FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“You smell wonderful, tonight.”

A long whiff followed the affirmation, then a lukewarm breath against the brown fur. Then another, along the lines of the caresses over his furry back and chest. Massive clawed fingers danced over his torso but with a cautious presence that… made Splinter sigh. He melted against that chest, welcoming the strokes and caresses while he leaned against something that was trustworthy and didn’t ask too much of him. He needed it, had to…

Stoicism could go so far when he had heard of all the adventures his sons encountered and more. As if… As if it wasn’t enough for them to fight criminals during the night, they had to fight aliens, monsters, and ghosts sometimes. From their recounting, he had died twice already, and the earth had been narrowly invaded.

He managed to control his mind, as this was the ninja’s way: not to let emotions overcome him. But it was hard, terribly hard.

Relief was more than welcome and appreciated. Even if it were at the hand of a creature, he would have never guessed to share a bond before… This.

“I used lavender. It has a strong but soothing scent,” explained Splinter as he reached for that elongated muzzle to stroke it. Beneath his digits, the scales were fresh and smooth. A bit less atop, with all those scutes growing and giving Leatherhead an aged look.

This was… Yes. Another brand of problem. Splinter was old, but Leatherhead was older through the Kraangs’ machination. His scales had started to go gray—a change from before, from the earlier days of their relationship. It had only been a few months for Splinter, but Leatherhead had experienced decades—decades he was relentlessly trying to catch up with.

Much like… Those fingers finding Splinter’s raw and sensitive nipples. He had barely managed to scrub Sliver’s scent off. But for the other issues? Under his robe, his ass remained sore and desperately attempting to clench. His rubbed nipples were like electric buttons sending shocks through the Rat’s body.

As for his cock, it was desperately needy, but… Soft. Happily enough.

“I like it. You should use it more often,” commented Leatherhead with another sigh and a whiff before he let go of Splinter, allowing the rat to put on his robe properly and cover his shoulders.

Without a word exchanged, Splinter followed through Leatherhead’s lair. A new one, a comfier one than even his own. The place looked closer to a cave, albeit linked to New York’s sewer system. However, Air conditioning kept the atmosphere fresh and breathable. The furnishing was new, recent even in that large cave, and a few dry walls had been added as a separation.

More than that, the tall ceiling allowed Leatherhead to strut at his full height, towering above Splinter and making him feel… Smaller, punnier. And yet, protected?

“Is this a coffee machine?” asked Splinter, curious about the new appliance on their way to Leatherhead’s lab.

“I had April get it for me. In case I have guests,” answered Leatherhead. A gentle idea, even if the coffee machine would be gathering dust unless Leatherhead’s crew decided to welcome themselves. Splinter shrugged as he followed his partner into his lab… Much like Donatello’s, Leatherhead had started to pick up a hobby. Or alas, in gathering knowledge about Kraang’s technological advancements. And in which he seemed fairly adequate. Splinter’s eyes drifted left and right, his hands joining behind him as he was curious and intrigued. But didn’t voice it.

“It took me a few weeks,” said Leatherhead, butting in as he turned with a syringe in hand. “But I have it ready.”

For a moment, Splinter froze while he observed the syringe. It was…filled with a purple liquid, dripping from the tip. It was a chemical compound. But of what nature? The old Rat frowned at it, surprised. Then back at Leatherhead.

“Is there a problem?” asked the latter.

“Hmm… What. Is this for?” asked Splinter. Before he frowned some more… Maybe Sliver hadn’t told him everything about that date.

“It was… Huh. For the eggs. Do you remember our talk?”

“I must have forgotten it,” suddenly sighed Splinter, reaching for his forehead. Jungling with Sliver was harder if his partner constantly hid details from him.

“We can do without,” turned Leatherhead, probably to put everything back. “Cuddles and-“

“No, this is fine,” butted in Splinter. He didn’t want to sour the relationship. He didn’t want Leatherhead’s efforts to go to waste. Nor to disappoint him. He sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry. The last months have been difficult. I am still worrying about my sons.”

Leatherhead remained silent for a moment, though Splinter sensed a quiver when he reached for that powerful back—that back that had endured so many torments. Then, he pressed his palm against it.

“We will… Do it. You must have toiled hard for this. Why don’t you explain the details to me?”

Leatherhead remained still, maybe lost in his thoughts or reflecting. In a way, revealing everything to Leatherhead about Sliver would make everything easier—and yet, more complicated.

Finally, the Crocodile’s shoulders dropped and a mighty sigh emanated from him. He turned, and those golden eyes were over Splinter, smiling.

“I’d be happy to, my love.”

Splinter’s heart nearly skipped a beat, but he dared to smile back, just a smirk, while they walked to the bedroom. Due to Leatherhead’s size, no bed was adequate… Instead, the bed could be like a tatami covered with drapes and sheets, linked to a system of heated pipes below.

When he reclined on it, Splinter instantly felt the rush of heat against his skin and muscles. Merely sleeping or lying on it called for his bestial instincts to stretch and sleep on it. Instincts, he rebuffed, instead to watch Leatherhead.

The massive Crocodile was a bounty for the eyes. By some strange standards, Splinter appreciated the strong shoulders, wide back, and graying scales covered with scars. His shape was that of a man… beast—or both plagued by experience and conflict.

Splinter reached for one of the Crocodile’s hands, inviting him to join and sit by him while he stroked the back of said hand. Scar tissues covered it, forcing Leatherhead to bandage it regularly. But it didn’t deter Splinter from stroking that hand, feeling the smooth scales against his glabrous fingers.

“So… Tell me.”

And Leatherhead spoke, his rough voice almost sounding melodious as it explained the concept.

“I have theorized the Kraang mutations could be temporary through using a stabilized mutagen of my creation. It serves as a catalyzer for extracting the genome of a few species, presently Avians. Then, with the documentation Donatello provided me, I isolated the sequence attributed to the development of a shell gland. But, even with it, most subjects wouldn’t develop the organ correctly. Some would even have-“

“I… Could you explain to me what this shell gland is and why you need the genes of avians?”

The interruption stopped Leather, who reached for his chin, taping it with part of the syringe but not the needle. Thoughtful, his eyes wandered to the ceiling and then down.

“I want to create an organ that could produce eggshells for… Our children. I preferred to work with Avians as it is easier to get their genomes than crocodiles. And. No, my genes cannot be used,” said Leatherhead, correcting himself as soon as Splinter’s mouth was about to open. “I worked to help you produce eggs. To have everything needed for it.”

“It is... Working?”

Leatherhead nodded along, smiling back to Splinter, then leaned and brought a kiss to the Rat’s muzzle.

“It’s working. It might be temporary and not perfect, but it is. We could do it tonight.”

Again, Splinter watched the syringe, the needle glistening in the light. It could be dangerous, but he had been… desiring it. No, both had been desiring it. They had their families, but nothing shared between them, an unequivocal bond.

“Do it,” Splinter confirmed, undoing his robes enough to uncover his shoulders and present them to Leatherhead, who... shook his head.

“Sorry. Since the Mutagen is stabilized, it doesn’t work well unless I inject it near the… Site.”

“The site?”

“Your posterior, or your groin. Those are the points where the Mutagen will be the most efficient.”

Again. It made sense, but Leatherhead’s request produced a slight frown. Then, he undid his belt entirely. It wasn’t the first time he had stripped before his lover. Nor it would be the last. But there was something that tickled Splinter the wrong way when he stripped. Maybe his body that was so different from his former self. The shame of it? Or the intimacy it caused?

He gritted his teeth while he finished his removal… His robes dropped, revealing the canvas of brown, dark, and gray fur all over his body: intermingled shapes twisting together, much like the mask over his face.

He exhaled, watching those yellow eyes wander over his lean shape, the muscles dry and coiling under the strands. Splinter was nothing of fat; he had been ascetic to a crime. And… As he lay still and naked, he felt a bit exposed.

Exposed when Leatherhead’s scalies hand reached between his legs, stroked the interior of his thighs, and passed a thumb against them, brushing the skin but nothing further, nothing inadequate.

“Deep breaths.”

As ordered, Splinter took a long and deep breath. Leatherhead’s fingers were still over his thigh, passing sometimes on the upperside and giving them a tender feel. Nothing extreme, nothing that could hurt. No, the massive Crocodile remained gentle, his claws minded while his progress went over the waist, brushing the Fundoshi Splinter had kept on, nearly tugging on the fabric, then he had his index pressing the lower belly. Right where the pubes started to point and appear, forming a joint with the jutting chest and belly hair.

“Here,” whispered Leatherhead, his lukewarm breath over the torso, brushing and stroking the hair.

“Here?” repeated Splinter, an ounce of fear within his voice yet… He tried to remain trustful of Leatherhead, of his partner. He sighed. “Here.”

“Here.”

Then, the syringe approached his lower belly. He instinctively contracted it, expecting the pain of a blade. A contraction that would worsen the sensation and make it more difficult. A contraction undone by a mere brush against Splinter’s cheeks and a finger offered, one… the Rat licked, as a reflex. He licked it, abandoning himself to that reflex. Bestial. He kissed that finger, then passed on the second, his glabrous digits holding his lover’s hand close and ready while… The other was pressed and planted, inserted and pushed, and injected.

Cold was the liquid and the sensation that infused within Splinter’s lower belly. It was akin to a flow or a river that followed a pulse, his pulse, his heartbeat. By its presence, the meridians were set afire while the coldness spread within and deeper. It took and spread its roots.

He hissed, tensing his neck and attempting to recover the hold he had over his body, whether it was his burdened and accelerated heart. Or the contractions scouring his body and stealing shudders.

“Is this too much?”

Within the echoing sensations, of nerves attempting to understand the signals, within the frost and fire melding as one… Within the squirming and fight Splinter had in maintaining what his body did, there was a firm and offered hand. One Splinter held on, his anchor within his moment as much as that golden gaze over him.

“This is but a fleeting moment, a pain that will pass and wash away. I can bear it,” said Splinter in a soft voice as he offered his lover’s finger another kiss and another lick.

In so, he attempted to meditate and ease off his mind and body. The first by separating it from the body, leaving behind anxiety and horror. As for the second, by ordaining the muscles to still and not move as unnecessary.

He was of two parts, holding everything together against what would grow to be a tidal wave of foreign chemicals. It assaulted and invaded every spot and place it hadn’t touched yet. It was… Closer to an invasion than anything else, and as that invasion spread, Splinter was intimately aware of what changed.

His stomach churned with an unearthly yearning, a bulging pressure that pressed against his organs but not the way he had experienced at Sliver’s hands nor Leatherhead’s. It was closer to a rearrangement, a growth, an explosion of sensations as nerves grew and muscles developed, and organs were forced to adapt and take up as little space as possible. He gasped, feeling something form within. And weight. A weight closer to the toys and plugs he had been forced to wear. A shift of paradigm that suddenly sounded the halt of that chemical assault. His body… Relaxed.

Pain ceased. The frost and fire dissipated and left him… Abandoned him sweaty and exhausted, his voice and breath raspy while the light above him was blinding. Yet, he found himself… His head rested in Leatherhead’s lap.

“How long was I… gone?” he asked, surprised while the Crocodile’s muzzle turned down, those teeth glimmering.

“A dozen minutes, if not more. You suddenly stopped moving.”

Splinter sighed, bringing a hand to his belly.

His pulse had calmed, and so did his breath. The pressure within his stomach remained, but it was almost a dulled sensation once his nerves had fully formed and their heightened sensations lessened. He stroked the fur, finding the skin below lukewarm but not taken by any fever. His organs were differently arranged; he could perceive them. Likewise, there was a strange sensation of wetness in his colon. Yes. And some of it had spread outward between his cheeks. But clean.

“I had to control myself and meditate. But the effect should have passed.”

It seemed so. No more strange pulse, albeit its departure had left him excited and needy. As proven by his fundoshi. The white fabric tensed from within, and from the frotting, a damp spot had formed at the tip.

“For the next trial… We could use painkillers, Splinter,” whispered Leatherhead, a gentle offer.

“No. The pain makes me fully aware of what has changed. I prefer keeping my mind sharp during that instant and… With you.”

With a gentle smile, the Rat reached up to stroke his lover’s jaw, finding the scutes along the cream scales. He passed an index along the bone’s indent. And smiled, even exhaled as relief overtook him. He felt heavier, yes, but relaxed, too. A meddle of both experiences he savored but for a second before… He gritted his teeth. Pain. No. Not pain. A muscle he had never sensed before.

“What is it?” asked Leatherhead, his hand going over Splinter’s chest, stroking it and reaching down…

His eyes widened as he also sensed the current shift within his guts. Contractions from within seemed to form a rippling wave that descended, pushing downward and outward something that was to come. Something both were aware, by knowledge or by that intimate experience.

“It’s… Happening,” sighed Splinter, his hand frantically moving down back to his fundoshi while he raised his legs. He spread them, the instep up while he opened his thighs, and one index hooked on the Fundoshi’s strap to pull it away from his hole.

From between his cheeks, from the sweat and lubricant-slathered crevice, the fur was damp, sticking to his skin while releasing a strong and musky aroma, closer to fresh leather and oil. Something he sniffed by grumbling.

“What is that?” he asked, by daring a digit in between and collecting the clear and yet musky liquid.

“Lubricant.”

An astute explanation and logic Splinter didn’t refute. He would need lubricant if Leatherhead’s desires… Their desires were to be satisfied. Even if his hole, right under his fingertip, had turned into quite the experienced orifice, he needed more than a mere toy to have it prepared. The rim might have swollen from the abuse, might have taken a vertical slit, might even have become accustomed to fists.

But by the virtue of sensing the churning and pushing organs, Splinter knew he needed lubricant.

And he needed. Help.

He needed it as the contraction within him slowed down and stopped, going from a frantic push to a sluggish pace. One that barely put a dent in the position where the “weight” and pressure were currently settled. He blinked at it, daring a finger onto the spot only to… Press it. A mistake he regretted when his sore guts sent back a sliver of pain, just an instant, that wracked his brain and scrambled his thoughts for a moment.

“Ah!”

“Splinter!?!” asked Leatherhead, his low voice resounding in the cave. However, a raised hand halted the Crocodile’s anxiety as Splinter sighed and exhaled.

“It’s… it’s expected. Let… let me do this,” he ordained while he grabbed on his legs, keeping them spread. Then, he exhaled and closed his eyes.

He closed himself to the outside, only to turn his gaze inward and sense the soreness within. He gritted his teeth but continued to sink in until he was aware of the muscles currently attempting to push the egg. Muscles after muscles formed a wave that barely possessed the strength from the first pushes.

He grasped the sensation the newfound tunnel gave him. In return, he grasped the control of the contraction. One long breath in, and he… Pushed. He squeezed that part of his abdominal guts, something that wasn’t here before. He pushed while the weight within the duct advanced. One push, and it slipped. But at each pause, it nearly slipped back.

And it slipped at first. Then, at the second push, at the third. It was a Sisyphean task.

There was no pause, no way to halt the progress.

“Hold my hand,” groaned Splinter while he took another inspiration. The hand, the lukewarm palm, slipped against his thighs and under one hand until he had to give up on that leg, solely to have his lover’s support instead, twice. Twice.

He sighed, strengthening his grip over his body. Air escaped through his teeth as he contracted.

One, two, three, fourth! He contracted them at a pace and felt their soreness combat his order, but they gave in. Those muscles allowed the weight to advance until he inhaled, and all that pressure stopped, all his order. But the weight had been pushed further.

“Y-“

“Allow me to continue,” groaned Splinter.

He didn’t snap, but such solicitude wasn’t needed yet. He preferred having his lover focus entirely on the exit rather than his actions. Therefore, he gritted his teeth. He took another shallow breath, expired. And finally, he filled his lungs until they were hurting from the pressure his guts forced on them. They burned… But so did his sphincter as he contracted and cried. One. Two. Three. Four. And a sigh.

Again, a sigh as the weight had passed from his abdominal muscles to his lower belly and… With it, the sensation started to become familiar and pleasing.

That mere volatile thought sent a shiver through… But he pushed it down, daring not to entertain Sliver’s perceptions as he took another shallow breath. He didn’t allow himself a break as he pushed. One. Two. Three. A nudge. He stopped. He was almost at his limit.

And at the threshold.

Not of his orifice; that one wasn’t near the weight yet.

No. Of his swollen prostate. He had sensed the egg giving it a nudge, enough for his hardened cock to pulse and for a precum spurt to hit the fundoshi. That… That egg, as it could only be one, was so wide a mere tap nearly pushed Splinter to his limit.

“A-Almost,” he whispered, nothing but an exhalation while taking another breath before his worried lover.

He had to finish, to push it through. And… He contracted. He contracted and cried. His body cried when his prostate was suddenly crushed and his groin set afire. Perhaps it was a remnant of the chemicals, but a burst of fire and cold spread within Splinter’s lower belly. It started up near the first spot the egg had hit. But it developed into more…

Into a blaze that immersed itself through everything: his scrotum, his asshole, even his cocktip. Everything was touched by its presence, graced by that cold fire.

He cried, throwing his head back while his prostate was forcefully contracted, and… yet, an orgasm passed over Splinter. He cried, his voice so raspy and loud it could maybe be heard through the walls.

But he had to let it, for his body didn’t allow that orgasm to remain quiet. And what an orgasm. One so potent it forced cum out of that cock, from that urethra, and through the fundoshi Splinter still wore.

When Splinter returned to himself, it was to notice the Fundoshi, drippy, sticking to his fur. And the weight that remained within. His hands were all over his belly, trying to adjust to the sudden orgasm and surprise he had sensed. His eyes… He blinked them, focusing on Leatherhead above, who smiled back while passing a thumb over the Rat’s right cheek.

No words were exchanged, but Splinter appreciated such solicitude and gave Leatherhead a warm smile. One he kept as he looked down and glanced upon his round lower belly.

The egg was still there, at the threshold with his prostate. He sighed, his body tensing while he outstretched his legs further.

“I will finish it. This is my body, my responsibility,” muttered Splinter while his hands descended to graze the bulging shape but nothing more. He didn’t squeeze or press on it. He merely grazed it, then sighed while throwing his head back. His cock wasn’t hard anymore; he felt spent, his testicles lighter.

However, it would continue as he focused on his inner walls once more, and… he clenched.

One muscle, one exhausted muscle which, contracted and forced the shell to slip forward. It stole another gasp, a hissed gasp, through Splinter’s gritted teeth. But the Rat endured while his contraction continued, and another one closed upon the egg or attempted to. A push, a nudge. And the whole rotund surface pressed up on the prostate. His cock, soft and spent, suddenly sprouted back to life. He closed his eyes to the sensation but appreciated the sudden pleasure from the frotting cloth against his private parts nonetheless.

After such a potent orgasm and unasked, his erect shaft was quite sensitive and warm to the touch. Warm enough to be sensed through the fundoshi and to heat its inside, to produce a bit of steamy musk while the Rat bent and arched his body.

Through a mundane effort he could do during training and arduous in that moment, Splinter tensed his back. And pushed. Another muscle pushed while the first gave up. Beyond that, gravity started to pull on the egg, and its movements became regular as it descended along the inner walls. A slow progress, a steady one. A secure one for the old Rat as he allowed a smile to appear on his face as the egg had pushed past his prostate. Relief followed when the white surface crowned.

He gasped when his rim and asshole barely held onto the weight, keeping it inside. He gasped when the sudden pressure nearly yanked the rim out and would follow a prolapse. But he endured, despite the intense and foreign pain he felt. He… Endured, tensing his inner walls and lowering his backside. Slowly, ever so slowly, in steady progress until the arched back seemed more to be a sitting posture, with a half-squat. One with the egg poking and rubbing against the sheet.

“It’s almost out,” commented Leatherhead with a platitude and encouragement—one with more rubbing over Splinter’s sweaty fur, over those cheeks, and that jaw open.

“It is,” nodded Splinter as he opened his eyes upon Leatherhead and beckoned his mouth closer. He kissed the nearing muzzle, right between the nostrils, and… Gasped.

For a moment of weakness had passed, and the egg slipped, forced out by the last squirm and contraction he allowed. Then… As the will and strength dissipated, receding and leaving behind a drained Splinter, the old Rat dropped on his back while the egg rolled forward on the sheets, covered with fluids of all types. He didn’t recognize the consistency or the smell. He didn’t care either. Instead, he threw his head back on the pillow while focusing on his breath.

One long inspiration… Keeping it. Expiration until the lungs were empty.

“It’s a dud.”

“A dud?” answered Splinter, his voice sounding more raspy than usual. His body was strained, so was his breathing, and so was his mind as he turned towards Leatherhead with a surprised expression. “What is the meaning of-“

“It is a sterile egg, unfertilized,” explained Leatherhead as he grabbed the egg and lifted it before Splinter's eyes. It was a white egg with a perfect shell.

“They don’t weigh as much. And they’re slightly bigger,” explained Leatherhead. Yet, even if that egg had no value, he held it carefully, the two hands close by.

“And… What will we do with that one?”

Splinter watched his lover place the eggs on the corner of the bed. Before he returned to him. There, Splinter noted his Lover’s erection, a hard red cock poking from the slit he had between his legs, right above those swinging and heavy testicles. A sight the Rat admired as much as that nearing muzzle which kissed him, made him feel appreciated, tenderly cared for. He answered to the kiss, to the prodding tongue… And tugged on his fundoshi, pulling the wrought cloth away from his asshole to expose the gaping and dripping rim. Without feeling a breeze, Splinter was acutely aware of how gaped he was… How ready he was. How lubricated his asshole was. Ready to take Leather, to have that warm cockhead press within his asshole and… Force it open. He gasped, moaned… But he loved it all the same when he had that organ throbbing right by his prostate, almost entirely within.

With his legs spread, he was almost crushed under Leatherhead’s weight. But he didn’t complain. Not even when his thighs were burning. Rather, he sighed. And kissed that snout.

“Let’s fertilize the next ones,” said Leatherhead, his raspy breath against Splinter’s neck.

“Go on… Breed me, Leatherhead,” moaned the Rat. And then gasped when he was taken a mating press, soon to be remembered as one of his best dates with the Crocodile.