FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Did you guys hear that another skinwalker was sighted?" A yellow labrador beastborn states while his tail wags in excitement. His wide eyes scan the room, hoping for an equally eager response.

"Will you just stop!" a burly Doberman shouts, downing his beer with force. "There's no such thing as a skinwalker! I swear, last time it was hööman and now it's this 'skinwalker.' For the last time, it's probably just a beast with mange or something. Mange is a real problem right now."

"Oh yeah? A beast with no claws and flat face too?" The labrador counters, leaning closer, his voice thick with curiosity and challenge.

"Pugsly has a flat face. What of it?" The Doberman retorts, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Not that type of flat face. Like no muzzle at all!" The labrador clarifies, frustration edging into his tone.

A lion sits next to the two canines talking, silently observing before interjecting. "You're going to feel like shit when you find out it's a beast who's disfigured," his voice is calm but carries a weight of reason.

The labrador huffs, crossing his arms. "It's not a beast."

"How would you know?" The Doberman shoots back, his eyes narrowing. "You're just hearing stories. Come back after meeting it and then maybe I'll start to believe you."

"Fine!" The labrador exclaims, downing the rest of his drink. "I'm going into the forest right now. I'll find the skinwalker and bring proof it exists!"

As he tries to get up, the lion grabs his arm gently but firmly. "Don't. It's not safe in the woods at night, and I'm not talking about any skinwalkers. There are ferals out there, and the last thing you want is for one of them to catch you. I'd be fine in a fight, but you'd get eaten alive."

The labrador tears his arm away, determination burning in his eyes. "I'm plenty strong, plus my nose can guide me around ferals. I'll be fine."

"Let him go." The Doberman waves them off dismissively. "He'll chicken out once he's at the forest's edge."

With another huff, the labrador walks out of the bar and makes a beeline to the forest. He'll find this skinwalker, of that he has no doubt.

---

Now that he stood before the forest's edge, the canine could feel his resolve waver. In the glow of the moonlight, the treeline loomed over him like an impenetrable wall of darkness. He swallowed hard, his tail barely twitching, trying to retreat between his legs.

"W-What am I waiting for?" He nervously laughed to himself. "How hard can it be to find one stupid skinwalker?" Instinctively, he took a step back. "It's not like they're dangerous, right? Or that I'd just end up wasting my time, wandering the woods at night and finding nothing? Maybe Dobie was right, this is a bad idea."

He glanced back towards the well-lit safety of the bar.

He shook his head. "No, they'll never let me live it down if I came crawling back so soon," he insisted to himself, taking a breath to steady his nerves. "I'm not a scared pup. But then again—"

Before he could convince himself otherwise, a strange scent caught his nose. Something about it was unlike anything he'd ever smelled before. A mixture of damp earth, decayed foliage, but underneath all of that, something faintly sweet settled in. His nose was already guiding him into the forest before he could even register it.

Despite the moon hanging high in the sky, the canopy above was dense, the trees' thick intertwining branches blotting out the light. Even with his superior canine night vision, he could only see a few feet ahead. The way the shadows moved made it feel as though the forest itself was alive, watching his every step.

"Okay, just keep following the scent," he whispered to himself, the sound swallowed by the suffocating silence. "It's just a scent… probably nothing dangerous."

Something was happening. Each step he took deeper into the forest, the stronger the scent grew, but that wasn't what concerned him. Something about this scent was intoxicating. He could feel his fear almost fade away, like he was being charmed to follow this scent to the ends of the earth. He was so entranced by it that he didn't see the root that caught his paw as he came crashing to the floor with a thud.

"D-Damn it," he muttered, rubbing his chin to relieve the ache.

He now realized that he was before a small creek. The soft sound of the water flowing made the darkness almost seem serene. Picking himself back up, he walked over to the water's edge and took in a deep breath - but the scent was gone.

"Where did it go?" he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with annoyance.

He turned in small circles, nose to the ground, but the elusive scent had vanished completely. Standing back up, he let out a long sigh.

"This is stupid," he said to himself, knowing this was just a waste of time.

He was never going to find the skinwalker. There was no guarantee that this scent was even tied to the skinwalker anyway. He didn't want to spend all night out in the woods chasing shadows. So, in defeat, he turned back toward where he came from and prepared to head back. But his heart stopped at the sight before him.

Ferals. An entire pack surrounded him. How was this possible? The scent of ferals was so strong that it could be smelled from a mile away…but something was wrong. These ferals before him, their scent was off. It was almost camouflaged, as if they'd been bathed in something to mask their natural odor. Analyzing could wait; the fact was, this was likely where he'd die. With these ferals surrounding him, running away wasn't an option.

However, the ferals didn't attack; they merely stood there, watching him, like silent guards. A whistle sliced through the night, causing the wolves to look towards the sound. The labrador turned as well, his eyes following the sound to a tall rock. There stood a creature covered in all types of different plants. The darkness hid its features, but there was one thing that cut through clearly. The sweetness, the scent he'd been following, was overwhelming now.

Frozen in place, the dog's mind raced with questions and fear as the figure surveyed the scene. The feral wolves remained still, waiting, and the forest seemed to hold its breath.

"Sit," the figure called.

All the ferals around sat on command. This shocked the labrador… When did ferals follow commands? Also, who was this creature? Was it a beast or something else entirely? At the very least, the scent wasn't anything he knew.

"W-What are you?" the beastborn asked.

The creature didn't answer, only letting out another sharp whistle, which caused the ferals to run over to it as it turned away and walked off deeper into the forest. Now left alone, the labrador once more felt his legs carrying him, drawn in by this intoxicating scent. His fear faded, becoming a distant memory, replaced by an unsettling familiarity. Like whenever he visits his parents, something soothing at a primal level.

He kept his distance, following as he watched the ferals and the creature continue ahead. The ferals would glance back every so often but return their attention to the creature. It felt like they'd been walking for several hours, but time started to blur the longer the canine followed. Eventually, they reached a cave.

A cave? The lab awakened from his trance-like state. Wait, for there to be a cave, he must have walked many miles to reach a mountain. Since he was already there, he couldn't leave without knowing for certain. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he entered the cave. Inside, he found all the ferals lying down, keeping a watchful eye on him.

The canine then turned his gaze to the creature, who had its back to him. It shifted unnaturally under the foliage it wore, but moments later the foliage was set aside. Now, he could see the creature's bare back, and it was exactly as the legends described. Smooth skin with no trace of fur. When the figure turned around, he was face-to-face with it – the skinwalker.

Despite the flat face, it didn't look as strange as he'd imagined. But the eyes held a strong predatory gaze, almost as intense as the ferals surrounding him.

"What do you want?" the skinwalker spoke.

"A-Are you the skinwalker?" the labrador asked.

The creature took a seat on a flat rock as one of the ferals crawled over, and he began petting it on the head.

"I suppose that wouldn't be inaccurate to say," it laughed under its breath. "Never thought I'd become the legend, but little made sense when I came here."

"Came here?" the beastborn tilted his head.

"Not important," the creature looked at him. "So, are you here to take me in?"

"Uhhh," the labrador glanced around at all the ferals. He got the sense that doing anything like that would get him killed. "No. I just wanted to see if you were real. Also…" He cleared his throat. "Why do you smell so good?"

"Smell good?" The skinwalker was now the one confused. "Explain."

The dog began to blush. Why was his heart starting to beat faster and his body feeling warmer? He wasn't afraid anymore, but something about this creature was stirring something inside him.

"Well…I could smell you from the forest's edge. It's difficult to put into words, but your scent is calming and very…attractive."

The skinwalker looked to the ferals. "Mmm…Perhaps that explains a few things. But overall, it doesn't matter. If all you wanted was to meet me, then you've done so. Leave."

With the swelling of his knot in his sheath, the labrador truly realized what sensation was taking over. An almost uncontrollable urge to be bred by this skinwalker swelled within him, an urge so foreign it nearly overwhelmed his thoughts. It was inconceivable! He's always been into females! The very notion felt twisted, wrong, yet the intoxicating effect of the skinwalker's scent clouded his mind, blurring the lines between desire and compulsion.

He looked at the skinwalker, feeling a primal draw he couldn't quite understand. The canine's body felt hot, almost feverish, as if every inch of him was responding to an ancient, unspoken call. His ears twitched nervously, heart pounding in his chest like a drum. Each heartbeat echoed with an insistent question: why does this seem so right?

"I-I want proof for my friends," the beastborn smiled nervously, each word a battle against his instincts.

"Proof? I don't have anything to give you," the skinwalker stated.

Determined but trembling, the labrador moved closer. He dropped to his knees before the skinwalker, his own humiliation mixing with the strange allure of the creature. Every motion felt surreal, driven by a force beyond mere rationality.

"I can think of something, if you're interested," he noted, voice dropping into a throaty murmur, as he ran his hand up the skinwalker's thigh. The touch was electric, sending shivers down his spine.

The skinwalker looked bewildered for a moment, its eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and reluctant acceptance. Letting out a long sigh, it seemed to understand more than it was letting on.

"Yup, that definitely explains it," it muttered, brushing the feral beside him away. "Fine. But I better not see you or any of your friends coming out here again," it added with a touch of stern finality.

The canine didn't need more encouragement. His gaze dropped to the skinwalker's exposed anatomy—a member unlike his own kind as he grasped it. It stood erect, free from any sheath, with skin that was unbroken and smooth, firm to the touch yet yielding slightly beneath his fingers. Veins pulsed visibly beneath the taut skin, signaling life and warmth.

Feeling its heat and the rhythmic throb of each heartbeat. His own knot swelled in response, an aching need stirring within him. He began to stroke it, at first timidly, but fascinated by how the smooth skin rolled over the tip and down, exposing the head before reaching its limit, then stroking back up to cover the head again. His confidence grew as the creature responded with deep, guttural groans.

The sound reverberated through the cavern, mixing with the distant echoes of dripping water.

Leaning forward, the labrador tentatively licked the tip, tasting the musky, salty essence. The flavor was intoxicating, driving him to wrap his lips fully around the length. He began to suckle, his tongue swirling around the glans, exploring every contour. The skinwalker's hands gripped the back of his head, gently guiding his movements with increasing urgency.

The rhythm quickly intensified, the canine's thoughts becoming a blur of overwhelming pleasure. His muzzle was filled with the skinwalker's virile flesh, each thrust deeper and more insistent than the last. When the skinwalker finally climaxed, it did so with an intense groan, releasing deep within the dog's throat. He swallowed every drop, their eyes locking in a shared moment of primal connection. Only when the skinwalker released him did he pull away, licking his lips in satisfaction.

The skinwalker seemed to ponder the moment before speaking again.

"You're quite the eager one," it mused, a hint of amusement in its tone. "But we're not done yet. Turn around," it commanded next, its voice an irresistible force.

The labrador's body obeyed instinctively, as if under a spell. He turned to face away from the skinwalker and raised his tail without hesitation, anticipation mingling with an undercurrent of fear for the unknown. The skinwalker aligned itself and pushed inside with a slow, deliberate thrust, filling the canine completely. The sensation was overwhelmingly intense—a pleasure that felt almost otherworldly.

As the skinwalker began its rhythmic movements, the labrador felt every inch of himself stretch and accommodate, his nerves alight with pleasure. The creature's hands roamed over his body, one tracing the curve of his back while the other found its way to his furred sheath. Each touch, each caress, sent waves of ecstasy rippling through him.

The skinwalker's breath was warm against the beastborn's fur-covered ear. “You're mine tonight," it whispered, the voice low and dripping with possessive intensity.

The labrador gasped, his body responding involuntarily, hips bucking against the creature's powerful thrusts. The rhythm steadily intensified, driving him to the brink. The feeling of fullness and sharp pleasure from within consumed him entirely, each movement pushing him closer to the edge.

The canine felt the skinwalker shift slightly, changing its angle and accessing new depths within him. The change sent jolts of startling pleasure through his core. His paws scrabbled against the stone floor of the cave, seeking purchase as his body quaked with every thrust. He could feel his own climax building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within him.

The skinwalker's movements grew more insistent, sensing the canine was close to release.

“Let go," it urged, a tantalizing murmur.

With a final, powerful thrust, the skinwalker buried itself deep within the canine, filling him with a warmth that spread like wildfire through his veins. But he wasn't done as he gripped the lab's sheath and pulled it back, his knot popping out as he squeezed the base with a tug. The intensity surged to an overwhelming peak—his arms gave out beneath him, and he collapsed forward onto the cool, damp floor of the cave, his own release painting the ground as his body shuddered in powerful waves.

The lab lay panting and trembling, his mind awash with the afterglow and the remnants of intense pleasure. The skinwalker pressed close, its presence an oddly comforting weight against his back and a tender gesture that sent another shiver through his already overwrought senses.

The skinwalker whispered soothingly, stroking the beastborn's fur. “Good boy. Get some sleep. You have nothing to fear tonight."

For the first time, the labrador felt a profound sense of safety. As exhaustion overtook him, he closed his eyes, and drifted into a deep, untroubled sleep, surrounded by the warmth of his mysterious encounter.

---

When he awoke, the cave was bathed in the soft glow of dawn light filtering through cracks in the rock. The forest outside was waking up, birds chirping and leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. His body ached, but it was a reminder of the intense experience he had undergone. He sat up, looking around the cave and noticed it was empty. Not ferals, no skinwalker and no scent.

Confused, he slowly got to his feet, making his way out of the cave. Nothing. It was just him and the forest now. So, he did the only thing left to do, he walked. Each step felt like he was emerging from another world, a place where reality and legend had mingled, if only for that night. As he reached the forest's edge, he never once caught a whiff of that intoxicating scent again, only replaced by the familiar aromas of the woodland.

He paused, glancing back one last time before heading towards the bar. His friends would not believe him without proof, but something told him that wasn't necessary anymore. He didn't need their validation to know what he had felt, seen, and experienced. As he entered the town, the usual chatter and bustle seemed far removed from the mystical encounter he'd had. Walking into the bar, he was met with curious glances.

Dobie and the lion approached him, eyes filled with questions.

“Well, did you find your skinwalker?" Dobie asked, skepticism woven through his words.

The lab simply nodded. Without another word, he made his way to a quiet corner, the events of the night vivid in his mind. He knew that some experiences were meant to be felt deeply, not proven. And as he settled into his seat, he felt a profound sense of understanding and connection to the mysterious being he had encountered in the shadowy depths of the forest.

But as he was lost in his memories of last night, his two friends looked at one another with confused expressions.

"Is it just me, or does Labster smell really good?" The lion asked.