands tighten their grip upon the armrest, as Tom's knees met her sides, her breasts pinning the flared cock's tip between the two. Tom's hands settled themselves upon the zebra's cheeks, her eyebrows lifting upwards. Her face moves slowly towards Tila's, as Tila's eyes close and her lips move to pucker. Tom's breath escapes her lips against Tila's, before her head pulls back quickly, her hands grasping at Tila's breasts. A whinny bounces off of the walls, as Tom's snout pushes itself between Tila's breasts, releasing snorts and flicks of her tongue against the flesh there. Tom's head rights itself, as her hands touch her cheeks, "They're so warm.." Tila's eyes open, her nose releasing a heated snort.

Tom's hands reach behind Tila, unsnapping the zebra's bra, "Best be quick. Don't know when one of those droog's'll come up here." Tossing the bra to the side, Tom's lips kiss the left, then right breast. Her legs wrap around Tila's, as her sex presses itself against the cock's base, the large balls settling underneath Tom's rump, "Nice, and, comfy.." Tom's hands seize the zebra's cock, a soft whinny and snort following, before her tongue curls itself against the flared head, her eyes focused upon Tila's closing eyes. Rolling the tongue against the roof of her mouth, Tom's lips pull into a smile, "Mm.."

Tom's fingers circled underneath Tila's flared tip, drawing themselves downward, as her hips rocked upward, her breasts and sex drawing themselves along the mottled flesh. Her tongue swirled itself around spongy head, before her forehead pressed itself in between the zebra's breasts. Her snout stretched around the cock head, as her cheeks sucked inward. Drawing her head to the left, and to the right, Tom's hand grabbed Tila's cock around the median ring, squeezing firmly, until Tila released a startled snort. Tila's open eyes slowly closed, as her head tilted upwards against the back of the chair.

Tom's mouth released Tila's cock to press its lips against the side of it, trailing kisses downward. Her legs settled upon the trash below, as her tongue curls outward against the underside of one ball, then the other. Tila neighs louder, as Tom's hands squeeze the base of her cock, massaging upwards to squeeze pre-cum out of its tip. Drawing her cheek along the sticky, spongy head, her eyes rolling as a throaty moan escapes her throat, "That's good, but I want something else.." Tom's mouth opens wide, as her lips close about the zebra's cockhead, her waist settling into the zebra's lap once more. Her hips push her sex against the zebra's cock in feverish humps, as her left hand pushes into Tila's breast, moving it in a slow circle, while her other hand pumps the engorged cock.

Tila's toes curl upward, as her legs began to shake. Her whinnies grew louder, until her balls pulled up tightly, the first cumshot catching within Tom's mouth and throat. Tom pulls back, a slight cough, before she swallows, cum colliding into her chin. What didn't stick there dripped off, before Tom's mouth closes about the zebra's cock, her right hand drawing her thumb slowly along the thickest vein. Tom's nose releases its breaths upon the spongy head, as her lips pursed about the cock's hole, her throat rippling softly as she swallowed. After a few minutes, Tom's hand grabbed Tila's cock, drawing the softening cockhead along her cheeks and chin. Tila released in smaller bouts, as her chest slowed, "That was..."

Tom's hand wiggles the zebra's cock, her teeth showing as she smiled, "Filling, but I'm starved you see." Her stomach was partially rounded, showing as she stood up upon the tattered chair. Tom's tail swishes outward, as Tila stares at the vixen's stomach, swallowing air audibly. Tom's hand drew itself along Tila's cheek, her eyebrows lifting upwards suggestively, "Wouldn't you like to show me a little more? But we must be quick.."

Downstairs, in the adjacent building, Sam's eyes surveyed the splotched blankets upon the wounded raccoon and then the wet cloth upon his forehead. Patting his side softly, Sam looks to the others, "He's with fever, friends. We're going to need the cleanest liquids in the neighborhood. Shoot for the orange juice and keep him covered." A few wolves offered nods, as Sam points towards a small group of scaled fellows, "Get ready to go shopping. We're leaving soon." Sam pulls the hood of his hoody up, a roughed-up ferret moving to gather pieces of pipes and chain.

Tom's hands held Tila's knees tightly, her rump upwards, "Give it a quick lick, before you get too hard for me." Tila's hands settled themselves upon the red fur, her large tongue dabbing itself upon Tom's tail hole, once, then twice. Her eyes close, as her thick tongue forces itself inward. Tom's eyes close, as her hands tighten their grip, "Ah, damn!" Her sex drips idly upon Tila's chest and cockhead. Tila large hand grasps Tom's tail, pulling it aside, as her tongue punches into the soft flesh.

Sam takes the lead, placing the bloodied pipe's end into his gloved hand. Behind him, two wolves, a ferret, and three muscled lizards. The mid-afternoon sky hung above them, as they rounded a corner. A shoddy convenience store, a few apartments, and even fewer warehouses lined the streets. As the hooded figures approached the store, the attendant looked outside, setting his dirty magazine upon the countertop, "Shit." His hand slides underneath the counter, thumb pushing in a button as the bell above the door chimes. Muzzles and snouts under dark cloth met his gaze and he held his hands up, "Just take what you want."

Tom's hand touched the trash around the chair, as her other hand grabbed the zebra's limp cock, "Just stay like this, a little longer.." Her hand guided the spongy head towards her gaping tailhole, pushing it slowly inward. Tila's hands gripped the armrests tightly, as Tom's fingers pushed against her cockhead. After a few minutes, the flared tip sinks into Tom's rump, both throats releasing moans. Tom's rump moves in a half circle, before her hands push against the trash. Her ass draws close to Tila's median ring, before the cock begins to harden within and outside of Tom's heated insides. Tila's chest lifted and fell rapidly, as her eyes stared at Tom's rump, the flesh of her cock standing stiff as Tom's form rocked away, and then towards Tila's lap, pre-cum gathering upon the mottled flesh.

Sam and the others arrive at the warehouse, Sam's hand pounding on the entrance twice, "Open up, my fellow droogs. We've brought gifts." The others had their pockets stuffed with heat-packets, their hands holding milk cartons and gallons of orange juice. Two wolves on the other side grasp the bar, pushing it, as the door slides open. A few others moved to take the gallons of milk and orange juice, settling them in the raccoon's room. Sam moves to the raccoon's side, "It'll be alright, brother. Just a few nights rest, and it'll be better."

Tom's rump pushes itself towards the large balls, a lump protruding along her rounded stomach. Tila's gaze was locked upward and closed, her breathing heavy. Tom settled within Tila's lap, as her hands curled their fingers along Tila's balls, her rump bouncing lightly upon the mottled cock, "Ah-almost there, just a little more.." Tom moves to crouch above Tila's form, the slick cock slowly leaving her gaping anus. The median ring shows, and Tom's hand grasped the remaining length, her legs shaking visibly. Tila releases a held breath, before inhaling sharply, her mane tossing, as Tom slides downwards, her wet fur meeting the zebra's balls. Tila grabs Tom's hips, as her form shakes, her flared tip opening within Tom's tailhole, her balls lifting to warm Tom's fur. Tom's sex splashes the fabric of the chair, as Tila's cum gathers inside of Tom. Tom lifts a hand to her lips, as a little escapes her, before her back falls against Tila's front, her arms dangling off of the armrests, "Now, I'm tired. Its naptime."

Sam walks towards the ladder up, when a voice over a megaphone was heard, "This is the police, and we have the building surrounded. Come out with your hands where we can see them, or we will use force." The lieutenant lowers the megaphone, looking past the line of officers in riot gear, their shields raised, facing the warehouse. Standing behind them, Officer Marcel lifted his cigar to his dry lips. Underneath his blue, police cap, his comb-over accented his weathered and uninterested expression. A polished badge was pinned to his breast. A standard-issued glock was settled in its holster on his hip. The lieutenant clears his throat, before he offers a nod towards Marcel's shifting focus, "Sir, is a sniper really necessary? The witness said that they weren't carrying firearms."

Marcel's gaze bore into the younger man, before he slowly lowers the cigar, "Are you questioning my command, lieutenant? I'd hate to put insubordination on your permanent record." The lieutenant becomes quiet, as his gaze returns to the warehouse, lifting the megaphone after a minute, "I repeat; this is the police. Come out with your hands where we can see them, or we will use force." Inside the warehouse, the droogs started bombarding each other with questions, "Oh, shit, what do we do? How did they find us? Boss? Boss?!" Sam moved towards the ladder, tossing the metal cup to the side, his hands on the metal bars, "Stall them!" Quieter, "I have to get my sister out of here.."

Two of the lizards started talking between themselves, in the raccoon's room, "I hear they give you free food in jail. And a bed. The floor just isn't as comfortable as it was; and I hate the smell of rubbage." The other lizard nods his agreement, "And we didn't kill anyone; that was all the boss. It'll fall on his head, right?" The first lizard shrugs offhandedly, his hands pulling his hood down, "I'm going outside.." The other lizard looks between the arguing droogs, before he follows. When they put their shoulders into the large door, and when it slowly slides open, the droogs all became silent. They watched their two brothers walk outside.

Officer Marcel's breathe exhales smoke from the sides of his lips, as he watches two darkly dressed lizards slowly lift their hands above their heads. As they near a meter from the door, he lifts his hand and points his fingers towards the entrance, "Have at them, boys." The two lizards slow their pace, the first lizard looking to his fellow brother, as his form slowly to the side. Marcel's hand shifted his glock towards the other lizard, the bullet tearing through scales and brain tissue. Blood pools from the lizards' skulls, as heavy boots and riot shields charged over their bodies. The lieutenant stares in shock.

Sam crossed the makeshift bridge, ducking around the broken wall. His eyes fall on Tila and Tom, looking towards Tom's bulbous stomach, "This isn't the time to be reproducing. The police are outside!" Tom's hand pushes the words away, her eyes fluttering open, "It's the natural contraceptive, I'm fi--" Her form rocks forward, as Tila's hands steady the vixen's form, clasping her hips, "The police? Are you sure?" Two gunshots ring into the building, and a silence followed. Sam's ears were raised, like the others', but he shook his head, "We have to get out of here. They're going to kill us." Pointing towards the drop-off, "That way, move it!"

Tila's eyes stared wide-eyed at the hole in the wall, before Tom pushed against her thighs. Her cum-soaked cock limply fell from Tom's tail hole, laying itself to the side in her lap. Tom's hands settled themselves on the underside of her bloated belly, waddling towards the edge. She jumps, landing within the pile of trash bags below. A wet spot of spent cum formed upon the foremost bag, and she rolled to the side. Sam gestures towards the edge, "You go next. I'll take care of the bridge." Tila nods, swallowing. Her form stands shakenly, as she gathers Tom's pants and her undergarments. Her form leans over the edge, a drop of cum landing upon the trash bags below. She holds the clothing to her chest, before jumping into the pile. Sam's boot collides into the side of the plank bridge, the wood falling in between the two buildings.

The droogs and police clash, chains and pipes meeting the riot shield barricade. The officers catch the droog's legs and cheeks with their batons, a pipe lodging itself into the upper edge of a riot shield, its owner moving to find another weapon until his blood splatters against the dented shield. A wolf falls backwards, as Officer Marcel steps inside the warehouse, his lieutenant following shortly behind. His eyes stared forward, as officers subdued the droogs, "Record these animals as rabid, lieutenant. Their hostility had to be dealt with force." The lieutenant nods, blinking once, as Marcel's gun fires again.

Tom leans over, dragging a bag away from the back door, her form straightening, "Ugh, I'm so sore.." Placing a hand upon her stomach, she watches Tila place the clothing stash upon the ground nearby, her larger hands grasping two bags and tossing them from the door. Sam lands upon the pile of trash behind them, rolling over and striding purposefully to the backdoor. Sam tosses bags towards the left, as Tila tosses them to the right. Tom steps forward and grasped the wrench pulling it downwards and pushing the door open. Sam points towards the right, "Down this alley, move it!" Sam leads the way, his hood falling down as he sprints. Tila nods, before moving back to collect the clothing into her arms, while Tom waddles after Sam.

The officers smash the side of the last droog's face, as he attempts to stand up, his furred hands tied behind his back with a zip tie. The droogs were lined up, bloodied and bruised, their heads hung low and their hands tied. Officer Marcel's gaze drifts from their forms to the lieutenant, as he returns from the side room, "Sir, there's an injured beast on a stretcher." Marcel offers a slow nod, "I'll deal with it." One of the droogs snarls and starts to stand up, before Marcel's glock aims downward, a bullet lodging itself into the ferret's knee-cap. He falls upon his face, snarling in pain, as Marcel gestures towards them with his head, "If any of them move, beat them." The other officers ready their shields and batons, as Marcel strolls towards the side room.

The radio in Marcel's pocket goes off, and he digs it out, his thumb holding a button down, "What was that?" Standing over the raccoon's stretcher, he lifts it to his ear, an officer answering, "I have movement in the East alleyway. Three beasts. One appears to be pregnant. The one in the lead is the target." Marcel's head nods to himself, his gaze drifting towards the bleary-eyed raccoon, "There's been a change in the plan. Let the target go with a tagging." The officer's voice answered him, "Sir?" Marcel's hand pushed his pistol's barrel into damp cloth covering the raccoon's head, the raccoon releasing a weak cry, "With the chief missing, we'll need a replacement. Who better than the officer that brings a vengeful, wifeless beast to justice?" The radio answers with a "Yes, sir." Setting the radio within his pocket, Marcel stares into the raccoon's eyes. The raccoon slowly shakes his head, his voice quiet, "No, no.." Marcel lifts his eyebrow, before his glock discharges, the raccoon's head laying limply upon the blankets beneath it. The cloth upon his head became slowly soaked with blood.

Sam slows his pace, placing his back against a large dumpster. Tila's cock swings freely, as she catches up. She settles her rump against the dumpster, the clothing pressed against her heaving chest. Sam bends downward to grasp his knees, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. He looks down the alley, as Tom trots after them, "Hurry up! Quickly now, so I can have the time to think of a diet for you." Tom rolls her eyes, as she walks towards them, "I get it, no more cock." Her form froze, her eyes open. Sam's form straightens, slowly, as his eyebrows cross, "Tom?" Tom's form falls forward, blood pooling from a hole in the middle of her head, an empty Fritos bag beneath her head. Sam moves slowly towards Tom's body, his eyes painfully open, "Tom? Tom!" Falling to his knees near her head, his hands grabbing at her fur, his form hunching over her, "Tom! No! Tom!" Tila stares, her standing still, as Sam's hand cradled Tom's bleeding head to his chest. His tears roll off of his snout for several, long seconds.

Sam's shoulder became punctured with large dart, his hand dropping the back of Tom's head, grasping at his hoody, "Dammit! I've been hit.." Ripping the dart and tossing it aside, Sam's lips pulled into a snarl, stirring Tila, "We need to get out of here!" Standing, his hand clenching his shoulder, "Follow me..I'll get us out of here." Tila nods, her nose releasing a loud sniff. Her shoulder brushed against her wet cheeks, before she turned to follow Sam's form. Sam's face was twisted in anger, "Tom.." Their forms become darker, as the sun sets.