FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

All characters depicted in this work of fiction are of legal age of consent. Chapter 1 The sensation of taking a step but being transported billions of lightyears across the galaxy was disorienting to many, especially first time travellers. But crossing the vast distances of space by hyperspace portal had become menial for Burke, especially after a career as an Interstellar Marine. And that was in the logistics division. He was more the guy who ensured the marines were fed and had a steady stream of ammunition for their pulse rifles. Even so, he did his fair share of travelling, and a mixture of base Bohvid genetics and the high physical standards all marines were held to maintained a towering, rippling physique that let him see over the bustling groups of glamorous aliens crossing the Interstellar Pleasure Lounge Atrium. He shook his heavy head, the curved horns atop it slicing through the perfumed air. The place hummed in a way that pleased the senses. Bioluminescent vines, coiled around chrome pillars, pulsed with a lazy, rhythmic thrum that seeped into the floor and up through the soles of his hooves. The scent hit him next, the spiced nectar of inebrium and sweat mixed with the cloying musk of sex. It made his broad nostrils flare it was so good. “Mister Burke?” Her voice was a low, comforting rumble, almost like his own. He looked down. A Bohvid female, her fur a gorgeous patchwork of black and white splotches, stood smiling up at him from the bottom of the steps leading down from the hyperspace portal decks. She was barely dressed in a silver mesh that did nothing but highlight the generous curves it pretended to cover. Four large, plump breasts strained against the fabric, their weight causing a familiar, heavy sag over her sternum. Pink nipples, thick and inviting, pressed through the mesh, the outer circumpherence of the areola visible and forming meaty braille lumps through the dress. “I am Claira,” the woman said, her red lips smiling as she offered the cradled, chilled tankard in her hands. “I’ll be your customer satisfaction agent for the duration of your stay. Here. The first one is on the Lounge.” Burke tooked the trink with thick fingers, then drank the contents down. The bitter, hoppy brew cutting through the last vestiges of transit nausea. “I’ll be needing more than just a stiff drink.” She laughed, a warm, understanding sound. “I can imagine. Not many purchase the full package.” Her eyes drifted down his muscular body, then lingered don the bulge already pushing through his pants. “But for you, and this time of year… I’ve no doubt you’ll make excellent use of our VIP privileges.” She turned, and the view was just as impressive from the back, the tufted black tip of her tail swishing playfully. “VIP pod seven is ready for you. It climbs across the station’s exterior and offers unmatched views of the nebula. Though, I’m sure you’re not here for the ‘view’ per se.” His eyes traced down Claira’s bare back, taking in the subtle venus dimples and the faint crease of ass-cleavage where the cut of the dress rode deliciously low. He grinned to himself. The view so far had been exquisite. He followed, his hooves clicking on the polished obsidian floor. The main chamber opened up before them, a kaleidoscope of species and sensations. Holographic mist swirled between floating, transparent pods where silhouettes moved in languid, entangled dances. The chatter was a symphony of clicks, whistles, and moans. Burke felt the familiar, demanding pressure building in his groin. Months of being pent up on deployment had taken a toll. And now, surrounded by the scent, sights and smells of carnal pleasure, he felt his balls swell and ache with fresh pain. Their pod was a smooth teardrop of smoked glass. It acknowledged Claira’s touch and the door whispered open. She gestured him inside. It was spacious, dominated by a large, padded platform that was more like a bed than a seat. The far wall was entirely transparent, looking out into the star-strewn black. Claira stepped in behind him and with a wave of her hand sealed the door again. The pod detached with a barely perceptible lurch and began a smooth, silent ascent along the station’s gleaming outer hull. The nebula unfolded before them as they passed out the pressure field; beyond the sleek window a vast, swirling canvas of violet and tangerine gas, stabbed through with the fierce blue light of newborn stars. “Very pretty,” Burke grunted, his eyes already scanning the pod’s interior. “There’s more to see,” another voice, sibilant and smooth, came from the dimness near the refreshment nook. She uncoiled herself. Burke recognised her whip-thin and delicate reptilian features immediately. A Snekh. Her scales were a deep, emerald green, catching the nebula’s light like jewels. Four silver eyes, seductively slanted and framed with long, elegant lashes were arranged neatly on her face, each regarding Burke with cool, professional interest. Her slender neck along with long limbs was impressively long, making her almost as tall as the muscular Bhovid. “This is Hissia,” Claira said, moving to the centre of the platform. She began to unhook her mesh garment. “She is among our most experienced oral fulfilment agents. And since your reservation indicated a particular desire for oral relief, we added her to your reservation to ensure all your frustrations are properly unloaded.” The dress pooled at Claira’s hooves with a whisper that tore Burke’s eyes from the sleek Snekh. Her body was a magnificent landscape of soft fur and heavy, swaying flesh. She knelt on the padding, her four breasts hanging full and inviting. Her pink nipples were already taut with anticipation that glimmered on the lips between her firm thighs. Hissia slithered closer with long, elegant strides, her stiletto heels snapping sharply with each step. Up close, Burke could see the fine, intricate pattern of her scales. Her tongue, slender and forked, flicked out to taste the air near his cheek. “The taste of your arousal is strong, Mister Burke. I look forward to having it fill my mouth.” The last of Burke’s restraint snapped. He fumbled with the clasp of his trousers, the tough material giving way. His cock, half-hard from the moment he’d stepped onto the Lounge, sprang free. It was an imposing piece of biology, thickly veined and already leaking a bead of clear pre-cum from its flared, mushroom-shaped tip. Fully erect, it would reach his upper abdomen. Below it, the heavy quad of his testicles swung, full and tight. “Mmmmh,” Claira moaned, her silver eyes widening with genuine appreciation. “It has been a while since I’ve had the company of my own species. Come here. Let’s get properly re-acquainted with Bhovid cock.” Burke stumbled forward, his need a raw, thrumming engine in his blood. Claira’s warm, furred hands wrapped around his shaft. Her fingers couldn’t fully meet. She stroked him, once, twice, a rough, perfect friction that made his hips jerk. “Easy,” she murmured. “We’ve got all the time you paid for.” Hissia was suddenly there, her slender body sliding between Burke and the starfield. Her cool, scaled hands rested on his trembling thighs. “The first release is often the most urgent. May I give you your first orgasm, sir?” All Burke could do was nod, a grunt escaping his lips. Claira guided his cockhead towards her waiting mounds, squeezing them together to form a hot, soft valley of fur and flesh. At the same time, Hissia’s head dipped. Her mouth opened. There was no hesitation, no testing gag. She took him in, deep, her jaws unhinging with a silent, practiced pop. The sensation was unbelievable. The hot, wet, impossibly tight suction of Hissia’s throat, combined with the soft, milking pressure of Claira’s tits. Claira worked her breasts up and down his length, her nipples dragging along his sensitive underside. Hissia swallowed, the muscles of her long throat rippling rhythmically around the head of his cock, which was buried to the hilt in her gullet. “Oh, fuck,” Burke groaned, his hands tangling in Claira’s mane. His hips began to piston, gently at first, then with more force, driving himself deeper into Hissia’s throat. She took it all, her eyes blinking up at him placidly. A faint, wet gurgle was the only sound from her. She breathed through it, her species’ adaptation to swallowing prey often bigger than themselves allowing her to focus solely on the task. The dual stimulation was too much, too perfect after months of nothing but his own fist and hyperactive imagination. The pressure in his quad of balls coiled, tightened, and then exploded. “Gonna come!” he roared, both a warning and a statement of fact. There was no force in the universe that could stop him now. Claira increased her pace, squeezing tighter. Hissia’s throat convulsed, deliberately triggering his climax. He didn’t orgasm in quick, sort pulses like he normally did. This was a flow brought on by the biological imperative to breed a female by any means necessary. A long, thick, continuous stream of hot semen that poured down Hissia’s throat. She swallowed dutifully, continuously, her slender neck working. Some of it escaped, leaking from the corners of her lips where they were stretched obscenely around his girth, dripping onto Claira’s busy hands and fur. The orgasm ripped through Burke, wave after wave, draining the unbearable tension from his spine and guts. His knees buckled. He barely stayed upright, supported by their diligent, working bodies. Finally, it subsided. He was still hard, a testament to his biology and pent-up need, but the blinding urgency was gone. Hissia slid off him with a soft, wet sound, licking her lips clean with a precise tongue. A contented sigh hissed from her. Claira released his cock, now glistening with spit and seed. She smiled, rubbing the mess into her fur. “That was a good warmup, no?” Hissia nodded, coiling herself comfortably at the foot of the platform. “His reservoir is deep. We have only tapped the surface.” Burke sank onto the padded platform, his breath coming in heavy gusts. The nebula blazed outside, indifferent and magnificent. Claira crawled up beside him, her warm, heavy body pressing against his flank. One of her hands drifted down the length of his cock, then cradling his heavy balls a she whispered into his ear. “The Lounge prides itself on the pleasure of all it’s visitors. You’re not leaving this pod until these” – she gently squeezed his quad between her delicate fingers – “have been milked dry.” Chapter 2 Burke’s breath steadied, but the ache remained. It had become a low thrum in his balls and around the roots of his stiff cock. Excited clenches caused the tip to rise and fall, each spasm of the firm muscle squeezing a fresh dab of precum from the tip. Claira’s hand felt good, warm and knowing, but it was a placeholder. His eyes, dark with a hunger that went deeper than mere physical need, found Hissia. She was watching, her four eyes unblinking, a thin strand of his previous release still gleaming on her chin. She understood the look. Without a word, she crawled back across the padding, her slender body arranging itself on her knees before him, head tilted back, mouth open in silent invitation. “Good girl,” Burke grunted, the word more vibration than sound. He stood, his hooves planting wide on the padded floor. Claira’s hand fell away. He grasped Hissia beneath her armpits, his thick fingers almost encircling her narrow torso, and lifted her as if she were weightless. Her scaled tail coiled instinctively around his calf for balance. He didn’t guide himself into her mouth. He positioned the broad, flared head of his cock at her lips and then pulled her down onto him, impaling her throat in one brutal, downward thrust. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second as she was gripped upside down, before settling into blank, practiced acceptance. A wet, choked gagging sound was quickly swallowed. Her throat bulged obscenely, a perfect outline of his crown distorting the sleek line of her neck. He could see it, feel it, the tight ring of her oesophagus stretching to accommodate him. “Fuck me,” Claira cooed, her hands going to her own breasts, squeezing a nipple between her fingers. Burke began to move. He fucked her throat with the same relentless, driving rhythm he’d use on a combat drill. He held her aloft, upside down and helpless in his grip as he used her. Her head bobbed violently with each piston of his hips. The sound was raw, obscene: the wet slap of his balls against her blunt serpent nose, the gulping, gurgling suck of her throat struggling to manage the onslaught, the ragged gusts of air from Burke’s nostrils. He was a machine. Months of discipline, of frustration, of empty silence and hard bunks found their release in this single, brutal act. Hissia took it like she was evolved just for this. Her body jolted with each thrust, but her throat remained open, a willing sheath for him to please himself in. Her hands came up to clutch weakly at his powerful forearms, not to push away, but to hold on. “You like that, slut?” Burke growled, the vulgarity tearing from him. “You like swallowing all that dick?” A groan answered him, vibrating around his cock. It drove him wild. The pressure built again, faster this time, a tsunami behind the dam. His balls tightened, drawing up against the base of his shaft. The nebula’s light outside flared in his peripheral vision, streaks of colour matching the fire in his veins. “I’m gonna paint your fucking insides,” he warned, his voice raw. He slammed her down one final time, hilting himself completely, his pubic fur mashed against her lips and nostrils. He held her there, impaled, and he erupted.. There was no subtlety, no art. It was a geyser, a violent, copious flood of cum that poured directly into her stomach. Her throat worked in frantic, automatic swallows, but the volume was too great, too fast. It backed up. Thick, white streams erupted from her nostrils, burst from the sealed corners of her lips where they stretched around his girth. It oozed out, covering his shaft, her chin, her sleek emerald scales in a slick, pearlescent mess. He kept coming. It seemed to last for minutes, a relentless, flowing release that left him shuddering, his great body trembling with the force of it. Finally, it ebbed. He pulled her off, a final, thick rope splattering across her cheek. Hissia gasped, a long, shuddering inhalation. Cum dripped from her slack mouth. She blinked slowly, a dazed, utterly used look in her eyes. She managed a weak, sated smile before slumping to the side, curling into a spent coil on the padding, meticulously licking the spend from her own lips. Burke stood over her, his cock still jutting out, glistening and starving for more. He was slick with her saliva and his own release. He turned, his chest heaving, to Claira. Her four eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open in an excited smile. Her hands were kneading her own breasts roughly, her pink nipples hard pebbles against her palms. The scent of her arousal, a sweet, musky Bohvid fragrance, cut through everything else and filled Burke’s senses. “My turn,” she breathed, her voice husky. She lay back on the platform, her black-and-white fur a stark contrast against the dark padding. She gathered her four heavy breasts in her hands, pushing them together, creating a deep, soft valley that ran from her collarbone to her sternum. The sight was profoundly erotic, a promise of smothering, silken warmth. “Come on,” she said. “Let me show you what these are for.” Burke needed no second invitation. He crawled over her, his weight causing the pod to shift slightly. He positioned himself above her, the head of his cock nudging into the crease she’d formed. The warmth was incredible. The soft, pliant flesh yielded perfectly, enveloping him in a friction that was entirely different from Hissia’s vicious tightness. Claira sighed, a sound of deep contentment, and began to move. She rocked her torso, sliding her massive tits up and down his length. Her nipples dragged along the sensitive underside of his shaft, sending jolts of pleasure directly to his core. She squeezed tighter, creating a hot, milking tunnel of pure flesh. “That’s it,” she coaxed, watching his face. “Fuck my tits. Cover them. They’re all yours.” Burke groaned, dropping his head forward. He began to thrust, meeting her rhythm. The slide was exquisite, a lewd, wet sound filling the quiet pod. Precum leaked from him in a steady flow now, mixing with the residual sweat and spend, making the whole mess slicker, hotter, more obscene. “You’re a fucking goddess,” he rasped, his hands coming down to knead the breasts she wasn’t using, feeling their incredible weight. “Yes I am,” she agreed, her breath hitching as he picked up speed. “A real Bhovid cock needs a real Bhovid whore to satisfy it. Now give me what I’m working for. Don’t you dare hold back.” He wasn’t holding back. The sensation was building again, a deep, rolling quake this time, drawn out by the luxurious friction. His hips stuttered. His control frayed. “Claira…” “Do it,” she demanded, her voice fierce. “Mark me.” With a roar that echoed in the small space, he came. It wasn’t the violent geyser of before. This was a torrent, a floodgate opened wide. Thick, roping jets of semen erupted, painting the deep valley of her cleavage, splattering across her chin and neck, glazing her tits white. She kept moving, milking every last drop from him, until he finally collapsed beside her, spent and heaving. She lay there, a beautiful, filthy mess, a satisfied smile on her face. She brought a finger to her fur, coated it in his release, and sucked it clean. “Mmm. That’s my service charge settled.” Hissia, recovered, slithered over. She began to clean Claira’s fur with her efficient tongue, lapping up the spend with silent devotion. Burke watched, his energy returning, a different, more possessive hunger stirring as he looked at the two women, now both glistening and used. His cock, impossibly, gave a throb against his thigh as he watched the show. Chapter 3 Claira’s tongue was still working in slow, broad strokes across Burke’s stomach, cleaning the last of his spend from his fur, when he felt the familiar, stubborn ache returning. It was quicker now, a deep-seated throbbing that bypassed exhaustion. His body was engineered for endurance, for rapid recovery, and the sight of the two women – Hissia gleaming with scaled perfection, Claira showing off every curve – was a direct order it couldn’t ignore. His cock, which had softened only to a semi-engorged state, began to swell again against his lower abdomen, a heavy, insistent presence. “Good boy,” Claira murmured, reaching out to trace her fingers lovingly along the length. She sat back on her heels, her four breasts swaying. A wicked smile played on her lips. “You’re a fucking reservoir, aren’t you?” Hissia slid forward, her four silver eyes fixed on the thickening shaft. “The throat is always available,” she hissed, her voice still a little raw. “No,” Burke said, the word a low rumble. His hand came down, not to push her away, but to guide her by the shoulder. He looked at her narrow hips, her flat, scaled belly. “Enough foreplay. My body is in heat. My balls won’t stop filling up until I breed you.” Hissia’s eyes dilated. A flicker of something, possibly trepidation, passed through them. But she understood and nodded once with a sharp, professional motion. “You’ll need help,” Claira said, already moving. She positioned herself behind Burke, her hands on his lower back, her body a warm, soft support against his spine. “She’s tiny. You’ll break her if you’re not careful, then she won’t be able to please you anymore.” Burke grunted and he leaned into her support. Hissia moved to straddle him where he sat propped against the padded wall. She placed her small hands on his broad shoulders for balance. Her tail coiled tightly around his waist, anchoring her. Claira reached between them, her fingers slick with residual saliva and cum, and took Burke’s cock in hand. It was a formidable, terrifying thing at full mast, the flared head like a plum-colored mushroom, the veins thick cords beneath the skin. “Easy, sweetie,” Claira whispered to Hissia. “Deep breath now.” She pressed the tip against Hissia’s opening. It was ludicrous. The scale was all wrong, a planetary probe attempting to enter a docking ring meant for shuttles. Hissia let out a sharp, strained gasp as Claira applied pressure. Her body resisted, a tight, hot ring of muscle that refused to yield. “Fuck,” Burke hissed, the sensation of that impossible tightness almost painful. “She’s like a vice.” “Push,” Claira urged Hissia. Hissia bore down, her abdominal muscles trembling. Her tail constricted around Burke’s waist. There was a sickening, wet pop as the very crown of him breached her. She cried out, a sharp, truncated sound. Her body shuddered violently. She could take no more. The sheer girth of him stopped any further progress dead. Only the broad head and maybe an inch of shaft were inside her; the rest, a massive length of throbbing flesh, stood out obscenely between them. Her flat belly already showed a distinct, rounded bulge where he was lodged. “That’s it,” Hissia panted, her voice strained to a whisper. “That’s all. It’s bottoming out. I can feel it in my chest.” Burke groaned, a mix of frustration and blinding pleasure. The heat was incredible, a constricting, molten glove that squeezed just the very end of him. It wasn’t enough. He needed to be buried, to flood her completely. Hissia, reading the need on his face, moved. She couldn’t ride him. Instead, she began to rock her hips in tiny, desperate circles, grinding that engorged tip against her deepest point. Simultaneously, the end of her strong, prehensile tail unwrapped from his waist. It slithered down, finding the immense length of his exposed cock. She coiled it around him, a slick, scaled fist, and began to pump. The combination was devastating. The intense, unmoving tightness at the head, the rhythmic, stroking pressure along the shaft. Burke’s head slammed back against Claira’s breasts. A guttural, animal sound was torn from his throat. “That’s it, clever girl!” Claira urged, her hands digging into Burke’s shoulders. “Keep going. He likes that.” Hissia worked him with single-minded focus. Her tail moved in a practiced, sinuous rhythm, tightening on the upstroke, a perfect mimicry of a clenched fist. Her hips kept up their frantic, shallow grinding. Her eyes were glazed, her mouth open in a silent scream of overstimulation. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna fill your womb to the brim,” Burke snarled, his hips jerking up uselessly, held firm by Claira’s embrace and Hissia’s impalement. “You gonna hold it all?” “Try me,” Hissia rasped. The orgasm hit him like a hull breach. It was a deep, internal detonation. His quad of balls seized, and the release began—a torrential, non-pulsing flood that fired directly into the confined space of Hissia’s stretched channel. She felt it instantly. A hot, impossible expansion. Her eyes went wide. Her belly, already rounded, began to distend further, pushing outward in a soft, firm swell. A low, continuous moan leaked from her as she was filled beyond capacity. It kept coming. There was no end to it. The pressure mounted inside her, seeking any outlet. With a wet, rippling gasp, her body surrendered. A torrent of white cream geysered out from around the imperfect seal of his cockhead, cascading down his shaft in a thick, rushing waterfall. She overflowed, utterly and completely, her body rejecting the overwhelming volume. “There it is!” Claira cried, delighted. She ducked her head down, pushing Hissia’s tail aside. As the cum poured down Burke’s cock, Claira caught it with her tongue. She lapped at the flowing stream, drank from it, her mouth working eagerly to capture the overflow that Hissia could not contain. It dripped from her chin, matted her chest fur, pooled in the crevices of the padding below. Finally, it stopped. Hissia slumped forward, her forehead against Burke’s chest, her body convulsing with gentle aftershocks. Her belly remained swollen, a visible proof of the deposit forced inside her. Burke’s cock, slick and gleaming, slowly slipped from her with a soft, wet sound, followed by a fresh, slower trickle of spend. Claira sat up, licking her lips clean. She looked from Burke’s still-hard, dripping cock to Hissia’s wrecked, overflowing form, and then to Burke’s face. His eyes were dark, satisfied, but still hungry. The cycle was not yet complete. “You,” she said, placing a sticky hand on his chest, “are a menace.” Her tone was pure admiration. “Ready for more?” Chapter 4 The air in the pod was thick with musk and spend. Hissia lay coiled on the cushioned floor, her emerald belly distended, silver eyes glazed as a slow, creamy trickle seeped from between her scales. Burke stood over them, his massive cock still rigid, a translucent bead of pre-cum welling at the slit and stretching into a glistening string that swayed with his heavy breath. It twitched, a thick, angry red, veins pulsing with a heartbeat all its own. “Fuck, Mister Burke,” Claira breathed, her voice husky. She pushed herself up from where she’d been lapping at the mess. Her black-and-white fur was streaked and crusty with spillages. “You’re still ready to go. We haven’t even put a dent in those balls, have we?” He just grunted, a low rumble in his chest. The need was a furnace in his gut, banked but not extinguished. Months of discipline, of stark loneliness in the void, demanded a more thorough purge. Claira saw it in the tense set of his jaw, the way his hooves dug into the soft flooring. She licked her lips, tasting Hissia and him. “Hissia needs a break. Let’s give you the proper fuck now. A Bohvid pussy to breed. That’s what you’re craving, isn’t it? To pump a womb full of your offspring?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Moving with practiced grace, she reclined against a bank of pulsating cushions, her four heavy breasts settling against her chest, pink nipples pebbled tight. She spread her thick thighs, the fur there damp and dark. “C’mon, big boy. Use me. Give your balls what they desire.” Burke needed no further encouragement. The sight of her, open and willing, erased the last shreds of his control. He knelt between her legs, his weight making the pod’s systems whir in adjustment. Her scent, deep and earthy and inherently familiar, hit him like a physical wave. He guided himself, the flared, blunt head of his cock slick with leftover spend, and pressed it against her entrance. It was a tighter fit than he’d anticipated, but it gave more realistically. Where Hissia had been an impossible stretch, Claira was a hot, velvety embrace. She gasped, a sharp intake, as he began to push. Her hands flew to his forearms, fingers digging into the dense fur and muscle there. “Oh, shit,” she hissed. “Okay. Okay, just… fuck, just go slow at first.” He didn’t. The patience was gone. With a brutal, singular thrust of his hips, he sheathed himself inside her to the root. Claira cried out, a ragged shout that echoed in the chamber, her back arching off the cushions. Her internal muscles fluttered wildly around the monstrous invasion, trying to accommodate the girth that stretched her obscenely. “Take every fucking inch,” Burke growled, the words torn from him. He leaned forward, grabbing her calves, and hooked her legs over his broad shoulders. The angle deepened, became devastating. He could see her stomach bulge slightly with the outline of him. Then he began to move. They weren’t strokes; they were pistons firing. Long, frantic withdrawals until just the swollen tip threatened to pop free, then savage, full-body slams back home. The wet, slapping sound of their joining filled the pod, a relentless rhythm underpinned by Claira’s choked moans and Burke’s animalistic grunts. Her breasts jounced violently with each drive. “Yes! Fuck, breed it! Breed my cunt!” Claira shrieked, her professionalism shattered, lost to raw, desperate need. Her hooves drummed against his back as she undulated with the thrusts. “Fill me up! I wanna feel those fucking balls empty right into my womb!” Her words tipped him over the edge. The pressure that had been building since he first erupted into Hissia coiled tight in his sack and exploded upwards. A guttural roar tore from Burke’s throat as he buried himself as deep as he could, pinning her to the cushions. And like the previous ones, this climax was a torrent. A hot, seemingly endless flood of cum surged from him, directly into her clenching depths. Claira’s eyes rolled back, her mouth open in a silent scream as she was filled. She could feel it, a burning, liquid expansion that had nowhere to go but deeper. Her womb accepted at first, then seemed to choke as she overflowed. Burke kept coming. A long, continuous flow that leaked past the seal of his cock and her stretched flesh, a hot trickle that ran down the fur of her ass and onto the padding beneath. Still, he poured into her. Her belly, already rounded with his shape, grew taut and slightly swollen with the volume. He was fucking her silly on his seed alone, his hips making tiny, jerking motions as the last surges left him. Claira was a boneless, trembling mess beneath him, her voice a broken whimper, utterly filled to the brim. With a final, shuddering sigh, Burke pulled out. The sound was obscenely wet. A gush of white immediately followed, cascading from Claira’s well-used pussy in a thick stream that pooled between her thighs. She didn’t move, just breathed in ragged gulps. Burke, still painfully hard, turned. His cock, glistening with mixed fluids, bobbed before him. Hissia had uncoiled slightly, watching with her strange, impassive eyes. She understood. She opened her mouth, her forked tongue darting out. He didn’t aim for her mouth. He stepped closer, his hooves straddling her slender form. He took his still-weeping cock in one rough hand and gave it two rough pumps. The final, residual spurts shot out, not with force, but in long, lazy arcs. They hosed down Hissia’s scaled chest and belly, adding fresh, pearlescent streaks to the drying mess already there. She hissed, a sound of pleasure, and rubbed her hands through it, smearing it across her emerald skin. Burke finally stilled. The furnace had been extinguished, for now. He looked at the two women, one drowned and dripping, the other overflowing and ruined. A deep, satiated breath filled his lungs. The pod’s bioluminescent light played over the scene, over the proof of his expenditure. Claira let out a weak, breathless laugh from the floor. She reached out, clasping Burke’s cock in a tender grip. It was still defiantly erect, and with a smile she tugged him back between her legs, bringing the afterglow to an end and replacing it with the heat of another passionate embrace. Chapter 5 The pod door sighed open at the end of its track, easily a few hours after the initial departure. The maintenance dock was a good bit quiet, disconnected from the Lounge’s nightclub where the VIP pod would have stopped to let off passengers before coming here. Nyan’s silhouette, slender and artificial, stood poised on her integrated high heels as she scanned the interior. She expected the VIP pod to be empty. The pod was a warzone of spent passion. The air reeked of musk, sweat, and the sharp, metallic tang of alien semen. Bodily fluids glistened on every padded surface, pooling in dips and soaking into the darker fabric. Two forms lay amidst the wreckage. The Bohvid female, Claira, was on her back, her black-and-white fur matted and streaked white, her quadruple breasts rising and falling in exhausted hitches. A slow, steady trickle of fluid seeped from between her thighs, adding to the puddle beneath her. The Snekh employee Nyan’s database connection identified as Hissia was coiled nearby, her emerald scales painted in uneven, drying streaks, her silver eyes half-lidded in satiated stupor. And in the centre of it all, dominating the largest couch like a throne, sat Burke. His chestnut fur was damp with sweat. His powerful arms were draped along the back of the couch, his hooves planted wide on the floor. And between his thick, muscular thighs, his cock stood utterly undiminished, a proud, brutal column of flesh rising from a thatch of dark fur. It was slick and gleaming, a monument to perpetual readiness, the flared tip leaking a single, persistent bead of pre-cum that quivered with the steady pulse of his heartbeat. Nyan’s animated catgirl faceplate projected a blink of large, unperturbed eyes. A synthesized, cheerful voice emanated from her vocal module over the click of her heels as she approached the guest. “Good evening, honoured patron. I am Station Fembot-Nine, designation ‘Nyan.’ I am here to facilitate post-session sanitation and comfort.” She stepped fully inside, the door whispering shut behind her. Her ball-joint servos emitted near-silent whirs as she moved, her sleek metallic form navigating the slippery floor with precise balance. She ignored the groans from Claira and the soft hiss from Hissia for the moment. Her primary protocol directed her to the source of the largest ongoing bio-mess. She stopped before Burke, her head tilting. “Sir. Your primary sexual organ requires decontamination. Please remain at ease.” Burke watched her, his dark eyes heavy-lidded but alert. A slow, rough sound escaped him, not quite a word. He was a pressure cooker waiting to blow again, the sight of this pristine, artificial thing amidst the filth only stoking the embers. Nyan stood gracefully before him, her feet planted apart as her delicate fingers moved to her smooth, metallic pelvic. With a click and a whir, the sleek outer plating broke apart like a high-tech jigsaw puzzle and receded, revealing a tubular opening underneath. She pulled it from her body, the hose attached to the compact sanitation unit in her torso extending with the nozzle that looked more like a pocket-pussy than a cleaning instrument. The opening was quite a simple, puckered little ring of silicone, and the translucent outer casing revealed an internal channel lined with fine bristles and soft suction rings. “Implementing specialized hygienic attachment,” she stated. She lifted the device. Without ceremony, and with clinical accuracy, she fitted the open end over the swollen head of Burke’s cock. A switch was thrown, not on the device, but in Burke’s hindbrain. The sensation was nothing like flesh. It was a cool, relentless pressure, a vacuum seal that locked onto him with a soft pop. Then, it began to work. The device hummed, a low, vibrating purr. The interior rings contracted in rhythmic waves, milking downwards from the tip. Simultaneously, a powerful suction engaged, pulling the fluids from his skin. It was efficient, thorough, and intensely, bizarrely stimulating. “Fuck,” Burke grunted, his hips giving an involuntary jerk. The device held fast. It slid down his length, the bristles scrubbing, the rings massaging, the vacuum sucking away every trace of spit, sweat, and lingering seed. It cleaned the thick vein on the underside with particular vigour. Nyan watched the process closely, her hand guiding the device up and down the generous length of his cock, her faceplate displaying a small, satisfied smile icon. “Residual bodily fluid traces are high,” she commented conversationally, as if discussing engine grease. “Optimal sanitation will require full coverage.” She worked the device down to the roots, where his heavy quad of balls hung, slightly drawn up and still visibly full. Burke gasped, and his balls immediately contracted. His cock swelled, the vein the toy polished so diligently bulging with the travel of fresh semen racing up his shaft. The cleaning device’s sensors registered a sudden, catastrophic pressure increase and a spike in bio-temperature within the channel. Nyan’s faceplate flickered, the cheerful smile icon glitching into a flashing yellow exclamation point. “Sir, you are initiating an ejaculatory event,” she stated, her voice still friendly but now edged with a tone bordering on panic. “This orifice is a Class-C sanitation attachment. It is not designed to take the full brunt of an organic emission. Cease immediately.” Burke didn’t cease. How could he, the feelings of the sucking, convulsing rings and tender bristles felt so good across his cock. His head tilted back against the couch add a raw, guttural roar tore from his throat as the dam broke. A geyser erupted from his tip a moment later. A thick, hot rope of cum blasted directly into the heart of the device with the force of a firehose. The transparent tubing lit up white as the semen was forced up the length of the hose. The device seized around his shaft, its rhythmic cleaning motions jamming into a single, convulsive clench. A wet, straining groan emitted from Nyan’s torso as the overflow safeguards failed. Burke kept coming, a relentless, pouring flood filling the narrow hose, the pressure bulging it out in a long, thick line all the way back to her pelvic housing. “System breach,” Nyan announced, her voice now flat and metallic. Her body gave a sharp jerk. The cum flooded past the internal separator meant for waste, bypassing filters and bursting containment bladders. It filled cavities not meant for fluid, seeking any escape. It first spurted in a hot, messy gout from the ball joint at her left hip, painting a white streak down her sleek thigh. Then, a seam at her right elbow hissed and sprayed, droplets flecking the couch. Her spinal column whined as pressure built, and a thin, persistent leak began to seep from the articulation points along her lower back, trickling down the elegant, perky curvature of her breastplate. Burke’s hips rolled, thrusting himself further up into the locked device, each pumping spasm injecting more of his seemingly endless load into her. He was hosing her interior down, his balls clenching and unclenching against the base of his shaft, visibly deflating as they worked. Inside Nyan, servos ground against fluid they were never rated for. Her faceplate showed a spinning load icon, then defaulted to a neutral, unblinking expression. A final, powerful surge from Burke forced a jet of semen to fountain straight up out of the disconnected joint at her shoulder, splattering wetly against her own chin and neck. With a final, choked whir, the suction died. The device, now bloated and heavy with seed, detached from her body with a sick, wet pop and hung uselessly from Burke’s still-twitching cock like a burst, broken condom. A veritable waterfall cascaded from between her legs as Nyan looked down at the leaks sprouting from her various orifices joints, then at the marine whose libido showed no sign of stopping. His cock was still hard, and as she scanned him, she noted the slow re-inflation of his quad as he sat there, panting and recovering for another bout. She emitted a soft, staticky tut. “Customer satisfaction protocol indicates residual sexual tension remains critically high. This unit’s capacity is exceeded.” She tilted her head, a faint transmission light blinking on one cat-ear antenna. “All available sanitation and satisfaction units, please report to VIP Pod Theta-Seven. We have our work cut out for us.” ### This story was commissioned by Basque. Be sure to follow me on /ɛks/ (https://x.com/MChapel117) to stay up to date on when I’m open for future commissions or when I publish new stories. My Business Card: https://mattchapel.carrd.co/ Stay sexy, peeps. Matt Chapel.