FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Ships came and went from the Val Salian bay. Dozens, hundreds maybe, all day, every day, laden with exotic spices, valuable textiles, gold, and all manner of valuables. But the eyes watching the docks from the alley didn't care about any of that nonsense, didn't care about treasure or trade. No, all it cared about was the other thing the ships brought, the one thing each and every one had: humans

They were the eyes of a predator, a hunter, a catcher. Dogs would bay and yowl and chase after a rat, overjoyed on the few, rare instances they caught the vermin. But they weren't rat catchers, they were merely lucky beasts. No, a rat catcher did just that, it catches rats, it didn't chase them. A catcher waits, a catcher watches, a catcher winnows through the herd and spies a vulnerable, juicy target and pounces.

The eyes widened, becoming glossy and bright as it spied its prey. The men off-loading from the ships were rough and hard, calloused from their brutal lives on the sea. Theirs was life of hardship, of frequent pain and rare respites. They took their pleasure where they found it. But even among these undiscerning men, precautions needed to be taken. Some fancied themselves cultured, or at least civilized, with delusions of standards strong enough to become outraged when challenged.

The eyes, well honed from years of hunting, could see this on a human's fan as clearly as one might see a nose or a beard, and could avoid them with ease. But a lack of standards wasn't the only thing to look for, far from it, but it was a start. Sailors were easy prey to a catcher of this caliber, a herd of slow, fat triplods to a hungry Baxxid. Cooped up in a wooden box with other rough, brutal men for months at a time, frustration was clear on every face filing off the ships and through the docks. The catcher could see hundreds of potential prey, it only needed to pick one

Ah.

There.

Perfect.

Tall, well built, perhaps 200lbs of hard, seafaring muscle beneath a taut layer of sun-bronzed skin, a light dusting of dark hair on his bare forearms and open chest. His face, while not handsome, was broad and masculine, with high cheekbones, a lantern jaw, and a cleft chin. His hair was thick and black, wavy like the sea, making his clear blue eyes stand out all the more.

A perfect start to the day.

Out of the alley strode a small, dainty yinglet. His blue-grey fur was clean and combed, unlike the matted, filthy scavs that could be seen prowling the docks for food and dropped wares. His snout was like his ears, short and rounded, his shell tooth a humble escutcheon of white poking out from his upper lip. Between his ears was a playfully coiffed tuft of blonde hair, combed and clean like the rest of him. He adjusted his pristine white calfskin vest and set off for the docks, his feather-decorated tail bobbing as he sashayed.

The Catcher wove through the crowd, weaving through a forest of legs, never losing sight of his prey. He waited patiently for the sailor to pull away from the herd. He was heading for the brothel district, hand at his belt where his purse hung, a sad, deflated thing. His pay was either meager or forthcoming upon the sale of his ship's wares. In either case, one hanging sack was near empty, while another was full to bursting. This was going to be easier than he thought.

The sailor looked around at the various cathouses, the painted ladies stood in the windows and on balconies, calling and beckoning to passersby. His eyes wistfully pulled away from the fancier establishments and cast further down the street to rough, cheaper joints. He sighed and moved to head onward towards a weak drink and a strong-smelling, crusty whore when a delicate 'ahem' drew his attention downward

Standing before him was a fancy little yinglet, his big pink eyes gazing up at him with something that was either adoration or sharklike hunger. “Hello hello, proud human! Can humble little Tuck interest you in his wares?"

“Fuck off, scav," the sailor snorted. “I've no coin to spare on trinkets."

“Trinkets?" Tuck said, before giggling and shaking his head. “Oh, no no no. Zhe proud human misunderstands. Tuck has no trinkets, Tuck's wares are only what zhe proud human sees."

“What are you-" The said stopped as he understood, now identifying the look on the yinglet's face as a leer. “Bold little thing, ain't ya?"

The leer deepened. “Tuck is many zhings, proud, handsome human, but most importantly, Tuck is free."

The sailor eyed up the forward little scav incredulously, hand on his purse. Tuck could pactically hear the man's thoughts, the good food and strong drink he could afford with the coin that could, hypothetically, be freed up. His eyes slowly traced over the yinglet's body, no doubt noting how clean and well-kept the little creature was, how healthy he looked, probably recalling some rumor that yinglets actually carried few if any diseases. A ruddy flush took root in his cheeks as he no doubt recalled lurid descriptions of other humans non-human conquests, cringe-inducing at the time, but now more than a little appealing.

Tuck examined his claws and whispered. “Shout 'hey! Zhat's my purse' and follow me."

“Huh?"

Tuck bounded off into an adjoining alley and the sailor clued in. “Oh. Uh. Hey! Zhat's my purse!"

'Idiot,' Tuck thought as he turned the corner into a nice, secluded little alcove, a well-used tuck-away of his. One of many. 'Hopefully his cock is bigger zhan his brain.'

The sailor made a show of running into the alley, looking around. “Scav? Where you at, lad?"

“Over here," Tuck purred, standing in the alcove with his back against the wall. “Stud."

The sailor grinned and made his way over, already pulling at the drawstring to his trousers. Tuck licked his lips as the human towered over him, his bulging crotch level with his face. Whatever he had in there was straining the fabric. He had to see it, smell it, taste it. He had to. He had to!

“Yes yes yes," Tuck whispered. “Yes yes yes!"

“Horny little shit, ain't ya?" The sailor chuckled. “Ya wannit?"

Tuck huffed as the burly human pulled his trousers down with agonizing slowness, revealing the patch of dark fuzz on his lower belly, the appropriately named 'treasure trail', and the thick copse of dark, shiny pubic hair. Tuck whined as his own cock, red and slick and about the size of the man's thumb, slipped out of his pocket, already dripping precum and lubricant.

“Yes yes yes!" Tuck whimpered. “Tuck wants zhe proud human's big, zhick cock. He wants it so so bad! Yes!"

Even the most reluctant humans came around when Tuck laid it on thick like this, and it was only partially an act. “Well, here you go."

With that he pulled his trousers down, his cock springing out and smacking into Tuck's snout. The yinglet shuddered and trembled, wrapping one hand around the base, unable to even half enclose it, while the other grabbed his own, humble prick. Tuck sighed as he rubbed it against his cheek, laying atop his snout, giggling as the sailor's heavy, musky balls twitched against his chin, the flush, hooded head square between his eyes: a solid seven inches.

“Yes," he muttered, inhaling the man's musk. “Oh yes. Cock cock cock. Big human cock. You ever fucked a scav before?"

“No?"

“A virgin, zhen." Tuck giggled, peeling back the sailor's foreskin, causing him to gasp. “Tuck will help zhe proud human virgin. Help much, yes yes!"

“Okay?"

Tuck looked up at the sailor, wagging his cock about. “Well? You gonna pick me up and fuck me or did you just pull zhis zhing out for air?"

The sailor laughed coarsely and plucked the little yinglet off the ground, pressing him against the wall. He lined his throbbing member up with the scav's little puckered hole before Tuck clicked his tongue. “Silly human! Not zhere!"

“Zhen-(fuck!)-then where?"

He pointed to his twitching little cock. “Right here. It goes into zhe little pocket around my silly little prick. Is like a pussy, but wizh a dick in it, yes?"

The sailor shrugged and lined himself up with the base of Tuck dick, his fat head squashing as he pressed.

“Eee hee hee hee!" Tuck giggled, frotting his dick against the human's. “So so biiig! Look at how small my silly little scav cock is to it! Biiig cock is best, yes? Oh yes yes yes!"

The sailor grunted as he pushed, feeling the yinglet's body begin to give way, his fever-hot body radiating slick heat. He loosed a gasp as his head slipped in with a low, wet sound. Tuck went stiff and loosed a reedy little moan, hands squeezing. Hot, tight flesh gripped the sailor as he pushed deeper, and deeper, feeling the scav flesh part around his thick cock, the scav's little pecker a throbbing, slick ridge crushed against his hardness. Three or so inches in, he hit what felt like the back of Tuck's hole, the flesh no longer parting, now it was gripping, feebly trying to resist.

“S-see?" Tuck panted, trembling in the human's arms. “Tuck's little s-scav body is meant for little scav p-peckers. Your so huge so zhick human cock is not even half-way in and you hit zhe b-back! Yes yes! You're gonna h-have to stretch it out! Yes! Shove in and streeeeetch my scav-hole!"

The sailor obliged. His taut buttocks clenched as his remaining inches plunged into the yinglet with a squelch. Tuck loosed a shrill cry as his own prick was squashed against the sailor's hard, ripping belly, the human's cock buried deep inside his body. The sailor panted and moaned, this scav was hotter and tighter than any woman he'd been with, and the extra texture of the yinglet's prick was an utterly new sensation. Tuck's face was a dazed mask of pleasure as the sailor ran rampant inside him, his inside stretching and rearranging to accommodate the huge organ.

“Yes! Ugh! Oof! Y-yes!" Tuck squealed. “H-harder! Mess me up! Fuck me! Use zhis scav up! Make me too loose for any yingboy to use! Yes!"

“Holy shit, lad," the sailor panted, no long thrusting, now simply bouncing Tuck's entire body up and down on his lap, their bodies meeting with loud, wet claps, the yinglet's love-slime dripping down his swollen balls. Every time he nearly pulled all the way out, and every time he buried himself as deep as he could go. He stirred himself deep within the scream yinglet, shifting his cock within the pocket, the yinglet's prick now poking his dripping balls. Tuck came suddenly and explosively, painting the human's balls white with hot, sticky cum.

“Such good fucking, proud human!" Tuck moaned, eyes shining as he watched those slick inches glide in and out, shifting his hips to rub his cock against the huge, hard shaft. “Fuck Tuck! Yes yes! Fuck Tuck hard!"

The sailor wasn't listening, all he could think about was how hot and tight this scav's pussy was. He'd never pay for slash again! He heaved and groaned as his own climax roared to the fore. The chords of his neck stood proud as he grit his teeth loosing a shuddering moan as he hilted himself for the last time, his cock jumping somewhere deep in the yinglet's guts

Tuck loosed a tremulous sigh as he felt slick, gooey warmth spread inside him. The sailor stumbled backwards, his cock popping free of the scav's hole with a small eruption of white cum and clear juices. “H-holy shit…"

Tuck panted in his arms, his foot-hand reaching out and grabbing the slick organ, feeling it go soft in his hand. “Zhis cock now belongs to yinglets, yes?"

The sailor said nothing, only panting and heaving, still coming down from the hardest orgasm he'd had in years: the lad may be onto something

Tuck snickered and hopped out of the dazed man's arms, dusting himself off. “Well, zhat was fun, but Tuck must be going. If you want more Tuck, or any ozher scav, wear zhis."

He handed the sailor a dried blue reed and turned to leave. “Wear zhis and any yingboy human-chaser will chase."

“That what you are?" The sailor said, finally out of his post-orgasmic daze. “You a human chaser?"

“No," Tuck said, turning around and winking at him. “I'm a human catcher."